Ellen, Part 2

Ellen stood and swung her bag over a shoulder, rushing from the office. Once she was half-way across the school, Ellen burst inexplicably into tears. Something swelled in her chest and her brain raced to find a cause, stumbling in the tangles of her self-loathing. Her legs collapsed from under her and she found herself caught in the arms of Dev, Jeremy’s friend.

Dev had bronzed skin and was remarkably tall; basketball was as natural for him as breathing. He was a gangly small-town boy, relatively new to the suburban school.

“You don’t look too good, Ellen,” Dev said. “You want to go to the nurse?”

She shook her head. “No. It’ll pass.”

“Aren’t you concerned about a repeat?”

Again her head shook. “I’m dying anyway, Dev. You know it; you were there when I got the first results.”

“So it didn’t change?” he asked gently.

“We both knew it wasn’t going to change,” she cried angrily.

Dev helped her to a nearby bench. “What’s wrong?”

“My life is over, Dev!” she choked. “Everything I had, everything I was…it’s all just falling away…I can’t handle this and keeping it together. I spend all day thinking about it. About what would have happened if I had said no that night. Or if I had never gone for the test. Or if I had just taken the flu and gone on with my life…nothing would have changed.”

Dev hugged her firmly. “Ellen, nothing has to change. Your obsession is depriving you of everything you had. Not your condition.”

She pulled away from him. “That’s not true!” Her face burned from tears and anger.

“It is,” he said. “You think about everything that went wrong and led up to this, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re still here, and you still have a life to live.”

At first, all she could do was stare at him, her emotions evaporating as his words sank in. Then traitorous thoughts appeared, convincing her he was right. Why should she allow everything she had worked so arduously for slide from her grasp? It was hers already; why was she letting it go?

She collapsed into tears, slumping against Dev and welcoming his comforting embrace.

“Let it all go. Forget about Jeremy; forget about dying; come to terms with it and your emotions. Once you do, you’re golden.”

Ellen cried for what seemed to be the better part of an hour. The anger, fear, and pain of the past several months seemed to wash away from her. The tangles of doubt and self-hate started to unravel. As she cried, the journal slipped from her hands, landing softly at their feet.

When she quieted, Dev handed her a handkerchief from his back pocket. Smiling, he said, “I thought you might need one.”

“Why? Why help me?”

“I figured someone needed to remind the genius that everyone is dying. From the moment we’re born, the one destination we all have in common is the grave. That doesn’t stop any of the rest of us. Live life to the fullest and all that jazz. Remember? It was in your speech for presidency.”

“Yeah,” she admitted, smiling a little. “I remember.”

“Even though you’ve got HIV, with treatment you can live almost as full a life as you would have had.”

“Not really—”

“I said almost;” he smirked, brushing her chin with a knuckle. “Don’t smart me, I know what I’m talking about. I did my research…just so I could reassure you.”

“Really?” She hadn’t realized Dev cared that much; yet, here he was, dragging her screaming and crying from the depths of her funk.

“The point is,” he said, “there is no reason you shouldn’t keep being who you have been.”

She smiled warmly at him, feeling a glimmer of her old herself. “Thank you,” she said, squeezing his hand. Ellen picked up her journal. “There’s something I have to do.”

~*~

“I thought you didn’t want me to see this,” Mrs. Hardylen said, both eyebrows raised at the notebook being offered to her. “Change your mind already? It’s only been an hour or so.”

“Changes come quickly,” Ellen said. “It doesn’t matter if you see this or not. I’m going to be okay.”

Ellen, Part 1

Ellen stared at the mirror, pondering how it was possible someone else’s reflection could completely replace her own. The person staring back at her wasn’t the star student destined to be valedictorian, nor the class president, head of four clubs, and member of ten more. The person holding her gaze so gallingly steady was an HIV ridden horror, the disease practically crawling under her skin, draining the life from her eyes and the color from her limbs. But the answer she desperately avoided was that this wasn’t a different person.

It was her.

She didn’t have anything against people with HIV or AIDS. They were regular people, just with a shorter expiration date. When she had initially learned of her own contraction three months prior, her world had changed. She had thought, surely, the six-month result would be different. When it wasn’t, she felt as broken as when Jeremy had looked at her and knowingly shared his cursed disease.

Jeremy hadn’t contacted her since he had betrayed her trust, but she hadn’t been keen on tracking him down either. She hadn’t been keen on facing anyone, lately. Life didn’t seem like it could continue the way it had. Once you were doomed, what was the point in pretending nothing had changed?

“Ellen, sweet,” her mother called from the doorway, smartly dressed in a heather gray suit and her bob tucked perfectly behind her ears. “Unless you want to attend school in your nightgown, I suggest you change.”

Ellen stared a moment longer at the sickly image before turning to her mother. “What’s the point? In a few years, it won’t even matter.”

“Fifteen years is not a few. And even if it won’t matter then, I am not supporting you unless you attend and finish college.”

“Dad would support me.”

She scoffed. “Your father only supports us because the court requires it.”

“Maybe he’s changed,” Ellen said softly.

“People don’t just change over night, sweet.”

“I did.”

Her mother opened her mouth a couple of times as if to say something, but ultimately bit her lip and looked down the hall. Ellen turned back to the mirror, contemplating the day ahead. “I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes, mother,” she said, turning her face from the deceptive device before her, forcing a smile.

“I’ll have your breakfast ready then.”

As she disappeared, Ellen gazed a while into the horrible lie of a reflection. She could no longer stand the notion of what had become of her because she had thought Jeremy loved her.

“Stop lying to me!” she screeched. Ellen stormed across the room, grabbing a bottle of perfume from her dresser and throwing it at the mirror; both shattered in an excellent explosion of glass.

~*~

Her mother had informed the school counselor of the morning’s incident. She didn’t, as agreed, mention HIV. It was a custom within the family not to discuss unpleasant details that were no one else’s business and would eventually fade from everyone’s memory. Ellen’s case had nearly led to a divergence of practice as her mother wanted the school to know in case of emergencies; Ellen had convinced her to treat it as anything else.

That is how she found herself sinking into the overly soft couch in Mrs. Hardylen’s office.

Her counselor swiveled in the cushy chair to face her, smiling brightly as though the world could forget its worries so long as she believed the sun was shining.

“Your mother tells me you had an episode this morning,” she began. “She also tells me that you’ve been suffering bouts of depression lately and aren’t comfortable confiding in her.” Ellen sat stoically, staring through the cheery woman before her to her terribly malevolent imaginings. “She wanted me to talk to you about it. Are you feeling all right?”

“Yes.”

“Your teachers have noticed a difference in the last few months as well, Ellen. I’ve received messages about your slipping grades, lack of participation, and growing tendency to daydream in class,” Mrs. Hardylen said, genuine worry lacing her voice and causing a deep crease to appear between her brows. “Are you sure you don’t have something you wish to discuss?”

“I’m sure,” Ellen tartly said. She hated being treated like a child; if people could even begin to understand, she would gladly share. But that wasn’t the case.

“A few of your teachers also noticed you scribbling away sometimes in a journal…is that it?”

She clutched the pale blue hardback to her chest, wanting to protect her thoughts from prying, unworthy eyes. Her journal never questioned and understood everything. Within its covers she, the real Ellen, was safe. Every moment of doubt, anger, and overwhelming depression was carefully documented to relieve her from herself.

“May I go?”

“May I see the journal?” Mrs. Hardylen reached forth an open hand.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“You might be surprised,” she said, her hand still outstretched.

Ellen stared blankly back, her hands white and shaking with the ferocity of their grip. The journal was the last bit of herself she could hold onto and she didn’t want to relent it to anyone.

Mrs. Hardylen’s hand fell gently back onto her lap as she leaned back. “I guess that will be all for today.”