Pretty Girls Don't Cry (12 page)

“Just checking the break,” Dr. Garrett said. “Everything's healing nicely. I didn't squeeze it as hard as it seems, it's just really tender now. You'll have to be very careful, because the cartilage is still soft, and you could dent it. No sunglasses for at least three weeks.”

Nora looked back and forth between her mother and Dr. Garrett, who were both smiling, pleased with the results. Nora wondered when she might get to see her own nose that she'd paid for. Finally, she asked for a mirror.

“Of course,” Dr. Garrett said, grabbing a large, oval, hand-held mirror from the counter behind her.

Nora saw pretty much what she'd expected. The nose looked the way the shape under the thin cast had suggested. It was straight and lovely, and the tip was cute, with a thin line from where the edge of the cast had been. Nora pressed down on her puffy forehead above the nose, trying to flatten it. That was the part that looked odd. The nose looked great.

“That swelling will dissipate over the next several weeks,” Dr. Garrett said. “Your eyes look good. Not black at all. You've been taking the pineapple extract?”

“My eyelids are still yellow and purple underneath the makeup.”

“I think we've made an improvement here,” Dr. Garrett said confidently.

When Nora turned to check her mother's reaction again, she was rubbing the bulbous tip of her own nose. Nora grabbed her mother's knee and thanked her for coming with her.

Dr. Garrett explained further about how the nose would continue to change. When the cast first comes off, the nose looks as good as it will for several months, then it swells up without the cast there. Nora could already feel more blood pulsating through the tender nose, and stiffening her upper lip.

After the appointment, Nora and her mother walked outside to the bright afternoon sun, which felt twice as hot on her nose. It was so sensitive, so charged, that Nora felt like she was a nose, attached to a prosthetic body with relatively little sensation.

People walking by on the sidewalks seemed to stare at her, and she wondered if they knew about the plastic surgery clinic in the building. It was possible they saw people with new boobs and new noses and new faces walking down this same sidewalk all the time. Dr. Garrett had put a small piece of white tape across the bridge of her nose, so even with the makeup covering the bruises around her eyes, she still couldn't pass for normal.

Nora couldn't wait to get home and look in the mirror again, trying different hairstyle and maybe some darker shades of lipstick she'd never dared to wear before. While her mother drove, she gazed at her reflection in the little mirror in the passenger-side sun visor, all the way home. Her mother kept commenting about how much she looked like Aunt Kathryn now.

*

After another week, the swelling in her forehead went down, and her eyes were finally free of bruises. Nora's father begrudgingly admitted that the surgery looked good, and made a comment about needing to get a toupe to look better next to his beautiful wife and daughter, then he disappeared to the garage to work on the Camarro.

Once the white tape came off, Nora finally left the house for something other than a doctor appointment, and met Tianne for a shopping trip. Tianne gasped over her best friend's new appearance, and from that point on, she acted as though she had always been completely, one hundred percent supportive of the surgery.

In one store, Tianne's baby started to fuss. Nora lifted him from the stroller and held him close. His grabby little baby hands latched onto her tender nose. She made a noise that startled him to tears, and held him away from her body. Everybody in the store turned and stared at the monster who was shrieking at a baby, but Tianne grabbed the little boy and shushed him while laughing at her friend.

“I don't think he dented it,” Tianne said. “Is there a warranty?”

“Very funny.” She ran her fingers over the bridge to make sure he really hadn't dented it. There had been something about babies and children on the after-care sheets. She should have been more careful.

Tianne bounced baby Lucas on her hip and asked if they shouldn't go to the plastic surgeon to have it checked out.

“He scared me is all, it really is fine,” she reassured her friend.

They went back to shopping, and eventually, people stopped staring.

Nora held up a leather jacket in a raspberry shade. “Do you think I can pull this off?”

A pleasant-looking saleslady had approached quietly, and said, “Pretty girl like you? That jacket was made for you. Can I start you a changing room?”

Nora's head bowed humbly as she made her way back to the change rooms to try on jackets and jeans. Nobody had ever called her pretty before. Not once that she could remember. Sexy, yes, but never pretty.

Once the changing room door was closed, she let herself cry. They were tears of relief. She felt like she'd been holding her breath for years, and now she could let go.

*

Over the next few weeks, Nora weaned herself away from the mirror, allowing only a healthy ten minutes of non-makeup-related staring per day. The sensitivity faded, and she felt less terrified about accidentally re-breaking her nose, though she would not be letting Tianne's baby within smashing distance for a few months.

With a closet full of new clothes, Nora faced a difficult choice on her first morning back to work. Her six weeks of leave had passed, and it was
that
Monday. Back to reality.

As far as choices went, it wasn't a bad problem to have. Her eyes were between green and blue, and she didn't know if she should wear the green blouse or the blue. After ten minutes, and laughing at herself for being so indecisive, she chose the emerald green blouse and paired it with gray slacks that were only a few months old. The waistband felt a little tight, and she regretted her new pudding habit. If she wanted to not move up a pants size, she was going to have to cut out the pudding.

Nora had put word out at the station, through Kylie, that she'd had some surgery to correct a deviated septum, and gotten a little reshaping done while on the table. This was exactly the sort of thing celebrities would say. Dr. Garrett herself had recommended just such a white lie, and since it was prescribed by a doctor, it didn't seem so wrong. Besides, her breathing did seem better now, less obstructed.

The full impact of returning to work didn't hit Nora until she parked her car and found herself unable to get out of her seat. She eyed the front entrance, dread in the pit of her stomach.

They'd all be talking about her. Not just her new nose, but her hitting a co-worker, and biting another one. She considered starting her car and turning right around, but that would put her uncle in a bad position, scrambling to fill her spot. They had pre-recorded entire shows, just for such emergencies, but the tapes were an absolute last resort, because no matter how good you thought they were, the audience at their homes and offices could tell immediately that the people they were hearing weren't live. It was like the voices didn't match the weather, or something.

In the age of internet music and easily-accessed digital libraries on personal electronic devices, radio stations continued to exist for a reason. People wanted to feel connected to their city, and local radio stations were the conduits of connectivity.
Radio, the theater of the mind.
Only a DJ who lived where they lived in the city could talk about a national TV show, and tie that into mentioning a local pub that was supporting a finalist from nearby. Nora and the other announcers were the voice and ears of the city itself, nevermind that the voice of the city was having a level three panic attack in her car.

She considered calling Tianne to give her a pep talk, but then she remembered she wasn't that type of girl. She preferred to … what had she said that day?
Play with the big boys.

Nora took one last look at herself in the rear-view mirror, winked for good luck, and opened the car door.

*

Inside the air-conditioned station, Nora noticed the smell of something plastic. It was new carpeting in the lobby, and the scent was sharp and aggressive in her nose. The old carpet had been patterned, which hid stains, but looked more appropriate to a casino or banquet room. The new carpet was brown, with small houndstooth checks.

Nora stopped by Kylie's desk on the way to hers. She posed, turning one side to the other.

“I love those earrings on you,” Kylie said.

“Anything else?”

Kylie whispered, “The you-know-what looks nice too. Very natural. It suits you.” Her hand shook as she raised her mug and took a sip of her hot water with lemon wedges.

“Are you feeling well?” Nora asked, noting that Kylie's pretty cheeks looked hollow.

“Of course. Everyone's so glad you're back. Murray finished his sensitivity training and he's been making amends and driving me crazy. He keeps bringing me gifts.” She pointed to a potted tea rose adorned with ribbons, and a rainbow mug with the same ribbons. “Wait til you see what's on your desk.”

Nora ran to her workstation, Kylie at her heels, and found another potted tea rose, mugs and a selection of chocolates and coffee, plus a stunning bouquet of exotic-looking flowers. “Is that a bird of paradise?” she asked Kylie.

“Looks expensive.”

Nora spied the stack of memos and imagined how full her email inbox would be, which brought her down to earth. After a trip to the kitchen to get coffee, she settled down to her work. It didn't feel good or bad to be back, it just felt normal. Normal was fine, for now.

A few coworkers came by with questions about work-related things, but nobody mentioned the slap, or her surgery. Some people seemed to be making extra-careful eye contact, not letting their gaze move to her nose. A few of the men asked if she'd changed her hair, and after asking a few questions of the guys, Nora concluded that despite having put the word out via Kylie, most people were completely unaware she'd had facial surgery.

They really thought she was just refreshed from her day off.

Or that she'd gotten a perm.

“Yes,” she said, stringing Stevey along. “I did get a perm. My hair was straight before, remember?”

He eyed her suspiciously. “I don't know. I think it was always curly, but not quite as curly. I think it's the tan. You look different because you got one of those spray tans.”

“That must be it,” she said, lying.

“You got your eyes lasered. No more glasses,” he said.

“Stevey. I've never worn glasses.”

“Must just be your tan, then, I guess.” He opened the box of chocolates and selected the largest one.

“Please, help yourself,” Nora said, smiling. “It's not like I'm going to bite you.”

Stevey grabbed three more chocolates and pretended to be afraid as he ran away.

*

At one o'clock, Nora went on air for Afternoons with Nora. As summer was starting, she'd chosen Summer Camp as a theme, and had listeners email her their funniest camp stories.

The gossip blogs seemed tackier than usual that day. A certain B-list actress had appeared on red carpets sporting new plastic surgery recently, and several of the gossip blogs were abuzz with people comparing before and after photos, but Nora chose to ignore that story, for the day at least.

The bumper music played, and she took a calming breath, as she always did. Even when she wasn't on the air, hearing that little station ID over the same notes would make her take a breath.

After announcing the time and weather, she said into the microphone, “My parents sent me to what they thought was an all-girls' summer camp when I was fourteen. What they didn't know was my crush, the object of my teenage adulation, Eddie would be there as a junior counselor.” Nora stumbled for a moment, chagrin she'd mentioned Aaron Edward by name. Her personal rule was to use aliases for any personal anecdotes, but it was too late. “Eddie was a tough guy, as evidenced by the wallet he wore on a chain clipped to his belt. Best of all, he played the guitar. If I have any teenage guys listening out there, if you're wondering how to impress a girl, get one of those chains for your wallet and learn how to play the guitar. You only need to know about five chords. Eddie knew four chords, but he had my heart at three, along with all the other girls at camp. There's nothing quite like a campfire and the open night sky to make a guitar-playing seventeen-year-old into a rock star, and fourteen-year-old me into a groupie.” She paused to let it sink in with listeners. There was no point in ruining a great anecdote by denying it oxygen. “Eddie, if you're listening, I would have met you that night by the lake for skinny dipping, but our own cabin counselor knew better, and she armed the cabin's alarm system every night, without fail.” Pause. “Eddie, sometimes when I close my eyes, on a hot summer night, I'm fourteen again, and I'm running down to that lake to meet you under the moonlight. I'm
forever
running down to that lake.”

Nora leaned back from the microphone and eased up the slider to bring up the song that was already beginning, a Bryan Adams song,
The Summer of '69
. Though decades predating her experience, the sentiment still fit. Bryan sang about playing guitar until his fingers bled, and Nora was pleased at how nicely her first afternoon show was coming together. She did not choose the songs, as the Music Director did, but she could rearrange their order.

The songs were like playing cards dealt in a game, and her job was to make the most of what she'd been given.

*

After her show ended and the next shift took over the studio, Nora stretched her arms high over her head on the way back to her desk. A hand-written note was waiting on her keyboard.

It read:
Welcome back, kiddo. The anecdote about summer camp was ACES. I want more and the listeners demand more! LOVE these stories from the HEART. Love, Uncle Don

Nora noticed Murray moving around the office, keeping his distance, but circling, circling, like a shark. She didn't want to face him, so she grabbed her purse and phone and left work early.

Absent-mindedly, she rubbed her nose, and grimaced at the tenderness. Everything was healing well, but still delicate.