Ugly(65)

“That’s not true. Trent loves me.”

“Trent’s not the one I’m talking about. I’m talking about what’s up here.” She leans over and taps her finger to my temple. “You’re battling yourself. You’ve got no sense of self-worth whatsoever. You’re literally just a shadow of the girl I once knew.”

Shayne’s trying to tell me something I already know. I’ve led a life where I was shown and told consistently how worthless and useless I am. It wasn’t gradually introduced to me once I was married to a beast masquerading as a man. No, my worthlessness was ingrained into me before I reached the age of ten. While my mind was still forming and growing, I was shown and told many times how stupid I am, how ugly I am, how useless I am, how no one will ever love me.

I’ve got someone in my life who sometimes tells me he loves me, and I’m sure he’s the absolute best I can do. I’m not worth anything. I never have been. If I died tomorrow, there’d be no one to mourn for me, or to lay on my grave because they’re going to miss me. Miss my smile, miss me just being near them. No one will ever grieve me, because I’m worthless.

“I’m trying,” I say in a small voice.

“What exactly are you trying? Do you even read The Crucible anymore?” She remembered. I can’t believe Shayne remembered. I look up at her and I can feel I have tears pooling in my eyes. “You thought I forgot, didn’t you? I haven’t. I remember the day you got it from the bookstore, the glazed look in your eyes as if you’d been told you’d won millions of dollars. You breezed through work for a week, on the happiest of highs because you had something important to you.”

The tears can’t be contained any longer, now they’re falling and I’m desperately trying to wipe them away so I don’t look like such a crybaby.

“I’m sorry; don’t be mad with me,” I get out through heaving sobs.

“I’m not mad with you.” Shayne stands and comes to sit beside me. “I love you, Lily. I hate how we haven’t been able to stay in touch. All I want is what’s best for my friend. You see, she’s been through so much shit in her life, she should be able to live a happy adulthood. That’s all I want for her…for you.” She hugs me, and draws me into her warm, loving frame. “I’ve wanted to get in contact with you every single day, but I lost the paper you gave me with your address. Liam kept telling me to look you up on social media, or to call you. And when I did try calling you, your number was no longer connected. Liam even went past Trent’s parents’ place, and his dad swore at him and told him if he ever came back, he’d shoot him. So I tried, and I saw someone near the window, but they wouldn’t answer the door.”

“You went there looking for me?” Someone cares about me?

“Yes, and then I found the address you had given me. I sent you a couple of letters, but I never got anything in return, so I thought you’d moved.” I never got any mail, only that one postcard from Italy.

“We haven’t, we’re still in the same apartment. Trent says we can’t afford to move.”

Shayne sighs and slightly slumps, and she pulls me in for another tight hug. “Why don’t we just put this behind us, and be happy that we’ve found each other again?” She moves to the opposite side of the booth again and smiles at me.

The waitress brings over two huge plates and carefully puts them down in front of us. “Can I get you two ladies anything else?” she asks.

“No, thank you,” I answer her then turn to look at one of the biggest meals I’ve ever seen in my life. “There’s no way I can eat all this and not be sick.”

Shayne’s already started in on her burger, shoveling in fries between mouthfuls. She’s got mustard all over her mouth and she looks like a kid. I chuckle at her and her sauce-smeared face. “What?” she says with cheeks puffy with burger and fries. “I wuve ood.” I burst into laughter, because I seriously have no idea what she’s attempting to say. She chews and then swallows, picks up her napkin and wipes her face. “What? There’s nothing wrong with me. I love my food.” She’s so savage I can’t help but burst into laughter.

I’m so glad the mood has shifted and isn’t as somber.

We sit, eat, and talk. Before I know it, I need to get back to work. “I have to go,” I say. But my voice is sad and sudden gloom overtakes me, a feeling of dread because I don’t ever want to lose contact with Shayne again.

“Here, take my number,” she says, as she roots around in her bag for a pen. “Aha,” she proudly announces and pulls a pen out. She writes her number on the back on a napkin and gives it to me. “Now, yours.” She looks at me eagerly and waits.