Page 67 of Bartholomew
“He would tell me this was why I could not eat the same food as them, why I could not have second helpings. Why I could not do things with the family…” her voice trailed off as one lone tear trekked down her cheek. These weren’t the same angry tears as before. This one was of pure hopelessness. Christ, how I wanted to pull her into my arms and erase every foul memory she had of people dictating her worth based on their preconceived notions of physical beauty. Fuck this place! Fuck this place and fuck these people.
“Family things?” I reiterated, wanting her to tell me everything, needing to hear it all.
“Yeah, family things. Like going into town together to grocery shop with Mother. Or playing a board game with the family in the evening,” she explained.
“What does any of that have to do with your body?” I asked, truly finding myself unable to connect the dots to find the logic.
“Because instead of doing those things, I was told to use that time to do extra chores or to do exercises. But it never seemed to work or be enough.” This poor thing was treated worse than most abused animals. She was basically kicked outside like garbage, being forced to see herself as not a part of her own fucking family. It was a fucked-up nightmare.
“Every day I would cook and clean and exercise. And be quiet. It was just easier that way, in the end. Always around, always available, and….” she trailed off on a choked back sob.
“And never really there,” I finished for her. I felt helpless. I wanted to hold her, to soothe this hurt that was so deep-seated inside of her. I wanted to harm those who had harmed her.
“Exactly,” she breathed out with a heavy sigh. “So, every time I see myself in a mirror, all I can hear is his voice. Their voices. Because of course, what was once only my father speaking to us girls quickly became my mother’s voice. And then my sisters. And the more I heard it from them, the more I picked up on the looks and the comments through town and in church. It became my norm.”
This time when I reached out to her, she came willingly to me, taking my hand and sitting on the couch.
“I did not buy you those items to make you feel more self-conscious, Delilah. I bought them because I think you will look stunning in them. And selfishly because I think I’ll enjoy slowly taking them off of you.” It was the truth, though I doubted she knew it. “If the mirrors bother you, I will take them all down. Today. No question.”
“Don’t take them down, Ollie. It’s your home —”
“It’s our home,” I corrected her. “It’s our home, and I want us both to feel comfortable here. If you want the mirrors down, they will be down today. I truly mean that.”
“But I don’t want them to come down. You’re right, they really do make this house seem brighter and more open. I just wish I didn’t feel so out of place when I see myself here,” she admitted, looking down at our joined hands.
“You are not out of place here, love. Not by a long shot.” I felt her hand squeeze mine at the pet name I had spoken. I had said it a few times, each time noting how she reacted. A blush here, a small smile there. I didn’t know if I was in love with her, but I felt love for her. That much, I could admit. At least to myself for now.
“It’s such a difficult thing, being here,” she explained, squeezing my hand again.
“How so?” I brushed an errant tendril of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. The way she automatically leaned into my touch filled my chest with pride and longing for her.
“I can’t just erase twenty some odd years of being told that I’m not enough, but here you are, day after day, telling me and showing me it’s not the truth. Not for you, at the very least,” she whispered.
“It’s not the truth for me. Not by a long shot. I find you beautiful, Delilah. And I’m not blowing smoke up your ass. I am aware of how others perceive you in Zion. But you are not the worthless one in this situation. Zion is. Zion is nothing more than a toxic cult built on the lies of men who want more power over those they control.” I felt that anger still swirling around in the pit of my stomach, wanting to break free. Breaking free was all I wanted at this point. To get out of this hellhole and find true happiness. Perhaps true happiness with this woman sitting beside me. Perhaps.
“That’s a big statement there, Ollie,” she smirked.
“It is, but it’s the truth. It’s why my brothers and I want out. Well, there are a lot of reasons, but that’s the overwhelming consensus. The way things are in Zion is just a complete clusterfuck.” She chuckled at my statement. “What’s so funny?”
“You curse so much,” she tittered.
“I do. Does it bother you? I don’t in Zion, obviously. But here, in our home, I can be myself,” I explained.
“You’re quite creative with your choice of words, that’s for sure.”
“You should try it more. It’s liberating.” I gave her a smile, feeling the tension inside of me loosening with each smile she returned.
“Hell,” she whispered.
“Oh, you can do better than that, love.” Again, there went her blush. I wondered if she was feeling similar ways about me. She looked from side to side, almost as if she were making sure the coast was clear, felt comfortable enough to say whatever curse word was in her head.
“Fuck,” she breathed, blushing clear down her neck. God, I loved that blush.
“That’s my girl,” I praised, pulling her to me. Her lips were nearly impossible to stop kissing. That lower one, so full and lush, called to me every minute of the day. “Now, if you’re ready, I have some fun plans for us today. It’s time to check off one item on your list.”
Her eyes went wide with excitement. If I could capture that look in a photograph, I would blow it up and hang it on the wall right here in the living room, where I could see it each and every day. Perhaps I could convince Zeke to do a painting one of these days. Granted, he mostly did landscapes, but still.
“What are we going to do?”
