Maria Undone

Chapter 14 (Maria)

Maria aged 7

From the private notes of Dr Anna Morris.

My stomach gurgled again, and I pulled my legs up, wrapping my small arms around their skinny frame. Maybe if I squeezed my stomach hard enough it would stop hurting.

From the other side of the wall, a rhythmic squeak was picking up speed, and I grasped my ears with my palms, pressing deep.

I squeezed my eyes shut and imagined hot sausages, waffles with cream, warm bread rolls, and hot fries with a tall glass of soda.

Last year, at the end of school, we watched The Little Princess. Princess Sara and her friend had been starving, just like me, and pretended to eat a make-believe feast. The next morning, they woke to their room filled with real piping hot food. I tried to pretend that I was Sara. At least she had friends. Maybe if I wished hard enough, I'd wake up as Princess Sara, with a father who remembered me and would take me away.

I wasn't always hungry. Sometimes, Mom would meet some guy who would buy us groceries for a few weeks. But then they would leave. They always left.

A loud moan came from Mom's room, and then a man's shout. I knew not to disturb them. The first time I heard that sound, I ran to her room, scared that my mom was being hurt. The scene confused me, and even more so when Mom yelled at me and threw a can at my head.

The moans got louder and longer, and I squeezed my eyes tighter, pressing harder on my ears until the noise stopped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The trick to beach waves is to keep the ends straight. People tend to curl them all in the same direction without breaking them up. So then you're left with bent hair that look like drill bits. It does not look cute unless you're in a kids' beauty pageant."

The young teen's shoulders sagged as she stared at me through the mirror. "That's where I've been going wrong."

"Easy mistake." I patted her shoulder. "Easy to fix, too. I'll show you a quick way so you can do it at home in less than ten minutes."

She flashed me a smile filled with blue metal. "Thank you."

I plugged in the curling wand before shaking out her beautiful chocolate locks. At least she had a great head of hair to play with.
It was rare for me to be on the floor unless we were short-staffed. But then Yvonne approached me this morning while I was opening the salon and asked how I got my hair to look all "beachy" and stay that way. I decided to do my yearly good deed by giving the hapless teenager a free tutorial. 
It was also an excellent way to distract myself from my meddling employees. Since things with Brian ended, they were relentless in hounding me for details.

What happened? How did it end? Where does he live? We ride at dawn.

Telling them it was none of their business didn't seem to do anything. Sometimes, I missed the days when they were intimidated by me.

I smoothed Yvonne's hair between my forefinger and middle finger before observing her ends. "Hmm," I hummed. "Can I give you a tiny trim to get rid of these dead ends?"

Her eyes lit up, and her head bobbed enthusiastically. "Sure."

I gave her what I hoped was a comforting smile before grabbing a brush, comb and shears.

"I love your skirt," Yvonne murmured, staring wistfully at my long legs. 

Yvonne was a pretty girl. She still had that rounded face of someone who hadn't quite shed that adorable puppy plumpness that became the bane of some teenage girls' existence. I could also tell she hid her body away with baggy shirts and jeans. I wanted to tell her that this awkward phase would end and she'd blossom. It happened to me. Granted, I was thirteen when I developed tits and legs that boys drooled over. That was when Lissa entered my life, and my popularity soared. 

But I knew telling Yvonne that was a waste of time. When you're living in the moment, you scarcely think of the future. Your whole life is high school, cute boys, acne, and dances. Or for me: how to make a dollar stretch so I could have lunch and dinner, the best spots to steal a free shower when the water was turned off, and how to avoid being felt up by mom's latest boyfriend.
Was it a bit jaded of me? Probably. But I was more of a "push them off a branch to see if they'll fly" kind of nurturer. She'll figure it out.

"Everyone needs a good mini skirt, don't ya think." I winked at her. "This one in red would look fab on you." Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink, and she sat up straighter in her chair.

I started applying a heat protection spray before combing out the strands again.

I caught myself in one of our floor-length mirrors and gave myself a satisfied smile. I was wearing an asymmetrical black denim mini-skirt. It cost me a pretty penny and was definitely a post-break-up purchase, but it made me feel like...me. Truth was, I loved my long hair, my sexy skirts, and dresses. I loved low-cut tops that fitted my form and showcased the only thing I was thankful for inheriting from my mom. I realized I didn't wear them to attract men; I wore them because they made me feel good. Sexy. 

I thought if I wore more conservative numbers, then I would attract the "right guy." As Dr Anna imparted, it wasn't my outward appearance I needed to change. In fact, changing any faucet of personality that was neither toxic to myself nor others would still attract the kind of men that weren't right for me. Hiding my true self in the long run, essentially being untruthful to a potential partner, would lead to more strife.

"You understand the red flags and triggers, yet the issue is correcting the belief that you're not good enough for the kind of love you deserve," Dr Anna advised. "Yes, you need to form healthier connections, but the most important thing is to develop a healthier relationship with yourself. It's not a bad thing to want love, to be loved. Finding a loving and caring partner is a beautiful thing. But why do you need one? Why is it so important to you? Are you in the right mental state to willingly be in a healthy relationship for yourself and your future partner?"

It made sense now why Dr Anna insisted on digging up my childhood so hard. I knew a good chunk of the answer lay in my mom's negligence and unhealthy habits with men. My childhood was unstable, so I was constantly seeking an anchor. Someone who would love and care for me, but most importantly, never leave me. I needed it so badly that I ended up with men who were never emotionally available to me.

God, I wished I had tried therapy sooner. But you don't know you need help until you hit rock bottom. I had thought that line for me was Logan. But Brian - the guy I thought genuinely liked me for me - was the one to thank for propelling me into seeking help.

It had been a little over three weeks since I ended things with Brian. Not that there was much to end. We barely dated. So why I felt like I had lost someone vital to me after such an insignificant amount of time was a mystery to me. I made a note to bring it up with Dr Anna at some point.

The girls were devastated for me. I kept the details to myself; however, that didn't stop them from volunteering to sew a voodoo doll of him. It warmed my heart that they didn't automatically assume I had been in the wrong. I had a feeling that even if I were, they would still go to bat for me.

I put on a brave face with them, but the truth was, I was devastated, too. I honestly thought Brian and I could've had something extraordinary. I didn't hate him or lay blame on him. I guess I was grateful that he was upfront with me before anything sexual developed between us and any real feelings on my end started.

And maybe if you keep telling yourself that it'll be true.

I shook my head and picked up the curling iron.

No. 

No more thinking of Brian. No more men. 

Period.

"Okay," I smiled brightly at Yvonne's eager face. "You ready to learn?"