The Scars We See, the Scars We Don't
Posted: 2003-08-30 10:56pm
I was walking around the mall and this seemed to just spring into my head. I don't know why. But, enjoy.
"Why does he sit alone every day?"
"Huh?" David looked up from devouring a ham sandwich. "Who?"
"Him," Rebecca said, pointing. The boy sat at a lunch table all by himself, writing furiously.
"Oh," Dave said. "That's Keith. He doesn't like people."
"Well, why not?" She kept looking at him. "He looks nice."
"Don't."
"What?" she said, taken aback.
"I know what you're thinking, Becca," Dave said. "Don't."
"But I need a prom date," she said. "And I've only got a week before they start selling tickets."
"Not Keith. Trust me."
"You're just jealous," she said with a smile. She stood. "I'm going to ask him."
"Becca-" she tuned him out and walked over to where Keith sat alone.
"Hi," she said, a bit uncertain. He stopped writing and glared up at her. She suddenly noticed a long, winding scar running down the side of his face.
"What do you want?" he asked harshly.
"Um, my name's Rebecca...are you going to the prom?"
"No." Flat. Cold. Emotionless.
"Would you like to be my date?"
"No. And if you're finished wasting my time..."
Becca walked back to her table and sat down in a trance. "I tried to warn you," David said.
"What's his deal?" she asked softly. "I mean, I'm not trying to be bitchy or anything, but jeez, he's nasty."
David sighed. "Look, just leave him alone. Dad-" he suddenly shut up.
"Dad what?" she asked. "Are you two related?"
David cursed under his breath. "Becca, you have to promise not to tell this to anyone," he said.
"Okay."
"Anyone," he insisted. "I swear to God, you cannot tell a soul."
"I promise," she said solemnly.
David leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. "Keith and I are twins, fraternal twins. When we were three, our parents divorced. I stayed with dad. Keith went with mom."
"Ouch," Becca said.
"You have no idea. Mom...didn't like Keith. I don't know why. Dad kept trying to get full custody, but the courts turned him down." David sighed again. "Mom abused Keith. Physically, I mean. Dad and I would visit and he'd always have bruises or cuts on him. Mom kept explaining them away, but I think dad knew better."
"Jesus," Becca said. She looked back over at Keith. He was no longer writing, but his pencil was still sliding over the page.
"Then it all came to a head," David continued. "When we were ten, Keith wound up in the hospital. Mom said he fell down the stairs. Dad accused her of hitting him with something, but since he couldn't prove anything, Keith stayed with mom." David traced the side of his face. "That's how he got the scar." Becca sat quietly. "Dad really started pouring it on. He wanted to get Keith away from mom. Then one day, she bought a gun and filed a restraining order." David shook his head. "She said that dad was stalking her, and since there was nothing more than circumstantial evidence of abuse, the courts didn't make a move. I guess she started giving Keith hell in no uncertain terms, but he doesn't talk about it much…anyway, one day, he just snapped."
"What?"
"Mom pushed Keith down the stairs. He ran, grabbed her gun, and shot her with it."
Becca's hands went to her mouth. "You're kidding. Please say you're kidding."
David shook his head. "The police decided to let him off when he started telling them about what she did to him." David's fists clenched. "Dad finally got custody, but Keith...Keith just didn't recover. I think mom damaged his brain permanently. And what happened after that didn't help."
"What happened?"
"Well, Keith and I grew up some, and he decided to ask a girl out. They went for a few weeks, then she dumped him. Wasn't very nice about it either. She started spreading rumors about him, stuff that was total bullshit, but she made him feel terrible. Then he decided to try again. After a couple months, this one gave a note to a friend about dumping him. Except that the friend never followed through, and Keith ran into her with her new boyfriend. They got into a fight and Keith got his arm broken."
Becca stared at the table. "I can't believe it."
"Keith got convinced that she set him up, even though she said she hadn't. That was when Keith really changed. He stopped trusting people. He won't make friends with anyone, and he barely even talks to dad and me. I thought he was suicidal for a while, but it wasn't that. It's...he just slammed off all his emotions. He just doesn't care for anything anymore. And he gets violent when people pester him." David looked up at her. "So don't bother him, okay?"
Becca sat silently. Then, she stood, and over David's protests, walked back towards Keith's table. She ignored his hostile glare and sat down. "What the fuck do you want now?" he asked, his voice soft and deadly.
"Keith," she said. "I know a lot of bad stuff has happened to you, but you shouldn't stop caring because of it."
"What would you know?" he asked scornfully.
"More than you think." She lifted the sleeve of her t-shirt to show him a gruesome burn scar on her arm. "When I was eight, my dad burned me with an iron. For a while, I didn't wear short-sleeved shirts because I was afraid people would laugh at me. But I learned to live with it. And I made friends who wouldn't mock me out because of it." She reached out and gently rested her hand on his. "I'd like to be your friend, Keith. Please let me," she said.
He stared at her for a minute, then slowly slid a sheet of paper towards her. She picked it up and smiled. He'd drawn a picture of her.
"Why does he sit alone every day?"
"Huh?" David looked up from devouring a ham sandwich. "Who?"
"Him," Rebecca said, pointing. The boy sat at a lunch table all by himself, writing furiously.
"Oh," Dave said. "That's Keith. He doesn't like people."
"Well, why not?" She kept looking at him. "He looks nice."
"Don't."
"What?" she said, taken aback.
"I know what you're thinking, Becca," Dave said. "Don't."
"But I need a prom date," she said. "And I've only got a week before they start selling tickets."
"Not Keith. Trust me."
"You're just jealous," she said with a smile. She stood. "I'm going to ask him."
"Becca-" she tuned him out and walked over to where Keith sat alone.
"Hi," she said, a bit uncertain. He stopped writing and glared up at her. She suddenly noticed a long, winding scar running down the side of his face.
"What do you want?" he asked harshly.
"Um, my name's Rebecca...are you going to the prom?"
"No." Flat. Cold. Emotionless.
"Would you like to be my date?"
"No. And if you're finished wasting my time..."
Becca walked back to her table and sat down in a trance. "I tried to warn you," David said.
"What's his deal?" she asked softly. "I mean, I'm not trying to be bitchy or anything, but jeez, he's nasty."
David sighed. "Look, just leave him alone. Dad-" he suddenly shut up.
"Dad what?" she asked. "Are you two related?"
David cursed under his breath. "Becca, you have to promise not to tell this to anyone," he said.
"Okay."
"Anyone," he insisted. "I swear to God, you cannot tell a soul."
"I promise," she said solemnly.
David leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. "Keith and I are twins, fraternal twins. When we were three, our parents divorced. I stayed with dad. Keith went with mom."
"Ouch," Becca said.
"You have no idea. Mom...didn't like Keith. I don't know why. Dad kept trying to get full custody, but the courts turned him down." David sighed again. "Mom abused Keith. Physically, I mean. Dad and I would visit and he'd always have bruises or cuts on him. Mom kept explaining them away, but I think dad knew better."
"Jesus," Becca said. She looked back over at Keith. He was no longer writing, but his pencil was still sliding over the page.
"Then it all came to a head," David continued. "When we were ten, Keith wound up in the hospital. Mom said he fell down the stairs. Dad accused her of hitting him with something, but since he couldn't prove anything, Keith stayed with mom." David traced the side of his face. "That's how he got the scar." Becca sat quietly. "Dad really started pouring it on. He wanted to get Keith away from mom. Then one day, she bought a gun and filed a restraining order." David shook his head. "She said that dad was stalking her, and since there was nothing more than circumstantial evidence of abuse, the courts didn't make a move. I guess she started giving Keith hell in no uncertain terms, but he doesn't talk about it much…anyway, one day, he just snapped."
"What?"
"Mom pushed Keith down the stairs. He ran, grabbed her gun, and shot her with it."
Becca's hands went to her mouth. "You're kidding. Please say you're kidding."
David shook his head. "The police decided to let him off when he started telling them about what she did to him." David's fists clenched. "Dad finally got custody, but Keith...Keith just didn't recover. I think mom damaged his brain permanently. And what happened after that didn't help."
"What happened?"
"Well, Keith and I grew up some, and he decided to ask a girl out. They went for a few weeks, then she dumped him. Wasn't very nice about it either. She started spreading rumors about him, stuff that was total bullshit, but she made him feel terrible. Then he decided to try again. After a couple months, this one gave a note to a friend about dumping him. Except that the friend never followed through, and Keith ran into her with her new boyfriend. They got into a fight and Keith got his arm broken."
Becca stared at the table. "I can't believe it."
"Keith got convinced that she set him up, even though she said she hadn't. That was when Keith really changed. He stopped trusting people. He won't make friends with anyone, and he barely even talks to dad and me. I thought he was suicidal for a while, but it wasn't that. It's...he just slammed off all his emotions. He just doesn't care for anything anymore. And he gets violent when people pester him." David looked up at her. "So don't bother him, okay?"
Becca sat silently. Then, she stood, and over David's protests, walked back towards Keith's table. She ignored his hostile glare and sat down. "What the fuck do you want now?" he asked, his voice soft and deadly.
"Keith," she said. "I know a lot of bad stuff has happened to you, but you shouldn't stop caring because of it."
"What would you know?" he asked scornfully.
"More than you think." She lifted the sleeve of her t-shirt to show him a gruesome burn scar on her arm. "When I was eight, my dad burned me with an iron. For a while, I didn't wear short-sleeved shirts because I was afraid people would laugh at me. But I learned to live with it. And I made friends who wouldn't mock me out because of it." She reached out and gently rested her hand on his. "I'd like to be your friend, Keith. Please let me," she said.
He stared at her for a minute, then slowly slid a sheet of paper towards her. She picked it up and smiled. He'd drawn a picture of her.
)
