ShameLess (5 page)

However, in lieu of all of this, I couldn’t be happier. For once, since that tragic night of losing Elle, I feel hopeful.

Hope is something I haven’t had in a long time. Hope will never bring Elle back. It will never turn back the hands of time, but I can tell you one thing, as long as I am breathing, I am grateful to have just lived through the roughest, most turbulent, emotionally draining, and traumatic last two years. I am nowhere near being ‘okay’, to say the least. My heart is finally starting the healing process. I am glad to have this ‘do-over’, a second chance, if you will. Elle will never get to say this. Not at all. This inspires me to make the most of it, and the strength to keep moving forward – a second chance for me, and for Elle.

My life has been hell. I deserve this. I know Elle would agree. Possibly, I can somehow learn to forgive, overcome, and fight to become filled with less shame and self-blame. I owe it to Elle’s memory and to myself to at least try. There are times in your life when you have to accept your past to welcome your future. I believe this is that time for me.

I seriously do not want to get out of bed this morning, let alone get dressed or face my first day of college at a new school. Every day is a new beginning. This is that day for me. My insides are turning, churning like butter, yet gelling just the same. I will admit I am scared. I am nervous and a bit excited, too. NO ONE will know me. This gives me a tiny sliver of hope. Hope. There is that word again. I smile.

Today marks the day that I not only get a fresh start, but the day I technically get to move into my new dorm. I also get to meet my new roommate and officially start this new chapter. At times, I feel like the extent of my pain is subjective to the part of my soul that was once stronger. It fights for dominance, yet feels strangled by the ghosts of my past. It’s screaming, “
Don’t do it! Don’t get out of bed and do NOT take this first step!”

“S’renaty!”

“S’RENATY!” The sound of my mother’s voice repeatedly shouting my name jolts me out of bed, regardless of whether my feet actually want to hit the floor.

Before I have a chance to respond, she is standing in my doorway, “Ren, what are you doing? Hurry up, or you’re going to be late. We still have over an hour drive ahead of us because there’s an accident reported on the freeway. I’m going downstairs to put a few more things in the Jeep, refill my coffee cup, feed and water Mags, and let her out to go pee. I need you up and ready to walk out the front door in less than half an hour.” She smiles, winks and snaps her fingers, never skipping a beat as she signals a ‘hop to it’ expression before darting down the stairs.

I stand here shaking my head wanting to climb back into bed and curl beneath the covers. I want to sink deep into the hopelessness centering my mattress, threatening my present, and trying to rob me of my future. More accurately stated, just sink further into depression, not allowing myself to believe there is no such thing as ‘hope’.

Instead, I fight against it. It is something I’m trying to get a little better at. I mosey into my own bathroom; slip out of my robe and into a hot, steamy shower. Standing amid the vapors only seems to clear my sinuses but not my mind of its webbed and mangled masses of invading thoughts.

Once done, I pull the shower curtain back and grab my towel from the rack. Promptly, I dry off. I have my right leg propped up on the closed toilet seat to start applying my favorite lotion. It dawns on me – I am preparing myself for what, exactly? For who? To be more precise, I guess it is not who, but that it is not Tucker Reeves anymore! He always loved when I smelled of amber. An immediate surge of missing him takes over; I shiver. I refuse to let myself to wallow in missing him – at all!

Like I am so accustomed to doing lately, I quickly dismiss it, shoving the thought away and turning my iPod on. Distracting my mind with the sound of the music, I continue applying the rest of my lotion. Ironically, as though
someone
knew I needed a kick to the gut, a profound chorus surrounds me,

“It's my life

It's now or never

I ain't gonna live forever

I just wanna live while I'm alive”

Here’s your sign, S’renaty! Here’s your sign!
I think to myself as a slight snicker escapes my lips, pure acknowledgment that I so totally ‘get it’. Within no time, I’m falling into step with the rhythm as I begin belting out the lyrics. I take a few minutes studying myself in the mirror, and run my brush through my chocolate tresses. I stop only long enough to use my brush as a microphone during the repeat of the chorus. While staring at my reflection, I honestly watch myself for the first time in what seems like forever, but has really been more like 2 years. Simply, I beam back at this girl mirroring me.
It’s now or never!
I give her a brief air-kiss before turning away from her to face my day.

“Are you almost ready, Ren?” My mom calls from down the hallway. “Your father and I have a charity gala tonight that we can’t be late for. I need to be back in time to get ready.”

Mom and dad always expect me to attend these events with them, but I never subject myself to the snotty, arrogant girls with whom I used to call ‘friends’. At least this time, I have an excuse. I feel ashamed that following the accident, my parent’s social status suffered because of the persecuting done to me. They started receiving fewer invitations, and eventually were nearly shunned. Mom has actually worked hard to maintain a level of acceptance. It matters to her, not me. If that is her
thing
, that is fine, it’s not mine. I am happy I don’t have to attend the gala event this time.

“I’m almost ready, mom, pipe down.” I quickly snap back, knowing she is minutes away from reminding me how late we truly are running.

She has a tendency to be a bit melodramatic at times, especially since she volunteers with so many charities and involves herself in so many things. She gets overwhelmed causing her mind to become hazy, which annoys the crap out of me.

To avoid giving her a reason to irritate me, I quickly throw on a soft pink t-shirt with faded ripped jean shorts and thread a brown belt through its loops. I put on brown leather flip-flops before grabbing my purse and silver hoop earrings from my dresser. Then, I advance toward the door, pausing, and taking one last look at my room.

My new beginning starts now.One step at a time, Ren. You can do this!

I pull the door shut behind me, with a little more hope in my steps.

My mom asks, “Do you have your class schedule all planned out?” along with the other thirty questions within the first ten minutes of our hour-long car ride.

“Yes mom, I showed it to you yesterday but you were busy looking at invitation samples for next month’s garden tea party.” I answer her with more attitude than is needed.

She opens her mouth again, and I pray she asks if I want to turn on the radio. No such luck. “Don’t sass me, S’renaty. And, mind your manners. Your father didn’t invest all of that money into your attending the Etiquette Institute for you to start talking so crass, as though you have had no formal training. I understand you are going through some things, but you do know how to speak properly. Now, do you think you will go to lots of frat parties or join a sorority? You really should, you know. It’ll be good for you, S’renaty, and will look great on your resume’ when you graduate.”

Good for me? Look great on my resume’?
I roll my eyes and give her the best answer I can offer, “Mom, I just want to start fresh at school. I don’t want to get overwhelmed with all of the social stuff right away. I don’t know what I’m comfortable with, yet, or what is ‘good’ for me. I’m sorry, but can we please not talk about this.”

She ignores me, and continues like this for the remainder of the car ride, disregarding my plaintive requests for her to ‘stop’. I start answering monosyllabically, but she still doesn’t take the hint.

Listen, I absolutely love my Mom to death! Truly. She wants what is best for me, even if I happen to disagree exactly what that might be. Just like attending the Etiquette Institute, or being a Debutante. Really? All of this is for her; not me. Anyway, I just have never been so relieved to kiss her ‘good-bye’ and watch her drive away.
Sigh!
I am thankful I am not still stuck, seated beside her, in that closed up Audi SUV listening to her ramble on and on about how this is such a monumental opportunity for me, a new beginning, yada-yada-yada. “Take baby steps, Ren. One at a time, honey,” she kept saying.
Seriously?!

I mean, come on!

I understand that she loves me and means well; especially, given the fact she has been the one by my side through all of this, so she fully understands. Hell, she has been through it, too, in every sense possible, right alongside me. I get it. I do! Regardless of the current feeling I have that I feel I am suffocating, I totally understand, appreciate, and genuinely love her for it. I realize her intentions are genuine, but at some point, I just needed to get out of that SUV to b-r-e-a-t-h-e!

It has been quite a while now since she has been gone, leaving me with the task of unpacking. It gives me something to do and preoccupies my mind. She did offer to stick around and help. Undeniably, I jumped at reminding her, in the midst of all of her motherly affections, this is something I need to do alone. Besides, didn’t she have some big charity to-do to get ready for?

I still haven’t met my roommate, which I am hoping will be later rather than sooner. The peace and quiet is agreeable and I’m enjoying becoming acquainted with my new surroundings. The silence is becoming a little deafening, so I opt for some music.

I drop my iPod into its docking station, place it on shuffle, and get back to settling in while listening to Carolina Liar remind me of how misplaced I feel. “
Save me from being lost. Show me what I’m looking for.” 
Oh Lord, show me. Scared out of my wits, I take a deep breath trying to ponder the whirlwind of emotions ravening my mind as I try to make sense of being here, starting over, and everything it will entail. Time slips by, unbeknownst to me. As I am in the process of finishing unpacking the hellish last box, the door swings open. A very bubbly, energetic bunny stands before me, greeting me.