Beautiful: Truth's Found When Beauty's Lost Part 20

"A chart that helps after you've gone through the chart. Helpful."

"Surprising, isn't it."

Ellie took the paper from Maggie's desk and sat back down. "Stasia wasn't like this close friend of mine. I don't really feel like I'm grieving for her."

Maggie leaned back in her chair as if she'd expected this. "You're grieving many things right now, Ellie, whether you realize it or not. You've lost the life you had-a life free from the pain that you've already endured and will continue to endure. You had someone die beside you-best friend or just an acquaintance, that has a very big effect. You lost your boyfriend, the dreams and plans you had . . ."

Ellie straightened up and felt the usual groan of pain in her leg. "Wait, wait a minute. I didn't lose my boyfriend or the dreams and plans I had. What do you mean by that?" A ball of anger grew in her stomach. "What, because I'm a monster now? Is that what you're saying? I can't do any of my dreams and plans because I look like this?"

Maggie never got rattled-something else that annoyed Ellie. She wanted to shout or throw something, but Maggie would probably still sit there as calm as a Zen master.

"That's not what I said, Ellie. You were a different girl last November. And so you grieve for that girl as well."

Ellie couldn't argue, because a small part of her recognized there was truth here.

"It's similar to children of divorced parents or for anyone who has experienced trauma. There is the event and circ.u.mstances surrounding what happened-in your case, the night of the accident. But there is grieving and anger over what you lost-how you've undergone suffering, and so you aren't the same. There's also guilt involved. I had one young man who could never release the guilt he had over his parents' divorce. His father had told him about his affair, and he now believes if he'd told his mom, maybe they could have worked it out."

Ellie didn't want to hear this anymore. Instead she wondered if she knew that guy, and wished to ask his name. Did he go to her school?

"Do you understand?"

"Yes," Ellie said.

"What do you understand?"

Ellie sighed. Here was the part where she had to relay back what she'd learned. "That I'm not the only person angry in the world, and my guilt is normal, and that stuff."

Maggie appeared satisfied. They talked a short time longer, and Ellie was released with instructions on what to work on for the week ahead: studying the stages and considering what makes a person worthy.

Megan was nearly asleep in the car, with her coat zipped to her chin. She pulled the earbuds out of her ears and sat the seat back up.

"Thought you were going shopping while I was in there," Ellie said.

"I hate the mall," Megan said, turning the key to start the car. "What's that? Therapy homework?" She pointed to the paper in Ellie's hand.

"You know, you might consider some therapy yourself."

"Yeah, but then I'd lose my rage toward Mom and Dad and would have no excuse for this bad att.i.tude I enjoy so much."

Ellie laughed at that. She had not fully appreciated her sister's humor; now Megan often made her laugh.

"These are the five stages of grief that I'm experiencing-or so Maggie says." Ellie dramatically read each stage and its accompanying description.

"1. Denial: 'This can't be happening!'

2. Anger: 'It's not fair!' 'How can everyone else just accept this?'

3. Bargaining: 'I'll do anything . . .'

4. Depression: 'What's the point?'

5. Acceptance: 'It'll be okay.'"

Even as they joked about each stage, Ellie felt her annoyance grow. What oversimplified, stereotyped drivel. She wanted to rip up the paper and throw it out the window. Maybe that meant she was in the "anger" stage. She was in all the stages at the same exact time, so didn't that eliminate their being "stages"? And how was it helpful to see such a chart?

"I want to see where it happened," Ellie said suddenly.

"What?" Megan said, but then her face registered a look of understanding. She shook her head.

"I want to see it."

"Why? And why right now?"

"Why not right now?" Ellie glanced at Megan but then kept her eyes ahead on the road. Otherwise the panic would come, as it did whenever she rode in a car.

"You just had a session. You don't seem very happy."

"I'm not happy. How could I be happy?"

"The old, optimistic you would have told the new, bitter you to have more faith, to cheer up, to believe that G.o.d has a purpose . . ."

"Just take me there, okay? Or I'll drive myself."

"You aren't supposed to drive."

"I know. So I guess you better drive me."

Megan was silent. They came to a four-way stop sign, and she sat there with the car idling.

"Turn left," Ellie said. "People are waiting."

A guy in a truck waved for her to go ahead. Still Megan sat there, even as the guy went by with his hands thrown up in frustration. Someone honked behind them.

"Will you just turn left? It's not that big of a deal. I just want to see what it looks like."

Megan put on her left turn signal. "This is a very bad idea."

"And when have you ever cared about an idea being good or bad?"

Megan shook her head. "Was I this much of a pain in the b.u.t.t?"

"You still are."

Ellie would not have recognized it in the daytime. The road was northeast of Redding in an area she didn't know so well. That night of the party, she hadn't been paying attention to the road. Perhaps if she'd driven up and down that stretch, eventually she would've found the spot. Megan knew just where to pull over.

Turning off the engine, she looked at Ellie. Their eyes met, but neither spoke as they got out of the car.

There were light skid marks still on the road where Stasia had tried to miss the deer. And somewhat hidden in the late afternoon shadows, a wreath of silk flowers was nailed to a tree. The road was peaceful, with only an occasional car pa.s.sing by. Beyond the trees, the foothills rolled up against the taller mountains surrounding the city. This was a stretch of country between the subdivision where Mitch's father lived and the town of Redding.

Ellie wished she'd worn her warm jacket as she began to s.h.i.+ver in the cold afternoon. She stared off the road where it sloped slightly. The bushes were broken, and as she walked through the damp, golden gra.s.ses, the site of the accident could be detected, but only faintly. The trees and earth were already covering it up. Green gra.s.s sprouted close to the earth, nearly hiding the indentations of where the car had come to rest and where emergency vehicles had come to surround them.

Ellie wondered what it must have looked like from the viewpoint of the people who came to help, from the first car to spot the accident to the paramedics rus.h.i.+ng forward with their gear. She knew the inside view. Had Stasia ever been conscious after their initial impact? Both girls' blood had seeped into this very ground. This was the place where Stasia forever left the living and joined the dead.

Something caught her eye at the base of a thick, spiny bush. She reached for it. A thorn caught her sleeve, and Ellie felt the sting of its point entering her skin. Still she reached toward the object half-buried in the dirt.

She grabbed it, already knowing what it was. Once her most valued possession.

"Look," she said, holding up the cell phone for Megan to see.

"It probably doesn't work, but try it."

Ellie held down the power b.u.t.ton, but nothing hap pened. Then she noticed the crack in the screen. The night of the accident, she remembered it ringing, and she'd tried to get to it. Ryan's ringtone. "Electrical Storm." The soundtrack to Stasia's death.

"What did they do with Stasia's car?"

Megan shrugged. "Probably sent it to the junkyard."

Ellie nodded absently. Everything eventually ended up in the junkyard, it seemed.

"Okay. Let's go home. I've seen enough."

Ellie didn't want to see anyone the rest of the day. She told her mom that she didn't feel well, setting off the chain reaction of thermometers and a long round of questions.

"I have cramps," she lied, which effectively ended her mother's panic and kept Will from coming up the stairs.

She kept the lights in her room low, turning on The Motorcycle Diaries that Will had left for her. Reading the English subt.i.tles made her sleepy, and later she awoke in the dark with Maggie's questions sounding in her head.

But really, what was she now without her face? With a body that was always in pain? On the surface that sounded superficial, but the fact was, her looks, her strength, her drive and pa.s.sion to achieve had built her confidence for as long as she could remember. What did she have without her confidence? Why was her self-confidence so tied to being able to walk with fearless strength, unconcerned with how she looked?

Why was she so afraid now?

Yes, death had come to visit. Death locked her in that car, but it had chosen Stasia and left her to live. It had taken her grandfather and eventually would take everything and every one she loved and hated. She'd always had her faith in G.o.d. Now she felt that Death was a larger G.o.d than G.o.d Himself. No, no, she told herself. She didn't believe that, not really. But she knew Death's face better than G.o.d's. She felt the suffering of death in her scars and wounds, whereas she didn't feel G.o.d at all anymore.

And now with her friends mostly gone, and everything and everyone moving on without her-oh, how wrong Ryan had been when he said the school couldn't survive without her; even he was surviving well without her-what had been the point of all she had done? Food drives, spooning mashed potatoes and giving a smile to the lines of homeless at the rescue mission, student council meetings, and all her pages of plans and to-dos.

What was the point in all those things?

Grandfather told me, and now it's come true.

He had held her chin and looked her straight in the eye. Mom was in the hospital, recovering from what Ellie now knew was a hysterectomy. Grandfather picked her and Megan up from grade school. When Ellie showed him her math paper that said "100%" and "Great job!" Grandfather suddenly came unhinged.

"Who do you think you are? All Miss High and Mighty. You think you're better than everyone else."

He'd bent down to face her, roughly squeezing her jaw, the scent of something putrid on his breath. "You will never amount to anything, Elspeth Summerfield. Do you understand me? You will be a failure, and you will always be what you are now. A nothing."

Her papers fell from her hands as Grandfather stalked away. Megan's mouth had dropped, and Ellie had run back out the front door. Neither of them ever told her parents.

And even now, knowing that what he had done was incredibly cruel and that everyone would say to let it go, that her grandfather was a bitter, hateful man, his words stayed within her. They were a wound healed over with bitter scars.

Where is my worth? What is my value?

Could it be bought by service? Did it come from her looks? Would it be found in some African hut as she cared for dying children?

Despite everyone's saying that a person's worth was not found in these things, Ellie couldn't let go of the belief that it was. And she now fulfilled her grandfather's prophecy. Now the disfigured within her had come to the surface. The inside was clearly visible for all to see.

Ellie's phone rang on the bed beside her head.

"Cramps?" Will asked sarcastically.

"Yeah. You can't understand."

"Oh, I understand. Get ready. I'm taking you out."

"Funny."

But his voice wasn't joking.

"It's a Friday night. I'll be there in two hours. Your mom already said yes."

"No, I'm not going." But Ellie already knew she would be. Why not? Why keep hiding the monster that she was? "Where are we going?"

Chapter 16.

THE OUTSIDER.

The No-Longer-Anonymous Blog about Life at West Redding High

April 13 Comments: Who is Megan Summerfield? I only know Ellie. Are they related?