Beautiful Mess by Claire Christian

Author:Claire Christian
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Text Publishing Company
Published: 2017-07-28T04:00:00+00:00

Gideon’s bedroom is like something out of an Ikea catalogue, all neat and sleek. It doesn’t look like anyone actually lives in it, let alone a teenage boy. It even smells nice. There’s a double bed that’s been made, a desk with squared piles of books and papers. Above the desk is a pin-board with a couple of photos stuck to it; I recognise a few people from Day in the Park.

There’s a cupboard with one black and white poster on it; there’s a picture of a man with a huge afro and his name, Gil Scott-Heron, written underneath in big white letters. I’ve never heard of him. There’s a small table that has a record player on it surrounded by square plastic crates of records. Everything has a place. Even me.

I haven’t moved from the same spot on the bed for hours as we’ve talked and listened to music. I couldn’t bear to go home after watching Gideon perform. I had to know more.

He rolls up his sleeves and holds out his arms. Once my eyes adjust to what I’m looking at I can’t help it and I take a quick, sharp breath in and lift my hand to my mouth. His arms are covered in thin scars. Ordered and symmetrical, they run up in line with his veins; they’re all different lengths.

‘How old were you?’ I can’t help it, I grab his right arm and he kind of flinches but he lets me touch them all the same. There’s very little space that the scars don’t cover. There are no new cuts, just all these raised white lines like soldiers standing to attention.

‘Um, five years ago it started.’ Gideon pulls down his sleeve.

I don’t move, I’m so confused. I know he said he’d had some stuff happen but I didn’t realise how bad it was for him. ‘How?’ I ask.

‘I’d do things like “accidentally” break a glass in the kitchen, and then I’d keep shards in my pocket when I cleaned it up.’

‘Did your parents know?’

‘Not for ages.’

‘Cause one of your mums? The poem. Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’ He smiles. ‘We went on a holiday. To the Barrier Reef. Lots of snorkelling and that. In the middle of summer. I refused. Just sat. Long sleeves. And yeah, Mum, Susan, walked in on me in the bathroom.’

‘Doing it? Cutting?’

‘No. But I’d just got out of the shower. She saw my arms. I think she suspected when I wouldn’t take my jumper off the whole trip.’

‘You think she did it on purpose?’

‘She said it was an accident—’

I cut him off. ‘But the only accident is that it didn’t happen sooner.’ I repeat the line from the poem. I don’t know how I remembered it, I think I was so enamoured that it locked in my brain.

‘Groupie,’ Gideon laughs.

‘Show me?’ I ask and he exhales loudly and rolls up his sleeves again. ‘Oh. Gideon,’ I sigh. They look so painful.

‘Yeah,’ he says. He doesn’t look at his arms, just at me, looking at his arms.

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