less I recognized the face staring back.
My eyes looked slightly sunken, and instead of smile lines, I could spot lines across my forehead and between my brow. My jaw, constantly tensed, seemed almost strained. I could never truly grow a beard, but the splotchy shadow of hair was trying its damned hardest. I needed a haircut, the dark brown strands starting to grow over my ears.
This wasn’t me. This was never me.
I grew up as a solid stone of support, always able to roll with the punches life threw at us. Optimism was my drug. Even when it seemed like the world stacked everything against us, I kept on smiling and trying to hold on to the positive. When Dusty stopped talking to people for a year, I was there to help him back; I was there when I knew he wouldn’t even mumble a word to me. I stuck by his side, and most importantly, I smiled and joked and tried to keep the light of life alive.
I don’t know exactly when, or exactly why, or even exactly how, but I knew that my own light had gone out and I had no idea how to turn it back on.
I should be happy. I shouldn’t be crying. I’m healthy, I’m with family, Rex is back in my life. I should be happy.
I cried harder. I turned the faucets to full force, hoping it would drown out the sobs that were wrenched from my body.
I can’t be happy. I can’t.
At some point, I sank to the floor. The black-and-white tiles felt cold on my knees, my palms. I dropped my head in the cave my arms created.
I’m broken.
The thought rang in my head like a shattered bell, its chaotic sound making my head hurt. Or maybe that was the crying? Could be the crying.
I wasn’t sure how long I stayed on the bathroom floor, thinking about everything: my lack of drive, the lack of any good prospects for a career, my lack of feeling any kind of elation for what happened last night.
At some point, the tears dried, and the water bill was most likely way higher than it should be. I stood and washed my face before turning off the water. The face reflected in the mirror looked like even more of a stranger, with puffy and red eyes. Still, somewhere underneath the sad mask, somewhere in there was the old Benji. I just needed to figure out how to pull him out.
The rest of the morning went by without anymore spontaneous cry fests. I did start feeling a little better, as if the tears had helped remind me that I wasn’t as broken as I liked to believe. The dark clouds in my head moved aside, and I started looking back at last night and feeling that same familiar spark light in my gut. I stayed in my room after my bathroom meltdown, but I decided to venture out around lunchtime. I’d been spending my lunches inside my room over the last few weeks, eating sandwiches and drinking protein shakes while I watched old anime episodes.
Not today. The sun hung bright and full in the sky, and the weather was that perfect Georgia mix of summer and fall. Not cold enough for coats and not hot enough for shorts. I threw on a T-shirt and some track pants, and I wandered outside, where my moms were hanging out by a table on the patio. Uncle Peanut was there, wearing a bright yellow and pink button-up shirt, the small amount of white hairs on his head trimmed short as if he were ready for a big date.
And Rex was there, too. He looked so damn good, and I wasn’t just saying that because I’d seen him naked only about five hours earlier. No, even with clothes on, Rex looked like a man pulled right out of a “perfect guy” catalogue. He had a smile that glowed, and those sky-blue eyes of his matched the glow, flashes of last night streaking across my brain.
Flashes of those eyes, half-lidded and hungry, his mouth turned to an O as he blew his load all over me.
“Someone’s looking spiffy,” I said as I joined the four of them, focusing on Uncle Peanut and reminding myself that my moms were sitting only a few feet away from me.
Jack gave himself a vogue frame, working his haircut like a pro. “Aunt Gabbie cut it. She did a good job, right?”
“Damn, she did.”
Mia covered her mouth