CHAPTER 9
“You have to laugh at yourself, because if you didn't, you'd cry your eyes out.” Emily Dickinson
Elizabeth rolled over to check the time. If it hadn’t been for the fan blowing her hair in her face, she would still be happily dreaming. Elizabeth closed her eyes again, reached for her teddy bear and rolled away from the window. She was almost asleep when she heard knocking on her bedroom door.
“Beth,” she heard her mother call. “Open this door immediately. You know you’re not allowed to lock it.”
Elizabeth opened the door with droopy, tired eyes. “You never said I couldn’t lock my door. I’ve been locking it for years.”
“Well, the rules are changing around here. Take off your clothes.”
“That’s ridiculous!” said Elizabeth frustrated. “You just searched me last night. I haven’t done anything else. I promise.”
“This doesn’t bring me pleasure, Beth. Take it off.”
“My name is Elizabeth,” she said frustrated. She pulled her tank top over her head and her rainbow colored pajama pants down around her ankles. Her mom walked around her touching every scar on her body. Leighton even tugged on the bandage on her arm to make sure Elizabeth hadn’t cut again and then recovered it. Her
body inspections were beyond humiliating. Elizabeth looked down, noticing that her pants were covering her ankles and feet. Her mom would never notice if she cut herself there.
“I named you. I can call you whatever I want. There are going to be some rule changes. Get dressed and come downstairs for breakfast. We are having a family meeting to end all this.”
Elizabeth stomped down the stairs and took her seat at the kitchen table. “Here’s some pancakes, Elizabeth,” Robert Bennett said as he handed his daughter a plate with four pancakes on it. “They’re banana, your favorite.”
“Thank you,” she said forcing a smile. Her father hadn’t made her banana pancakes since she was about six years old.
“Mom wants us in the family room so we can watch Colby,” said Olivia half smiling. Elizabeth couldn’t tell if she was being cocky or sincere. She grabbed her plate of pancakes and glass of milk, walked into the family room and took a seat on the black leather couch.
“So, we had a long talk with the Psychiatrist that examined you the other day,” started her mother. Leighton gently wrapped her long brown hair behind her ears, revealing her two carat diamond earrings. She had the most beautiful jewelry. “I listened to everything he said, although, it’s not something I want to believe. He said that the teenage years are critical in a child's life and it’s also when children can develop a rebellious behavior especially when their needs are not met and they lack the necessary support and understanding from their parents. I refuse to let you blame your father and me for your behavior. We obviously raised one daughter that turned out just fine.”
“Elizabeth, we know you’re a good kid,” Robert said with sadness. Elizabeth could tell this was hard on him. “A rebel is not what we want you to become. We don’t want you to continue this habit of hurting yourself. Teenage cutting is more of a common problem than we ever realized or knew about. But while this may be true, you endangered your life on Thursday and we are not going to sit back and do nothing about it.”
“Beth, you suffer from a delusional case of deliberate harm syndrome.”
“Why is it delusional, mom?” she questioned angrily.
“Because you’re under the delusion that it actually helps you when it doesn’t.” Leighton was already yelling.
“Leighton, please don’t criticize,” her dad pleaded. “Honey, you’re a cutter. The term is general. It refers to teenagers, children or adults who cut or hurt themselves in various ways. Have you ever burned yourself or pulled your hair or hit yourself or your head?”
“No,” she lied thinking back to her Lladro. That was the first time the pain didn’t result to relief. She had learned through the years it was better to remain quiet during family meetings.
Robert started speaking again. “It leads to more severe things like breaking bones or anything more permanent that causes more and more pain. You think it’s under control now but the addiction only grows. Eventually, the minor cuts won’t help you anymore and it will get more extreme.”
Then, Leighton continued. “Beth, it’s an addiction that starts with minor cuts that can heal quickly to deep wounds that can leave permanent scars, and it is deliberate self-harm syndrome. We know you feel ashamed and guilty about what you’re doing. You may think that you have your reasons for doing this like it makes you feel more alive or that have no sense of control in your life or it's a result of the stress and anxiety that you’re experiencing. But, let me tell you, you are not going to put this on me. This is your problem, not mine.”
“I know it’s my problem,” said Elizabeth feeling defeated. “That’s just it, it’s my problem. And, it’s really not a problem. I just had an accident on Thursday. It won’t happen again.”
“Damn straight it won’t,” her mother said sternly. “No more locking your bedroom door. No more hiding in your room unless you’re doing homework. There’s going to be random body searches, family dinners every night, and, you are going to tell us every detail about your life. You better get used to living in a prison.”
“Fine,” she agreed because she didn’t want to argue. This new arrangement wouldn’t last very long, Elizabeth was sure of it. Self-injury releases tension, both physiological and psychological, very quickly. It can turn a state of overwhelm into a state of relative calm almost immediately, reducing panic to simply feeling bad. Elizabeth had no intention of stopping. She would figure a way. She glanced over at Olivia and wondered what she was thinking about all of this.
The doorbell rang and Leighton got up to answer the door. “Elizabeth.” Elizabeth looked at her sister and father for permission to leave the family room.
“I think we’re done for now,” Robert said.
Jack Bennett was waiting on the front porch sitting on the railing when Elizabeth walked outside. “Two days in a row?” she asked confused but happy.
“Nothing’s changed,” he smiled. “I’m still grounded and you’re still dressed like Rainbow Brite.”
“I just got up,” she defended feeling slightly embarrassed. “Why are you dressed and normal so early?”
“Football practice.”
“Oh yeah,” she sighed. “I forgot about that. What are you doing over here?”
“UNC is playing FSU at 3:30.” Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders. “Wow. You really know nothing about sports. Okay, umm, the University of North Carolina is playing Florida State at 3:30 today. It’s football Saturday.”
“So…you’re watching the game?”
Jack laughed. “I watch every Saturday. Don’t you ever watch football?” She shook her head. “So, does your grounding mean you have to stay in the house all the time or can you come outside?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve never been grounded before. I guess I could ask my…”
“In the thirteen years we’ve lived in this house, that black boy has never come over here, not once,” Elizabeth and Jack could hear her mom through the open window. Elizabeth was so humiliated she could hardly breathe. She wasn’t a racist. Neither was her family.
“Jack…I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say. I’ve never heard her say anything like that before, ever.”
“Look, when you’re not white, you just grow up with a different set of expectations. It’s really okay. She’s not the first woman to think that and she won’t be the last either.”
“Jack,” Elizabeth grabbed his arm. “I don’t look at the world in black versus white. I look at people as people. I don’t care about the color of anyone’s skin. I care about what’s on the inside.”
“That’s good,” he smiled. “But, I know not e
veryone is capable of that. Don’t change, okay? You’re special.”
Elizabeth blushed. It was the first time he complimented her. “I’m sure my parents are going out with Olivia tonight, again. And, I’m also sure they’re not going to let me watch Colby, so no, I’m not confined to my house.”
“Good, I’ll meet you outside at eight then.” Jack started walking back to his house.
“Wait,” Elizabeth called after him. “What happens at eight?”
Jack smiled. “It’s dark.”