Monday, 9/7/10 - Face Value

"Ashe? Talk to me, please." Ryan hears her crying on the other side of the door. "Just tell me you're alright. OK?" She doesn't answer. "Ashe, I'm scared. I don't know what to do."

He's been outside this door listening to her crying for over an hour. He tried calmly asking her what was wrong. He tried joking with her. He tried yelling at her. He threatened to break the door down and to call the cops. Nothing worked.

It would be easier if he knew what was wrong. If she would just tell him something, anything, then at least he would have the chance.

He takes out his phone and texts her: I LV U.

The crying on the other side of the door becomes a broken sobbing punctuated with hiccupy breaths and moans.

His phone vibrates her response: U CANT.

His fingers take no time on the keys: I DO LV U.

There is motion now just inside the door. "Ry, I'm a freak."

"Then you are my freak. Please open the door."

He hears the lock turning and waits while she slowly pulls the door open. Even with her eyes red and puffy from crying, he still thinks she's beautiful.

He is relieved that she has opened the door but he is still not sure what is going on. He wants to take her in his arms and tell her not to worry. He wants to tell her not to be afraid. He wants to tell her that he will take care of her and protect her from whatever is bothering her.

He wants to do these things but he is afraid so he says the only safe thing he can think of, "Thank you."

Ashley moves into his arms and melts there. "You can't love me, Ry. I am a freak." Her breath catches and the tears start again.

"Shhhhh, shhhhh, shhhh, it's OK." He rocks her gently. "Whatever you're thinking, you're wrong. You're not a freak. You're the most beautiful person I know."

"No, that's just it, I'm not beautiful."

"Yes, yes you are."

She pulls away from him. "Look!" She makes a fist and holds it up to her forehead. "From hairline to eyebrow, one fist." She moves her the fist down. "From eyebrow to the bottom of the nose, one fist." She moves it a third time. "From the bottom of the nose to the chin, one fist."

He is watching but not understanding.

"That is what Mrs. Woods said in art class. She said that faces are divided into thirds. Each one the size of your fist." She takes her fist and runs through the motions again. "See? My face doesn't look anything like that. My forehead is much larger and my chin much smaller."

"That can't be right, it can't apply to everyone or everyone would look the same. And besides, fists are different sizes. According to that theory people with big hands would all have long faces."

"But we all did it and everyone else's face had those proportions. I was the only one whose face was different."

"Maybe that's why I think you are more beautiful than everyone else, because you are different."

While she dabs at her eyes and blows her nose, Ryan relaxes on the couch. She lies down beside him and places her head on his lap.

Ryan rubs her gently and listens as her breathing evens out then slows.

While she sleeps he makes a fist and measures from his hairline...