Imperfection

Chapter 1

I look down at the expanse below my feet. Usually, if it wasn't night time, there would be kids laughing as they chased each other around the playground and dogs barking at each other while their owners' hands turned red from the tugging of the leash.

I had never been this high up before. Part of me wanted to be scared. What if I fall? What if someone comes up behind me and pushes me. It made me want to think back to everyone I had ever done wrong in my life. Even the girl whose crayon I stole in the third grade. But, the other part of me fights off those thoughts because I know that I'm safe when he's next to me.

Almost as if he knows that he just crossed my mind, he looks at me. His eyes make my skin warm. He stares at me like he knows all of my deepest, darkest secrets. I turn toward him but I try not to look him in the eye in fear that maybe my eyes will give it all away.

We don't say anything for a while. He just sits and stares like he's reading his favorite novel and falling in love with every character and I continue to stare at my hands afraid that he's about to get to the chapter about my backstory. I know when that happens, the book will be over and I will sit on a shelf; forgotten.

A tear tries to escape my eye as I relive the past few years in my mind. I put every muscle in my body in charge of making sure it stays hidden. When it becomes too hard I attempt to turn away, but he grabs my face and brings it inches away from his own.

"I don't know what kind of demons you're trying to hide, but you don't have to keep anything from me."

His response snatched me up in its arms, taking my breath away. It gripped me tight and wouldn't let me go. With anyone else, I would be scared as it strangles me and takes all the air out of my lungs. But, with him it felt oddly comforting. Comforting enough that It made me want to spill my guts and tell him everything. Every event, every little detail, till my Pandora's box is completely empty and I can finally be free.

I start to part my lips in hopes that the words will break out, but instead I'm stopped by the feel of his lips on mine. The feeling is captivating. Making every nerve in my body become hypnotized in a trance-like state. It makes me forget that we're at the edge of the rooftop of some diner right across from where his little trailer is parked. That one wrong move could make me the next chalk outline in this town, but I didn't care. I thought this moment was going to last a lifetime, I had hoped that it would, but before I knew it–

"CUT!"

And just like that the veil falls down and reality is uncovered. Instead of being on the top of a diner rooftop with the mysterious boy from the wrong side of the tracks, I was on a set, sitting on a prop, surrounded by a bunch of people staring at me in awe. I was no longer Susan Cookman, the quiet girl with the darkest of secrets, I was Aaliyah Summers again, the perfect girl with the perfect life.

I hop off the prop diner, aware that everyone in the crew was staring at me after that jaw dropping performance, and try to keep my head low as possible as I make my way to my dressing room.

Believe it or not, I hate all the attention. I didn’t want to become an actress for fame. I solely got into this profession because of my dad. I have been acting for as long as I can remember, starting off with diaper commercials, then voice acting for children's movies, moving up to teen dramas and finally making it to where I am now doing anything you could possibly imagine. Don’t get me wrong, I like acting. I like getting into the character, feeling all of their emotions, living throughout their day, just being anybody but Aaliyah Summers for a little while.

As I make it to my dressing room, I sit in my leather rolling chair in front of my gigantic vanity and let my make-up team strip away Susan Cookman piece by piece until she is nothing more than a character in a manuscript again. After they're done, I dismiss them for the day and stare at myself in the mirror. Maybe it’s because of all the roles that I’ve played in my lifetime, but I had no clue who the girl staring back at me was. She was lean with long, straight black hair and flawless melanated skin. When I was a child people used to tell me, all the time, that I looked exactly like my mother, but I didn’t see that anymore. Just a warped version of her… who she used to be.

I get up from my chair, push it in and start to collect my things, when I hear a stern knock behind me.

“Aaliyah, please don’t tell me that you’re in street clothes.” I would know that parrot-like voice from anywhere. It was Melissa, my agent.

“Yes, Melissa, we’ve had this talk a million times before. When I’m off the clock I can wear whatever I want.”

“Well, first of all sweetheart you’re a superstar, you are NEVER off the clock. Secondly, did you forget about your tv appearance on the Jerry Lawrence show tonight?!” I stopped in my tracks, I had forgotten and this wasn’t the first time that I had pulled a stunt like this. On top of that, I had just sent all my stylist home.

Looking at the stunned expression that was plastered all over my face, Melissa rolls her eyes at me and tells me to be in the car in five minutes. I can feel my palms start to tingle and grow moist. My heart starts to beat a little faster and I wonder if it’s beating so fast it’s distracting the air from being about to function properly, because it is starting to get harder to breathe. A feeling of dizziness washes over me and I falter a little to the right, catching myself on the back of my chair. I try to focus on something in the room in order to collect myself, but everything in the room seemed to be moving. I clench my chest as it starts to scream out in agony and at that moment I was so sure that I was about to have a heart attack.

I pull my chair out from under my vanity table and take a seat. I wonder how many minutes I have left until Melissa comes down here, enraged, and catches my little meltdown. That wouldn’t be good for business, perfect people do not have panic attacks. In order to pull myself out of it as quickly as possible, I do the one thing that I know will make my heart feel good again… I think about my mother.

My mother died when I was ten years old. I start to remember her special smell and the way that she would hold me whenever my dad was angry at me for not getting a certain role he made me audition for. I think about looking into her eyes and knowing that I was safe there, that nothing could touch me. I could never do that with anyone else unless it was in a script, of course.

Without even realizing that I had closed them, I opened my eyes back up and looked around. The room was back to normal, along with the beating of my heart. I wiped my hands on my jeans, took out my phone and dialed the number of the one stylist I knew would drop everything for me and meet me at the Jerry Lawrence set and then I made my way to Melissa.

The car ride was a silent one. Melissa and I sat in the back, her same pinched expression showcasing on her face. In all the years that she has been my manager, I had never seen it falter. When I was a teenager I used to think how pretty she would be if she softened every now and then, maybe releasing her hair from the shackles of that tight bun that always rests in the back of her head. I could picture her long blonde strands caressing her thin shoulders and her blue eyes sparkling with the upturn of her grin. It made me wonder why she decided to be an agent and not a model.

Melissa hopped out of the car as soon as we arrived at the studio. I rolled my eyes as I did the same. I didn’t want her cold-heartedness to cause another panic attack, so I tried to let it roll off my back. When I stepped inside, a woman who was only up to my shoulders, greeted me and showed me to my dressing room. I wasn’t surprised when I saw Jerrika there, already completely set up and waiting for me. She greeted me with a warm smile.

“Girl, sit down and let me work my magic on this mess.” I couldn’t help but laugh. If I had to consider anyone my best friend, it was Jerrika. She was this spunky black girl, who was so unapologetically her, that you couldn’t help but be entranced. I’ve had her as my main stylist since we were kids. I saw her work on social media one day and begged my dad, on my hands and knees, to let her be a part of my team.

After she had finished, Jerrika turned my chair towards the mirror to let me get a better look at myself. I looked absolutely stunning. I felt as if I was getting ready for another role. My name was Aurora Quinn. I was a 25 year old actress, same as my normal self, but the difference between Aurora and Aaliyah was that Aurora is confident. Aurora doesn’t just step into a room, she owns it. I could feel my body radiate as Aurora’s energy fills it up. I felt as if I could conquer anything.

When I saw the same short girl that had welcomed me earlier waiting for me at the door, I boldly busted out of my seat and strolled alongside her. I could feel her fall in line with my confident footsteps. Heads turned as I walked down the long hallway to where the Jerry Lawrence set was. My positive energy engulfed the room, making everyone’s once straight face turn upright. I almost thought I noticed the then dim lights grow a little brighter.

As I reached the set, I closed my eyes and took one last deep breath. I let the rest of Aurora’s energy infiltrate my body, holding Aaliyah hostage until the scene was over. Hearing Jerry Lawrence call my name out to the audience, I reopened my eyes and walked out onto the stage.

The ride home was a short one. Not because I lived close to the studio, or because I was too busy jamming to music to keep an eye on the time, but because I couldn’t even remember half of the ride. The last memory that popped up in my mind was of walking on to the Jerry Lawrence set. After that, everything goes white and I can only see silhouettes of the memory, almost as if it was someone else's memory that I was trying to recall.

I carefully step out of the black Escalade as we park in my brick driveway. I start to walk up the walkway, making sure to wave a goodbye to my driver and guards before opening the door.

A wave of disappointment washes over me as I notice the same entry way before me, with the same oval mirror ahead, above the same key rack that hosts a variety of keys for cars that me and my husband don’t use enough for the amount of money that they cost. I walk up the same plushy steps, turning left down my same long hallway and push open the white wooden door to my bedroom.

I walked into an unoccupied room, looking at the spot, in the bed furthest away from the door where my husband’s body is usually lying fast asleep, I noticed that he is not there. Any normal wife would have been worried. They would have picked up the phone, dialed their husband's number and called to make sure that he wasn’t lying face first in a ditch somewhere. Some wives even care enough to keep their husbands' location handy, but not me. Instead, I walked over to my closest and began to undress and put on more comfy clothes.

As I sluggishly walked back to my bed, ready to get a good nights’ sleep before I had to go back on set early the next morning, I heard a loud crash from downstairs. Worried, yet intrigued I cautiously made my way to the kitchen, making sure to grab my husband's bat before entering. I soon realized that the bat was not needed. As I arrived at the kitchen door frame, I saw my husband. A couple of pots and pans rested at his feet and a long blond haired girl’s lips rested in his hands. They were going at it like wild animals that had been starved for days.

I don’t know what had happened to me, but the only thing that I could do was stand there and watch. My voice was nowhere to be found, hiding behind my fear. I thought that they were never going to notice me, not until my hand (with a mind of its own) released the bat from my grasp. With a loud BANG, the bat crashes into the wooden floorboards and causes my husband and the girl to jump and look in my direction.

When they both notice the culprit of the loud crash, they get wide eyed. The girl gasps and puts both of her hands over her mouth in surprise.

“Oh my gosh, Mrs. Summers, I am so sorry.” She looked no older than 16 or 17. I didn’t want to think that of my husband, so I assumed that she was 18 and pushed the thought out of my mind.

“Just get out.” Ben says in a harsh, slurred voice. I look over at him, prepared to see his eyes squinting at me in anger, but instead they were planted on the blond girl. She must have thought that those words were going to come out of my mouth, because the quake of his voice made her shake in surprise.

Still in very little clothes, she immediately rushed past me and out the front door.

Still in a state of shock, I turn around (with no words said) and head up stairs. I probably should have been more mad. Any normal person would have picked that bat off the ground and beat him with it until there was nothing left but the regret for what he did. But, I would be lying if I said that this was the first time. I can’t even recall the amount of times we have been at a club and I’ve had to pull my drunken husband's lips off those of some random girl before the paparazzi plastered the moment all over the next morning's tabloids. If I were to be a hundred percent honest, I wasn't mad. The only part that truly hurt, was that none of those girls looked even remotely like I did.

From the top of the stairs, my husband followed behind me, having to catch himself with every step. I don’t stay to watch his struggle with the stairs, but instead I walk into the bathroom and look directly at myself in the mirror.

I hated this woman. She was the type of woman that doesn’t know how to say no. She was the type of woman who hates her life and yet stays and bathes in all this misery and she was the type of woman that just let her husband cheat on her time and time again.

A loud bang from the door hitting the wall let me know that Ben had reached the bedroom and was looking for me.

“Get out here woman!” My hands started to clam up again, just as they had earlier. I could feel my heart start to thump against my ribs so fast that I was afraid one would crack.

I could hear him reach the bathroom door. I didn’t turn around. I could feel my body stiffen and freeze as it had earlier. His loud footsteps started up again for what sounded like five seconds and then they stopped right beside me.

I could feel his hot breath on my neck and the smell of booze strangled my nose. I winced as I felt his cold hand on my thigh. A tear crept out of my eye and all I could do was fixate on myself as he slowly moved his hand up. I looked at my scared eyes and the tenseness of my body. “This was my husband." I thought. "I should just let this happen.” But, as he placed his hand down my pants and in between my thighs, I turned toward him. It was almost as if a little piece of Aurora was still somewhere inside of me and had taken over.

I moved away from him swiftly and gave him a big shove, almost knocking him to the ground. I could see the shock in his face as he regained his balance. That shock soon turned to pure rage and I knew in that moment that I had f****d up. I could see his once light brown eyes turn completely black.

I dug my nails into the palms of my hands, closed my eyes, released the breath that I didn’t even know I was holding in and prepared for what was about to come next.