Beneath the Scars

I looked down at the offering, a strange sensation welling up in my chest.

“I didn’t know how you took it, so I only added cream. I have some sugar packages,” she added. I could hear the hope in her voice. She wanted me to accept her peace offering.

“I like it black.”

“Oh.”

How she managed to saturate so much disappointment into one syllable, I had no idea. Or why the fact she was disappointed bothered me so much. I reached forward, pulling the basket closer and lifted out a piece of the banana bread. I felt her eyes on me the whole time as I bit and chewed the dense slice.

“It’s good,” I offered gruffly.

She picked up a piece and nibbled on it, not saying anything. I turned away and lifted the camera, capturing the breathtaking colors and shapes of the unusual, darker clouds as the dying sun spread its magic one last time for the day.

“Do you take a lot of pictures?”

“Some.”

“Do you also sell those?”

“No.”

She made a small frustrated sigh in the back of her throat. “Where’s Elliott?”

“In the house. I came alone so I could concentrate. I didn’t want the distraction.”

“Am I distracting you?”

“Yes.”

“I only wanted to come and say I was sorry.”

“You did that.”

“Is that a dismissal?”

I huffed out an impatient exhale of air. “I came out to capture the unique light. Not chat.”

“You prefer peace and quiet?”

My voice became sharp. “I like quiet—I have no idea what peace feels like.”

I started at the feeling of her small hand resting on my arm. The warmth of her tender touch was shocking; my entire body humming with electricity. “I understand.”

I stood up with a jerk, keeping my back to her. My heart raced at her close proximity and the strange need to feel more of her touches. “I doubt that very much.”

She stood, as well. “That’s rather presumptuous of you. You don’t know anything about me or my life.”

“And I don’t want to.”

She gasped. “My God, you’re rude. I was only—”

I cut her off. “I don’t care what you were trying to do. Leave me alone, Megan. I don’t need a friend or someone to sympathize with.” I pushed the basket with my foot. “I’m not looking for company or little baskets of treats. Just stay away from me.”

Only silence greeted me. I knew if I turned and dared to look at her, there would be tears in her dark eyes. Hurt would once again color her expression, but I needed her to stay away.

I lifted the camera back up, even though the light was fading, the colors lessening and losing their vibrancy. I felt her move away—her footsteps withdrawing. I turned and watched her, and unable to help myself, captured her retreating figure on film. Her head was bowed, shoulders hunched in sadness as she hurried from me. Even her hair, still gleaming in the dull light, fell flat over her shoulders, no longer lifting and moving in the breeze. The light of the sun wasn’t the only thing that faded in front of my eyes—I had crushed her brightness. I also effectively and completely convinced her of what I wanted: to be left alone.

She disappeared into her house, never once turning back.

My legs felt heavy as I made my way up the steps to my own house.

Alone had never felt as lonely as it did that very moment.* * *MeganI tossed and turned all night after my run-in with Zachary. He made it very apparent he wanted nothing to do with me or my friendly gestures. His rejection caused an ache in my chest I couldn’t explain and everything in me told me his actions caused him the same pain. I didn’t believe him when he said he wanted to be alone—I was certain it was the only way he knew how to be.

By the afternoon, the pressure behind my eyes was almost unbearable. The gathering storm from yesterday still hung low and thick, moving in slow. The closer it came, the more my headache intensified. I had every symptom of a migraine: the tunnel vision, sensitivity to light, throbbing pain, and increasing nausea. The only thing I didn’t have: my medication. It had been a while since my last headache, so I hadn’t even thought to bring it. Some Tylenol in the bathroom cabinet was the best I could do. I knew I needed to lie down and rest, so I left the sliding door open for some fresh air, then curled up on the sofa. Dixie came up beside me, burrowing her little body next to mine. I closed my eyes, praying the storm would break soon and help ease my headache.

A noise woke me, and I sat up, blinking and disoriented. The drapery panel beside the sliding door was blowing, knocking into the wall. Outside, it was darker than before, early evening beginning to settle over the sky, but it seemed the storm was easing off. Although it appeared like we would still get rain, it would not be the huge storm that had been predicted. Grateful the pain in my head had abated somewhat, I stretched and got up from the sofa. Frowning, I realized the invisible screen had drawn in on itself, leaving the door wide open. As I reached to snap it back in place, I looked behind me. Dixie wasn’t on the sofa or the chair. I smiled, knowing she had probably gone to snuggle on the bed—she loved to burrow under blankets. Maybe the screen sliding open had startled her; I wasn’t sure how long it had been ajar. Walking into the bedroom, I was surprised not to see a little lump under the covers. I checked beneath the bed and in the closet, then tried looking in the other bedroom.