Loved In Pieces (46 page)

He put a towel around me and hugged me. I relaxed.
  His hugs recharged me. He alone
had the power to breathe life into me with his mere presence.
For him, having sex tattoo
e
d his heart.
Simply h
is embrace tattoo
e
d mine.
He was, without a doubt, my true love
and
soul mate.

“Well
,
I’ve aced all my exams so far. I’m so glad you were home.”
He added, “Do you want to get something to eat with me before I head home?”

“Let’s eat here,” I said as I
walked inside
. “I splurged in the cafeteria at lunch so I have to have a disciplined dinner. I’ll eat my prepared lunch and you can have tonight’s dinner. Does that work for you?”

He
grinned
as he looked at my body.
“
Wow!
You change. I’ll get dinner ready.”

I ate my prepared lunch for my dinner and Manuel joked about the “appetizer” that was his dinner and schemed ways that he’d have me gain weight, the
‘f
reshman
fifteen
,
’
when I was finally done with the Muse project. We were both very happy to have the time together. We studied for our
Chinese
exam. When we covered all the material, he left to go study for his other exam.
I thought it would be selfish to beg him to stay.

I logged on to
Gmail
. CSY6 emailed me back.

Hi CSY7,

The whole point is that you don’t make the same mistakes twice. Yes, the kids are immature. B
ut who cares? It’
s like you’
re the older sibling. I lived and learned. Now I
don’t mess up the same way.
I think through consequences before I take action. I make active choices about everything I do.

I don’t date anybody. I don’t want to date a girl who smokes. Europeans smoke. I don’t want to date a girl who wears a lot of makeup or
sleazy
clothes. She also has to be athletic. So, no one meets my criteria anyway.

I went to high school in Atherton, California, where my dad lives. My mom
and dad are still married, but she lives with me and my sisters here in Geneva.
My dad and mom grew up here. His dad owned the pharmaceutical company before he died. My dad’s brother took it over but he died, too. My dad’s
sister
runs it and dad developed
x
-nib for the company.  Dad is also a research professor at Stanford.

In California, I messed up a lot dating the first time around. I
thought I was going to die so
I didn’t study, drank a lot, and was a jock. I was prom king. I got lousy grades so I couldn’t get into a good college.
I also broke up with a girl I completely loved and wanted to marry.
I don’t want that emotional pain in my life.

M
y
repeated
junior
year has been a very good year. I have perfect scores and have learned a ton. There’s no drama. No drama is nice.

I still mess up. But at least I don’t hurt anyone now.

How am I? Honestly: lonely. I don’t relate to people my age. I work hard to find distractions so I don’t dwell on not knowing if I have a future
. I want to LIVE.

It’
s nice to know I can tell you how I feel. Thanks.
—
CSY6

I emailed him back right away.

Hi CSY6.
I decided from now on I will make telling the truth to loved ones my #1 objective. Being honest with fears and insecurities is the easiest path to peace. I’m going to trust people again, starting with you. Please don’t betray me.

I didn’t think about how you wouldn’t be making the same mistakes you made before when repeating high school. Interesting perspective.

I haven’t really thought of what I want to do after I stop acting a few years from now.
Now that I know I was created, manipulated, exploited
… made into an actress – my insides are hollow. A co-star
tried to rape
me but this is far worse. I’m terrified of trusting someone again. I’m terrified of being alone. I want to elope, keep my boyfriend as close to me as possible, so I don’t have to face x-nib’s consequences
by myself
. But I don’t want to trap him, either
, although I completely relate to the desperation my ex-friend felt when she made up being pregnant
. I hate that I’m trapped in Hollywood’s web
– I am the web
.

The problem is
that
I’m
really good at
acting
. I tried to make myself hate it, tried to think it was not what I wanted to do, that an acting career was forced upon me. But honestly,
it is what it is. Acting
comes naturally to me.
My latest film was good, and it has been cool being a part of its success.
Lately, I
learned that
I could continue acting but specify my own terms so that I didn’t have to do industry events, which I find painful. I know it is ironic that students go to college to learn how to act and here I know how to act already.

Why would I go
to college? What would I study?
Do I have a future anyway? Will I die tomorrow? I’m not replaceable. The show must go on.
It’s so hard to keep breathing!
—
CSY7

I pressed send and then shut down my computer. I was ready for my Wednesday exam
s
and
history
final
. I heard the door close.

“Manuel, what are
you doing back?” I blurted out, so grateful that he returned.

He laughed as walked down the hall to my bedroom. “I want to stay with my girl tonight. I’ve missed you.” He embraced me
in the doorway
and slowed his breathi
ng. He relaxed. “I’m
addicted to you. Now I can get some sleep.” He kissed my forehead and walked
in
to the hallway. “I’ll make you some tea while you get ready for bed.
How about I hold you all night?”

I smiled, “I’d love that.”

I changed and walked towards the kitchen. I stopped when I saw Manuel gazing out the windows in the living room. I wrapped my arms around him and stood beside him, also taking in the magnificent view of the ocean and canyon.
The sun had set but the sky was still blue.

He whispered, “You are this view. I’ve thought so since I’ve been a kid
. You’re this anomaly in Santa Monica, beautiful and pure when you should be a rich brat, all fake and superficial.”

I disagreed, “No, I thought I was real, but I’m one-hundred percent made. I’m not natural, not even close.”

“
Y
ou
are
natural
, just like the canyon. One hundred years ago, this canyon would
have looked like a canyon north of Malibu
, right? But people built homes and planted trees and plants with beautiful flowers. They grew. This is what was created, and it’s beautiful, just like you. You’re
real
and have your spirits. The
y’
re here, with you, in you.”

His words moved me. He appreciated me for what I held the most dear: the beauty and power of nature. I kissed him, but the kiss moved me too, left me breathless, filled
me
with love and beauty, and peace.

I looked into his glorious eyes and admitted, “You’ve just tattoo
e
d my heart
again
. We share our souls, Manuel, have the same values.
Your spirit is in me and has been for a very long time.
I used to think it was impossible for you to love me as
much as
I love you, but here we are. Thank you for loving me.”

“I feel the same way. You always complain that you can feel me get angry, that I emit
hostility. You’re the opposite. You radiate joy, like right now. I feel it. It fills me up inside, makes me so happy.”

I smiled at him, “You
emanate
hostility on those rare occasions but most of the time you radiate warmth when you’re around me. I feel it right now. You relax me and smell really good.”

We held each other and shared the view, letting our love
fill our hearts.

My finals were not going well. I bombed the English final and struggled in Chemistry.
I
did fine in Chinese and
botched the history final.

In English, I had to write an essay
about
Sylvia Plath’s poem
,
but I didn’t know
the
poem well
enough
. I hated her
confessional poetry
so I didn’t study it. Manuel and
Mitch
hated it, too. I thought Plath
’s poetry
was completely over-rated.
S
he was depressed, mentally ill
,
and was a selfish bitch who killed herself by putting her head in
the
kitchen oven with the gas on while her two kids were sleeping in their beds, not caring
that
her kids
might
find her. Putting her
talented but dark
poetry on a pedestal irritated me. It was irresponsible that critics d
id that kind of crap, j
ust like
they did with
my first movie, where everyone
loved
taking a horrible story of a child getting raped and putting it in everyone’s faces. Why should a t
eenager want to read
despair
ing poetry
about some twisted lady who hated her life? Yuck. Why didn’t
my teacher
choose Eliot or Frost. There
wa
s darkness in their poetry
,
but there
wa
s also hope and beauty. Seriously, I hate
d
that this culture praise
s
the psycho stuff and marginalize
s
the hopeful literature. By choosing Plath, our high school educators
acclaimed
her
whining
as excellence and an ideal that teens should applaud. Of course Plath was chosen. Of course
Left to Die
won the Academy Award. Of course
Michelle
won Best Actress. Of course I did, too. That was the essay I wanted to write for the exam.

I also couldn’t remember what a sow was, which was the subject of Plath’s awful
poem. I thought it was a female pig but I wasn’t sure. How d
id
I write an essay on a sow in a poem by a poet I c
ouldn
’t stand reading? Why
after I f
ound
out that Kate and
Michelle
were
both psycho
?

In the History final, I expected to write short essays about why events became significant and influential. Instead, we had to draw our own Western Civilization timeline, with dates. That was the entire final. I was so frustrated because I
was
able to memorize stuff like a timeline in a flash. If I had only looked at the Western Civ timeline for even fifteen minutes I would have aced the final.
It also i
nfuriated me because I was half-
Native American, from a culture close to extinction from the subtle tyranny of U.S. policymakers.

Wiped out, I drove from school to Alan’s house.
I met Manuel,
Mitch
, Beth and Alan at Alan’s backyard pool. Several girls who I recognized as cheerleaders were swimming in the pool
with Sam
and some guys
. I waved at them. They were all drunk, laughing and clowning around.

“Hi Manuel!” I squealed
when I saw him. “Hey
Mitch
, Beth, Alan.”

Manuel bolted out of his chair towards me, smiling. He lifted me off the ground into a bear hug.
We kissed
each other passionately. My entire body tingled
. I fainted.

I came to, but was dizzy. It took me a minute to regain my footing. That was quite a kiss. I realized that Manuel’s d
rinking impaired the control he
forc
ed
upon himself. He still desperately wanted me. So we actually felt the same way. Good.

“Are you
o
k
ay
?” Manuel
studied my face
.