Pretty Hurts Page 5
“You went really Timey Whimy with that,” he remarks, making me chuckle at the Doctor Who reference.
“Maybe, but I stand by what I said. Look, you and Abby took your time to enjoy yourselves as a married couple. You had adventures, and built your relationship foundation strong. It fortified you, made you ready to put eighteen plus years of hard work and sacrifice in. Kids are a blessing. But that doesn’t make them easy. You didn’t believe you were ready before, and I’d have to say you were probably right. Waiting until you felt mentally and monetarily prepared is a sign of intelligence and maturity. While yes, you two may be older, you’re also incredibly healthy and active. You’re going to be just fine.”
He drains the rest of his beer and turns to me with a thoughtful expression etched on his features. “Thank you for that.” A moment of silence passes between us and I take the time to finish my own drink.
“Now that you played shrink for me, are you going to tell me how your non date went?”
I chuckle. “It was a lot of fun. She’s a blast, man. We clowned our way through the movie and took cheesy photos. It was great. We even talked about getting together again.”
“Are you going to follow up with that?”
“I think I am. It was easy with her, you know? I’m not used to that after five years with Marilyn. I love her for the woman she was, but low-maintenance she was not. If nothing else, I’ll end up with a new friend to do things with.” It’s a falsehood. The second it leaves my lips, I want to take it back. The chemistry we generate will need to be addressed eventually. The vibe I’m getting isn’t just friends.
“Do you actually believe that? I’ve known you a long time. I know how you can be about women. You’re into this one.”
“I think we both know my picker isn’t the best,” I admit.
“No, you just hold on when you should let go,” he replies.
I sigh. “I thought when I asked Marilyn to marry me we’d be together forever.”
“And you might have been if she hadn’t changed her mind about wanting children. But to be fair, she was always on the fence about that.”
His words ring true. I knew when we first got involved she wasn’t sure if she wanted children or not. But I let her beauty, charm, and common interests blind me.
“It came out of nowhere. One minute we’re planning our wedding, and the next, she’s desperate to have a baby because her biological clock is ticking. I never understood the abrupt shift.”
“Maybe she’d been holding it in for a long time, so when it came out it was ramped up by months of silence?”
“Perhaps. I tried to reason with her. Told her we’d built a nice life together, and this was something I refused to budge on. If I said yes to please her, and then resented it later, our child would suffer. I’d never take that risk.”
“What did she say?”
“That she’d seen me with my nieces and nephews enough to know that would never happen. It was like she was grasping at straws. We went back and forth about it for months. I will never get that serious about a woman without putting a ring on her finger. The task of dividing everything was painful. I had to give her a lump sum to keep her from trying to lay claim to the house. You think you know someone until they show you how much you really don’t.”
“I knew it got ugly in the end. But I had no clue she was so ruthless.”
“Made me wonder if I ever knew her all. It was like a personality transplant.”
“Seems like you lucked out. Imagine if you had married her.”
A chill skitters its way up my spine. “I have. I spent the past year going over our entire relationship in my mind, trying to see if there were signs of impending doom that I ignored. It was a personal hell. I doubted myself in a way I hadn’t experienced since I was a teenager. I felt lost, angry, and pitiful. People went out of their way to tell me how sorry they were when all I wanted to do was forget. It was like I couldn’t escape her shadow.”
“Is that why you haven’t dated since?”
“Yes and no. I needed to regain my own balance and grieve. You can’t go from planning your wedding and your life together to breaking up and not feel it. I don’t care how macho men are supposed to be.”
“And now?”
“I’ve made my peace with what happened and the fact that I’ll probably never understand why she had a sudden change of heart. Maybe it was a biological clock ticking down, or perhaps that was a guise. If she wanted out, that was a surefire way to go about it.”
“You don’t think that’s why, do you?”
“It’s what made the most sense in the scheme of things.” It was a blow to my self-esteem, questioning her feelings for me. The first three months alone were the loneliest ones of my life. It felt like I’d lost a limb. The house was too quiet, and everything I did felt off. “You don’t realize how much a person occupies your life until they’re gone,” I say solemnly.
“Damn, brother, I’m sorry.”
“Water under the bridge now,” I reply, proud that I’ve worked myself to a point where I actually mean it.
His words make me realize how ready I am for Efia. I’ve never been one to play games, so I make a mental note to text her tomorrow to keep in contact. This is my final step toward leaving the past behind completely.
Chapter Four
Efia
I walk onto the set with my traveling kit rolling behind me. I love when I get a chance to give back with my work. Today I’m volunteering my services to a foundation that deals with breast cancer. They gather survivors and arrange a day of glamor and photos to celebrate their triumph over the disease, and help them rediscover their beauty. Today, the shoot has even more meaning for me. I can understand better a small fraction of what they’re going through.
“Hey, Efia, thank you for coming out again to do this.” Jane, the organizer, gives me a hug. The slender brunette can’t be more than forty-five. A cancer survivor herself, she started Pink Love as a way to encourage and renew those who fought the same battle.
“It’s my pleasure, Jane. I’ve gotten so much knowledge and inspiration from the beautiful women we encounter here.”
Jane squeezes my hand. “We couldn’t do it without volunteers like you.”
“Will Karen be doing the photos today?” I ask.
“She will be. She actually ran to pick up some coffee for all of us after she finished setting up.”
“Excellent. I’ll just go to my corner and get my things ready to go.” I quickly find my spot, set up with a mirror, lights, and a table for me to set out all my makeup. I’d been given photos ahead of time to plan out my palettes. Karen has spoken with me about styling as well. It’s a full-fledged pampering session. Once my things are set up, I walk over to the table and help Jane set out the muffins, orange juice, and waters.
“I brought the java juice,” Karen says, coming in with two cartons from the donut shop. “Hey, Efia.”
“Hey, Karen, it’s good to see you again.”
We chit chat as we prepare a spread for the ladies. Soon they’re arriving and we greet them with applause, introductions, and attention. I’m on my fifth person of the day and as usual, I can hardly believe how fast time flies. Martina Rollings is a kick ass thirty-eight-year-old fighter. Dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans, and a pink tank top that shows off her amazing chest piece of butterflies, I can feel her vibrant energy. The crown of flowers she’s had permanently inked on her bald head is a beautiful piece of art I can’t help but admire.
“So you’re the woman who’s going to make me pretty.”
I laugh. “No, I’m just going to enhance what’s already there.”
“Well, do your best work. I’m a blank canvas,” she says.
I grin. Her heart-shaped face is littered with freckles that stand out against her peaches and cream skin. Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows are a pale red, and her cupid’s bow lips are curved into a wide grin.
“I love your tattoos,” I say.
“It suits you.”
“Thanks. These are the flowers my grandmother grew in her garden, so it’s very personal. She was one of the people who really kept me going when this all happened.”
“How many years have you been in remission?”
“Five. But it never gets easier. Each checkup you’re worried that it’ll be found. I went in for a routine mammogram, and they discovered I had stage two breast cancer. I was rushed to surgery two weeks later for a double mastectomy and began chemo. In the span of two months, I lost my breasts and my hair. In the beginning my only thought was survival. I was only thirty-one. I had my whole life ahead of me and two children to raise with my husband.”
“I can’t even imagine that. I’m sorry you had to go through it.” I finish her base with a light powder and move on to concealer. I blend it in as she continues her story. I’m amazed by her openness. Many of the people who come here want to share, but she’s going deep into her own perspective.
“Thank you. Afterward, I felt ravaged. I was weak and unrecognizable. It’s hard looking in the mirror and seeing a stranger. I had to struggle to come to terms with the new me, but in time, I did.”
As I apply her eye shadow and blush, I can’t help but think she’s talking to me.
“Breasts and hair are deemed incredibly important to femininity in nearly every culture known to man. You take away those two things, and you feel like you’ve lost your gender. Suddenly you’re this blank pallet you aren’t sure how to design.”
I understand her words all too well.
“It’s something you never realize, but it’s so true. Our culture is so focused on boobs and hair,” she says.
“Can I get you to open your eyes and look up? I’m going to apply some eyeliner and mascara. Then all you need is lips, and you’ll be done.” I say.
She glances up, and I carefully line her top and bottom lip with a brown lip pencil. “Perfect.” I apply mascara quickly and grab a light nude with a pop of shimmer. “And you’re done. Take a look at yourself in the mirror, doll.” I step back, and she takes a shaky breath.
“Oh my God. I can’t believe that’s even me.” She turns her head from the right to the left and fans her face. “Thank you for making me feel beautiful again.”
“Darling, you are beautiful, all I did was highlight a few of your stunning attributes.”
“Can I hug you?” she asks.
“Absolutely.”
She stands and I give her a gentle squeeze. “I can’t tell you how much I needed to have this conversation. Thank you for sharing your journey with me.”
She pulls away. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
She touches my scarf. “How long ago were you diagnosed? Are you in remission?”
“Six months, but it’s not cancer, it’s Alopecia. I’m still coming to terms with having no hair. It feels so stupid. I know it’s only hair, and this isn’t life threatening, so I should be grateful.” I feel so low whining about an autoimmune disease that attacks my follicles when she’s fought off cancerous cells.
“It’s not just hair when it was taken against your will. You’re allowed to grieve for it, but then you must move on. Don’t let it define you.”
“Thank you, Martina.”
She squeezes my hand and I send her over to Karen for her picture. As I gaze over at the women conversing and enjoying themselves, I’m inspired and rejuvenated. We move to taking group pictures, and lightning strikes.
“Can I make an announcement, here among friends?” I ask. All eyes turn to me and I swallow, hard. “Six months ago I was diagnosed with Alopecia. I’ve been hiding it ever since. Seeing all of you extraordinarily brave, strong women has moved me to come out of the closet. I would be honored if I could take my first public photo with no hair with all of you, so I always remember this day.”
The outpouring of acceptance and encouragement as they wave me over fills my heart, and kick starts my confidence into high gear. I remove my wrap and walk over to the garbage can, tossing it as I reclaim a bit of myself. The cheer that goes up in the room is nothing short of magical. I am surrounded by my sisters who have a woman’s magic. Suddenly I understand the gathering of woman around fires sharing recipes and herbal remedies in days long gone. I step up beside them and I’m reborn when I turn to face the camera and smile as the joy bubbles up inside me. Under the flashes of light, I’m discovering a new me, balance and beginning the process of loving myself in this new skin.
***
I’m starting to wonder if Edgar is a magician. Because I can’t seem to tell him no. We’ve been texting off and on since the day after we went to the movies together. He shocked me when he messaged me on Saturday night to see how I was doing. At the time I was impressed, and in need of the happy distraction after an emotional night with my mother. He hadn’t even followed the three-day rule. I wasn’t sure if it was refreshing or scary. Did it mean he was interested, or was I reading too far into things? In the end, I decide to shelve my worries, and enjoy the budding friendship.
It worked for the most part, but now I’m having pre non-date jitters as I try to choose an outfit for lunch and trip to the Downtown Aquarium. We’re not even in dating territory. I need to relax and go with the flow. I take a deep breath. I’m still nervous, so I use my rule. When in doubt, call your bestie and talk it out.
“Hey, Ef, what’s up?”
“Do you have a few minutes?” I ask. “I’m feeling … unsure about a few things.”
“I have time. What’s wrong?”
“Well, I’m meeting Edgar for lunch and a day at the aquarium and I don’t know what to wear.”
“What? You don’t know what to wear? That’s a first.” Liv giggles.
“It’s not funny.”
“Oh, it is. Let me guess, you’re freaking out?”
“It’s a non-date. I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard, but I’m interested. I don’t want to feel like he’s been banished to the friend zone.”
“So, you’ve made up your mind about him then?” she asks.
“Maybe?” I bite my bottom lip and laughter pours out of my earpiece.
“Oh, you are so gone. When’s this non-date?”
“In a couple of hours. We made arrangements a week ago. At the time, it sounded like a great idea. Now I’m kicking myself in the ass.”
“Why?” Liv asks.
“Because I’m all over the place.” I run my hand over my bald head. I’d started going out in public without a head covering. The pitying glances and whispers don’t escape my notice.
“Aren’t we all in some way? Listen, how long have you two been doing whatever you’ve been doing?”
“Almost a month.” Wow, has it been that long?
“Long enough for him to know if he likes you all over the place. He hasn’t complained or slipped off into the darkness, so I’m willing to wager you’re fine. I know you have a lot going on, but you’re happy when you’re with Edgar. Your face lights up when you talk about him, whether you want to admit or not. He’s becoming a part of your life. It’s okay that you haven’t defined what that means yet. It’s hotter than Hades out right now, so I’d suggest a lightweight shirt and shorts, or a flowy skirt and a tank top. It’s casual, comfortable. You won’t be dialing it in with jeans and a plain T-shirt or going overboard with something more formal.”
I rifle through my closet and come out with a black circle skirt and a white button down I pair with a set of low top black gladiator sandals.
“You’re a life saver.”
“Are you better now?” she asks.
“I am. I just needed to talk it out, you know?”
“I do. Remember how I was with Houston?”
“That was completely different. You didn’t want to lose your best friend or scr
ew up your situation with the kids.”
“Yes, but the root is the same. If you spend too much time worrying about if it’s a bad choice or not, you’ll drive yourself crazy.”
She speaks the truth. With everything else so out of my hands I’ve noticed myself obsessing over what I can control.
“You’re right. It’s always fun when we do get together. I need to stop overcomplicating things.”
“There’s my girl. Is there anything else I can help you with while the little monsters are content?”
The sound of their little voices in the background make me laugh. “Are you guys outside?”
“Yep, they’re exhausting themselves on the playground set just in time for a nice long nap after lunch.”
“You’re an evil genius.”
“Nah, just a tired mom.”
“Poor thing. Are you sleeping any better?”
“No, this little bug likes to cut a rug after midnight. When I pass out, Houston says the bug kicks him in the back.”
I snicker. “I can’t even feel bad. It seems like he gets to share fully in what you’re going through that way.”
She gives an evil laughter. “Yes. I said much the same thing. I know you need to get ready for your non-date, so I’ll let you go. But I want to hear all about it tomorrow, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am. Call me if you need anything. Even if it’s a nap. I’ll be happy to watch the trio.”
“I know. Love you, Efia.”
“Love you, too, babe,” I reply as I hang up. The pregnancy is going well, but I can tell she’s exhausted. I’ve made a point of spending more time with them recently, so I can take some of the bulk of the burden off. It’s everything she would do for me if the situations were reversed. I lucked out when I met her in college. You don’t get many forever friends in life you can count on. No matter how different our lives looked, or where our paths lead, we’ve always stayed in contact and close.
I play some Nina Simone to put my nerves at ease and jump in the shower, ready to get ready for the afternoon.