The b***h Book

Chapter 4: Desiree

From the desk of Desiree Pake:

I've forgotten how to smile. Once upon a time my smile was big. It could fill up a room. Once upon a time I had big dreams. Didn't I? Am I dreaming? I'll tell you about it.

There's a woman walking quietly through a deep forest. She can smell the trees, wet from a previous rain. You know she can smell it. You smell it, too. Her feet are bare. Tiny rocks dig deep into her skin while she walks. She walks. She walks.

Decay. She shivers out here in this dark wilderness. Just a scrappy T-shirt to cover her torso. Muddy shorts over her legs. She must have fallen.

There's a well. Wells are deep. She knows this. She thinks about the bottom of this well. Cold. Wet. Slick, perhaps? Is there anything in there other than a bit of water?

After thinking it over for a moment the woman removes her shirt. She steps out of the muddy shorts and examines herself in the moonlight. A scar on her knee. A bike? The way one of her little toes presses a little too closely to the one beside it.

Her hair is a tangled mess. It sticks to her lips and dances across the tips of her breasts. Out here in the darkness she concludes that her breasts are just ok. Why did she say they were the best? Or spectacular? Breasts are just sacks of fat. Everyone knows that.

Strong shoulders. Strong arms. She drapes a leg over the lip of the well. Down at the bottom her face looks up. There's that woman. There's Desiree. She waves her arm. The well woman waves back at her.

"I'm you," Desiree calls down to the woman in the well.

The face gazing up at her stays steady. Aside from tiny ripples on the water, there's nothing. She cups her hand around her mouth. Maybe louder is the ticket.

"I'm you. Can you see me? See me?"

No answer. None was expected. Time to fall. She pitches herself down into the blackness. Fingernails scrape down the slick rocks. Her elbow catches something sharp on the way down.

When her feet hit the water a delicious cold spreads over them. She's under now. Swimming around in this well. Down here nobody can see you. Nobody watches. Nobody hears your screaming. Eyes wide open. Lungs bursting. She kicks. She twirls. Under the water she's a ballet dancer. A goddess.

911 operator: "Hello? Are you there? Please state your emergency."

Desiree: "I can't."

911 operator: "Ma'am, are you ok? State your emergency. Do you need help?"

Desiree. "No. No, I'm ok. I dialed a wrong number. I'm sorry."

The well is gone. I see me kneeling on the floor in my bathroom, holding a bloody rag. Crying into it. How did I cut my foot this time? What's happening to me? Dirt on my toes. Soil. I can smell rain. My hair is damp. My whole body feels hot and cold.

There I am holding my mom. Why is she crying? Can you hear me, mom? It's gonna be ok. I love you.

I'm a ballerina. I twist. Flip. Swirl. My legs trail beneath me as I churn up the dirty water. I'm so elegant down here. No klutz. No slip. No break. I'm amazing. I'm amazed. Desiree Pake, you're my hero. Will you go to the prom with me? I love you. Love, love, love you.

I miss you, Chad. I REALLY DO.