Page 8 of Between Now and Forever

“James, come on. You’re just asking for trouble. Can’t you ignore it like everyone else?” I stamp my foot and he laughs at the overtly childish gesture.

“Just trust me. You’ll love it.” He kisses my cheek, gives me another once-over - this time with an approving glint in his eye and goes back to his office.

I stand there trying to think of how I can dissuade him when I realize that I just sailed over the last hurdle between me and going out with Duke today.

I sag in relief.

I’ll cross my birthday bridge when I get to it, I decide. Maybe today will be a harbinger for this birthday, my twenty-first, to be different too.

“Okay, don’t work too hard,” I call over my shoulder and rush out to the foyer to wait.

“Love you, sis.” He calls back and guilt makes my step falter.

I hate lying to my brother. But if he knew it was Duke, he’d never let me go. Not after the disastrous night a few weeks ago. He hasn’t brought it up again, but he’s never been so angry with me before and the whole ordeal is still fresh in my mind. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize his letting me stay with him this summer.

My parents spend every summer at their house in Cabo and usually, I go with them. But, I hate going and this year James interceded and they agreed to let me stay behind.

I still live at home with them, and even though I’m about to turn twenty-one, my father’s ultra conservative background and beliefs means that I can’t stay home unsupervised. So, I’m staying with James and his wife, Erin.

I’ve only been here for a few weeks, but my whole life has changed. And even though I’m sneaking out to do it – if today goes as planned – my father will be proud of me.

Finally.

My family is one of the richest families in the state of Texas, but Duke’s family is the most powerful. My father’s family has courted their friendship and patronage for decades. Duke’s father is a US Senator and he’s the chairman of the party my father hopes to represent in his bid for governor. It’s an office his father held for one term before he was soundly routed.

Senator Tremaine and my father have been friends for years. But, my father is desperate for his endorsement. So far, in the previous three attempts he’s made at the governorship, he’s failed to secure it.

A few weeks ago, we were invited to the Tremaine’s for dinner. James had been called away to an emergency at a construction site a couple hours away, so it was just me and my parents.

That morning, a rack of dresses and a team of makeup artists showed up at our house to get me ready.

When they were done, I didn’t recognize myself. My hair was too short to do anything with, but my face and body had been transformed.

My birthmark was completely gone. Without it, I looked like anyone else. The dress they put me in was a pink cocktail-length dress with elbow-length sleeves and a collar that came all the way up to my throat. But, it fit me, and with the body shaping undergarments they’d stuffed me into, I didn’t look flat chested at all.

When I came down, my father did a double take and said “Nice.”

His dismissal of me as ugly was too entrenched in my psyche for me to forget, but his brief compliment paired with it, enlightened me and was the catalyst for the changes I’ve made since then.

Now, I understand that what people see when they look at me has nothing to do with who I am, or what I feel, or what Iwantthem to see.

I took a long hard look in the mirror and made myselfseewhat they did.

Without anything covering it, my birthmark – called a Port Wine Stain – was the first thing anyone who looked at me saw. My hair, so shortwasin fact, tomboyish. My breasts were nonexistent breasts, my mouth, overly generous.

My clothes were all chosen for comfort and obscurity - but they just highlight my lack of feminine grace. And in a town where the standard of beauty is modeled on an ideal that’s so far from what I look like – it’s no wonder they’ve taken all of that in and found me lacking.

How could they know what really lies beneath the shell that I had no part in creating?

What about my appearance says that in my chest beats a heart with a vast capacity for love and forgiveness. What part of my appearance displays that my imagination is relentless and uninhibited? Where’s the evidence of my wicked sense of humor?

How could they know that Ilovebeautiful things?

I used to pray that one day they’d look at me and see all of those things and think that I was a beautiful thing who should be loved, too.

In the weeks since this revelation, I’ve learned the futility of such prayers. If I want them to see me, then I have to show them who I am.

And that night, I got a taste of what it might be like to be me – both inside and out.

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