To Be With You (7 page)

“I don’t know, but I love it,” Melanie said, blinking at the mirror with full, dark lashes. “You’ll get the hang of it.” She stuck the wand in the tube and pulled it out, turning to Nicole. “Would you like me to do yours?”

“No,” Nicole said, shying away. “I already have too much on.”

“Not too much, just clumped.”

“Fine, well, I’m washing off and starting over.”

“And then I’ll re-do it for you.”

“Fine.”

Melanie went to change the song on her iPod, and Nicole washed off the mascara. “I didn’t even know you had started wearing makeup,” Melanie said, handing Nicole a face towel.

“I didn’t,” Nicole said, using it to gently dab away the water. “But I felt really stupid going to a club with gorgeous guys without any. You should see the other girls there. Really done up.”

“You look great without makeup.”

“I look better with it. A little anyway.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Plus, it’s like war paint.”

“What?”

“It’s like having your game face on. Like you know you are at your best, and when people look at you to judge you, you know you are at least using your physical beauty at its best.”

“I know what you mean, I think. I hate running into people when my hair and makeup aren’t done. People are so judgy.”

“Yeah,” Nicole said. “So if I’m going out to be around other humans, which, let’s be honest, isn’t as much as a lot of people, I like to be ready for as little criticism as possible.”

Nicole rubbed a finger vigorously over some eye shadow that she’d blended badly. Stupid mucky paint.

“Nicole, a brush works better for blending.”

“It does? But my finger is sturdier, and this stuff won’t move.”

“I know. Let me show you.” Melanie reached in her bag, found a short, dense dome tip brush and brought it to Nicole’s face. “Look down.”

Nicole did and Melanie gently applied a little more shadow to each crease, a little more to each lid, and then used the brush to blend the two together in short, fast movements. When she was done she let Nicole turn back to the mirror.

Nicole looked once then shot closer to the mirror to investigate further. “How did you do that?” She pulled her lid down on one side to study it. “Amazing. It’s like art.”

“I guess makeup is. That’s what my mom taught me anyway.”

Nicole frowned. “I wish mine had been around to teach me.”

Melanie rummaged in her bag.

“You know, but I like being pretty,” Nicole said.

“Me too. I wonder why, it’s not useful at all. Probably something about societal pressure to conform to rigid gender expectations.” Melanie said.

“Stop being a psych major.”

Melanie grinned. “Are you sure? I’ll give you free therapy as my first patient.”

“No thanks,” Nicole said. “I’ve got one.”

Nicole remembered the shrink her aunt had taken her to after the move. Not all therapists were created equal. That one had seemed too focused on turning her pain into symptoms so he could treat her. How can you make symptoms out of heartache? And how can you tell a thirteen-year-old girl to look into what’s hurting her for the purpose of being cured? She was sure that he meant well, but Nicole didn’t know how you were supposed to cure a disease caused by someone else’s behavior. It was like asking a mouse in a trap to lift the metal squashing his head and get out, so people didn’t have to listen to his squeaks anymore.

Nicole tried to avoid the emotions accompanying the memory, because she was worried her one eye would start crying. Then they’d have to re-do all of her makeup again. Stupid one eye. The rest of her face would be totally fine, and tears would just fall slowly, like she’d sprung a leak in her wall of denial.

“Hold on a minute,” Nicole said, pulling away, leaving the room to dab her eye in private.

“Are you alright? Is the mascara bothering you?”

“No,” Nicole said. Life bothered her. A life she’d never seemed to fit into, a life that hadn’t seemed to want her much. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay.” Melanie picked up the wand again, and Nicole looked up automatically.

“Can you look down now? I need to do the bottom lashes.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Nicole did, and Melanie held her upper lashes out of the way. It felt intimate and uncomfortable, like a touch of unwelcome kindness that was just putting more pressure on the leaky dam. Nicole hated touch, it either felt so good it made you afraid, or it felt so bad it made you afraid. She felt itchy, knew that Melanie was her cousin, and a girl, and someone who cared, but still, fingers were fingers, hands were hands.

Nicole had always felt somewhat like a mirror, someone who reflects back to others more of what they really were inside. She felt she brought out the caring in caring people and darkness in dark people, so being with someone like Melanie was nice. But Melanie’s kindness, her tenderness, were making her wary, and she found herself wanting to get to the club where she could sink into polite, anonymous banter with the others. Really, she wanted to be alone with her laptop, to write or surf the Internet or just think without the feeling that someone was trying to violate her.

“There,” Melanie said.

Nicole looked at her reflection. “It looks great. Thanks so much. I need to change, can you wait outside?”

“Sure,” Melanie said, looking a bit hurt. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

No, Nicole thought. People being nice to me make me afraid of what they want from me. “Yes. I just need a moment.”

“Okay,” Melanie said, and she went out and closed the door behind her.

Nicole gripped the sink harder, staring into the mirror. She deserved friends and love. She went through the affirmation routine she relied on for relief. She smiled at the mirror, and the face smiling back at her reminded her that there was at least one person in the world who liked her. She could trust herself.

She went to her room, pulled open her drawers, and searched for an outfit. She knew it was weird to ask Melanie to go outside, but she didn’t change in front of anyone, girl or not. Girls could easily end up as weird as men did, although they didn’t seem as naturally inclined to do so.

At times, she wondered what made her stepdad like he was. What created a person like that, or what had happened to him to make him like that? Was a person born to hurt others, or hurt until that’s all they knew to do? At least in her, that impulse had never come to fruition. Her experience with pain made her so loath to inflict it on others. She had a hard time even allowing pain for others, acknowledging that sometimes it was necessary and okay, because for her it had been overwhelming, crushing.

She pulled on clothing, not caring much what it looked like, and went to open the door for Melanie. Melanie was there waiting, and grabbed Nicole into a hug. Nicole winced, then locked the piece of her up that was screaming, and returned the hug. She tried to soothe Melanie, who looked like she was blaming herself for Nicole’s depressive descent. No. Just talking about makeup. Talking about shrinks. Talking about anything that reminded her of how she was different.

Nicole knew there had to be many like her, many abused but not lucky enough to have an aunt that would rescue them and a cousin like Melanie. She hoped her books gave them happiness that wasn’t threatening.

“Are you sure you still want to go out tonight?” Melanie asked, still holding on.

“Sure,” Nicole pulled back. “I’m a little off tonight, but I can be a little off out at a club as well as I can be a little off at home.” She gave Melanie a nudge towards her suitcase so she would get dressed. “Besides, it might make me feel better.”

While Melanie picked out clothes, Nicole checked her hair in the mirror. Sean would be at the club. So much better than a letter or an email. She could sit with him and remember how much they had cared for each other back then. She could remember one person that never wanted to hurt her, and she could live in the hope that this adult Sean was just here to protect her, and not for any other reason.

Most of all, she could go out and be with friends, people who made the darkness seem darker but invited her into the light.

T
here was a way of seeing a woman that made a man feel like he’s more than he was, and that’s how Sean saw Nicole.

He enjoyed watching her with her cousin, a younger woman, with similar skin to Nicole, if a bit darker. The two were clearly related, with the same beautiful curly hair, dark skin, and big smiles. A rare amount of eye makeup lined her eyes, setting off the sparkle that always seemed to jump from them. Nicole’s bone structure was a little different than Melanie’s, more striking, maybe because she was in her mid-twenties while Melanie was only eighteen.

Nicole was being warm and friendly tonight, probably because she was with Melanie who was so helpful and supportive and curious about everything.

The two sat close, Justin on one side, Jason on the other. Sean sat on a neighboring couch, watching them play pool with the other hosts and feeling jealous.

“Ha!” Melanie said, sinking a ball. “Sorry, Justin.”

“No!” Justin laughed and made an exaggerated pose of despair. “How could you Melanie! I thought you loved me!”

“You’re such a cheese ball, Justin.”

“That’s right,” he said, looking at the table for his next move. “Cut me up and serve me with crackers. I’m a total cheese ball.”

The group laughed, including Nicole, and Sean pushed away any feeling of bitterness that she was laughing with another man and smiled with them.

“I’m in next game,” he said.

“I thought you hated pool,” Jason said, scowling at the table.

“I don’t hate it,” Sean said. “Anyway, I’m bored.”

“There are a ton of girls here,” Jason said. “Why don’t you entertain one of them?” He exchanged knowing smirks with Justin.

“I don’t want to,” Sean said. “Besides, won’t it ruin my appeal if I become eager?”

“True!” Justin said, trying to calculate an angle. “You’re a fast learner, old man."

“Old man?”

“Yeah. Given by demeanor, not age.”

Sean glared, and the others laughed. He was a bit tired of being called an old soul, of the expectations to always be mature, to do the right thing. Just because he was smart enough not to say or do stupid things, didn’t mean he wasn’t tempted. He was still a 24-year-old guy, and while he tried his best to be a good man, he was tired of others just expecting it. But it was hard to show anyone your human side when you were trying to impress a girl.

“So, John, tell me about your goals in life.” Melanie said, dark eyes sparkling up at him. Why did dark eyes sparkle so brightly?

“Not much,” he said. “Working here. A few plans outside of this. Top secret.”

“Rude!” Melanie laughed. “Why can’t you tell us?”

“Now, Melanie,” Justin said. “You know it’s not proper to get into the old man’s business.”

“Wow.” Sean rolled his eyes. “Everything I do makes me an old man.”

“If the boot fits,” Nicole said, surprising everyone by jumping in. “Besides, you turned us down for pool when we wanted you to play. We’re entitled to tease you about being an old man so that we don’t feel immature.”

“I see,” Sean said. “Well, it’s not like an odd number would have made sense anyway.”

“I would have let you have my spot,” Jason said. “No one here appreciates me anyway.” He pulled his glasses down to glare at the girls and Justin.

“Please, Jason,” Justin said. “We appreciate you. We appreciate that you make the funniest reactions when you get thwarted.”

“That’s right,” Nicole said. “We appreciate how fun it is to thwart you.”

Jason laughed, throwing his hands in the air. “Alright. Well I’m going to go mingle. The game is basically over for me, and Melanie’s about to finish anyway.”

“Really?” Nicole asked.

“You haven’t even been paying attention,” Jason said. He said his goodbyes and left.

Sean took the opportunity to move in on Nicole’s left and sit by her. The couch was a half circle so that they could surround the pool table in front of them.

“Should I take his spot or just watch?” he said.

“Probably just watch,” Nicole said. “It’s almost over anyways, apparently. Besides, it seems like those two are the only ones paying much attention to it anyway.”

“True,” Sean said, looking at Justin, who was arguing with Melanie. They seemed to enjoy it.

“Want to play a different game then? Just with me?” Sean asked.

She nodded and followed him to the game cabinet.

“What would you like to play?” Sean pushed games around and found Sorry. “How about Sorry?”

“Sure,” she said. “My best friend and I used to play this game all the time. In fact, he’s the one that’s a lot like you.”

“It sounds like he meant a lot to you.” Sean took the game out and started to set it up on a table away from the crowds.

“He still does.” She took one of the pieces from the start position and rolled it in her hands.

“Whoa,” Sean said. “So is this a love interest?”

“No. That’s why he means so much. He’s been the only one who hasn’t tried to use me like that.”

She looked beautiful tonight. He couldn’t believe his best friend had grown into this woman. Her hair was shiny and curly and her face had sharpened with years. When she looked up at him her dark eyes seemed to twinkle. He realized she had said something important. “Wait, what do you mean men use you?”

Nicole hesitated for a moment. “You know. Men start out nice. They act like your friend. They treat you well.”

Sean nodded. “Sounds right.”

“But it doesn’t last.”

“What?” Sean asked. “Like they want to sleep with you?”

“No,” she said. “That’s not the bad part.” She shook her head. “Wait, why am I telling you this? I have a shrink. I’m sorry.”

“No, go on, I’m interested.”

“You’re nice.” She smiled softly. “If they had just wanted sex in the first place, I’d have just blown them off and been fine.”

He nodded.

“But they always start out good, and by the time they turn bad, I’ve started to love them and thought they loved me. It always turns out I was just someone they wanted to use, and they treated me well so that I would let them.”