holding up his hands. “I just wondered. I mean, plastic surgeons can do a lot these days, can’t they? Even if they couldn’t fix your face completely they could probably make the birthmark less noticeable, no?”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak. I was too preoccupied trying to decide whether Eric was trying to be a jerk. After a moment’s contemplation, I decided he wasn’t. I answered accordingly.
“Plastic surgery costs thousands of dollars – and that’s if everything goes smoothly. Insurance won’t help because it’s cosmetic procedure. I didn’t exactly grow up rich,” I informed him, knowing his parents were wealthy. “My mom did her best but she was a single mother working 70 hours a week just to make ends meet. There’s no way she could have afforded to pay for my plastic surgery out of pocket.”
“Oh. That’s too bad. You’re actually a pretty cool chick. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you sooner.”
“Why didn’t you?” I asked. I couldn’t help myself. It was something I’d wondered for years.
Maybe if Eric and his friends had actually taken the time to get to know me, they wouldn’t have been so cruel. Maybe they would have realized there was a person beneath the birthmark – one with feelings.
Or maybe they wouldn’t have. I can speculate all I want but it’s hard to say with any certainty whether things would have been any different. Maybe assholes are just destined to be assholes, end of story.
“My sister had asthma.”
“What?”
“My little sister,” Eric explained. “She had asthma really bad when she was a kid. She pretty much outgrew it when she got older but as a kid it was severe. She was in the hospital a lot, constantly having attacks. It sucked.”
“That’s too bad,” I said, “but I’m not following?”
“She got all my parents’ time and attention,” he told me. “I get it now, really I do. But back then it was hard not to be jealous, you know? I couldn’t take my frustration out on her because my parents would have flipped out. So I guess I kind of took it out on you.”
“Why me though?”
“You were there. You stood out. You were an easy target.” He looked uncomfortable. “Look Michelle, I’m sorry. I know you’re probably hoping for some deep explanation that will suddenly make it all make sense. But I’m not sure I can give you that. I don’t know that there was much rhyme or reason to what we did. We were just dumb kids, you know?”
“And dumb teenagers.”
“ Especially dumb teenagers,” he agreed.
Oddly enough, Eric’s completely unsatisfactory explanation did offer me a little closure. At least he wasn’t lying or trying to tell me what he thought I wanted to hear. He was attempting to give me honest answers, even if that meant he had to own up to having been a pretty terrible person with extraordinarily bad judgment. I appreciated the effort.
Silence fell over our table once again and little by little, I felt some of the deep seated resentment I’d been holding onto fade away. I won’t say I forgave him, but at least I stopped considering whether I’d made a mistake by not taking him up on his offer to punch him.
By the time Eric and I finished our cheesecake, it was getting late.
“My car’s parked outside if you want a ride home,” Eric offered.
“That would be good,” I agreed, grateful that I wouldn’t have to wait for the bus or attempt to hail a cab. It was cold and dark outside and cabs could be notoriously hard to catch late in the evening. “I live over on Ninth Street, near Baylor Park.”
“Okay, I think I know where that is.”
Eric’s car was an expensive looking little hatchback. It was pretty much what I expected. When I once again made no effort to have a conversation with him, Eric leaned over and turned on his music. A familiar tune pierced the silence.
“Hey,” I said,
For a moment, I couldn’t speak. I was too preoccupied trying to decide whether Eric was trying to be a jerk. After a moment’s contemplation, I decided he wasn’t. I answered accordingly.
“Plastic surgery costs thousands of dollars – and that’s if everything goes smoothly. Insurance won’t help because it’s cosmetic procedure. I didn’t exactly grow up rich,” I informed him, knowing his parents were wealthy. “My mom did her best but she was a single mother working 70 hours a week just to make ends meet. There’s no way she could have afforded to pay for my plastic surgery out of pocket.”
“Oh. That’s too bad. You’re actually a pretty cool chick. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you sooner.”
“Why didn’t you?” I asked. I couldn’t help myself. It was something I’d wondered for years.
Maybe if Eric and his friends had actually taken the time to get to know me, they wouldn’t have been so cruel. Maybe they would have realized there was a person beneath the birthmark – one with feelings.
Or maybe they wouldn’t have. I can speculate all I want but it’s hard to say with any certainty whether things would have been any different. Maybe assholes are just destined to be assholes, end of story.
“My sister had asthma.”
“What?”
“My little sister,” Eric explained. “She had asthma really bad when she was a kid. She pretty much outgrew it when she got older but as a kid it was severe. She was in the hospital a lot, constantly having attacks. It sucked.”
“That’s too bad,” I said, “but I’m not following?”
“She got all my parents’ time and attention,” he told me. “I get it now, really I do. But back then it was hard not to be jealous, you know? I couldn’t take my frustration out on her because my parents would have flipped out. So I guess I kind of took it out on you.”
“Why me though?”
“You were there. You stood out. You were an easy target.” He looked uncomfortable. “Look Michelle, I’m sorry. I know you’re probably hoping for some deep explanation that will suddenly make it all make sense. But I’m not sure I can give you that. I don’t know that there was much rhyme or reason to what we did. We were just dumb kids, you know?”
“And dumb teenagers.”
“ Especially dumb teenagers,” he agreed.
Oddly enough, Eric’s completely unsatisfactory explanation did offer me a little closure. At least he wasn’t lying or trying to tell me what he thought I wanted to hear. He was attempting to give me honest answers, even if that meant he had to own up to having been a pretty terrible person with extraordinarily bad judgment. I appreciated the effort.
Silence fell over our table once again and little by little, I felt some of the deep seated resentment I’d been holding onto fade away. I won’t say I forgave him, but at least I stopped considering whether I’d made a mistake by not taking him up on his offer to punch him.
By the time Eric and I finished our cheesecake, it was getting late.
“My car’s parked outside if you want a ride home,” Eric offered.
“That would be good,” I agreed, grateful that I wouldn’t have to wait for the bus or attempt to hail a cab. It was cold and dark outside and cabs could be notoriously hard to catch late in the evening. “I live over on Ninth Street, near Baylor Park.”
“Okay, I think I know where that is.”
Eric’s car was an expensive looking little hatchback. It was pretty much what I expected. When I once again made no effort to have a conversation with him, Eric leaned over and turned on his music. A familiar tune pierced the silence.
“Hey,” I said,
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