Robin Alexander
I took one more disgusted look at my computer screen and
pushed away from my desk intent on soothing my frustration
with a handful of Oreos and a glass of milk. I thought better of
that plan when a draft of cold air moved up the crack of my ass.
My habit of cookie consolation had resulted in the ruining of my
favorite jeans that were now split from the crotch halfway up my
backside. I wondered if an apple would comfort me as much as a
cookie. My taste buds said no.
Feeling sorry for myself, I stood at my window and stared
down at the sidewalk. “I could get one of those.” I watched a
cab pull to the curb and deposit a woman and her dog onto the
sidewalk. The yellow ball of fluff sat patiently at its mistress’s
side as the cabbie was paid. I caught a glimpse of blond curly hair
protruding from the knit cap atop the woman’s head, but that was
all I could see from my third-floor vantage point.
The knit cap with pooch in tow approached a moving van that
pulled to the curb when the cab pulled away. “She must be moving
into the Kellehers’ old apartment.” I watched as my new neighbor
disappeared into the doorway. And then the Oreos began calling
to me again.
I was about to heed their call when I caught a glimpse of
myself in the mirror and stopped in my tracks. I’d put on at least
ten pounds in the year after Cindy left. My hair was out of control.
I’d given up trying to do anything with it. It sat piled on top of my
head, held precariously by a banana clip. My eyebrows rivaled
Andy Rooney’s.
I’d heard Kalen say a dozen times that a makeover worked
miracles. Perhaps it was time I made myself over. I looked at my
reflection again and decided that a diet would have to come first.
The cookies had to go, and I had just enough milk to make that
happen.
I was stuffing the last of them into my mouth when the phone
rang. Kalen’s name showed on the caller ID. I tossed the phone
back onto the table as I listened to her voice on my answering
machine. “I know you’re in there, Shannon. Pick up this phone
because if you don’t, you know I’l be there in five. I have a key—”
“What?” I said around a mouthful of cookie.
Pitifully Ugly
“Be glad you picked up the phone because I have a date for
you.”This news was met with mixed emotion. I was intrigued, but
a little gun-shy after the last fix-up. She was nice, but her cat
pissed in my shoe and bit me on the ankle. All of which he denied,
and she refused to believe that Mr. Jingles was capable of such
behavior.
“Are you still there?” Kalen asked.
“Yes. Who is this person you’re giving me away to?”
“She’s Candace’s cousin. Remember? I told you about
her. Her family owns a restaurant in Harahan, and by the way,
that’s where she’s taking you for dinner tomorrow night. Wear
something nice, no jeans. She’ll call you later this afternoon with
the details.”
I decided not to tell her that jeans weren’t an option anyway
since my ass was hanging out of my only decent pair. “Okay.”
“Excellent,” Kalen said. I could tell she was smiling, pleased
with her accomplishment. “I’ll expect you to call me Sunday
morning with all the details.”
My stomach twisted into knots as I dropped the phone back
onto the table. The comfort cookies weren’t feeling so comfortable
in the pit of my stomach. What would I wear? What would she
think of me? Would I be able to relax around her? Did she have
a cat?
The following evening found me in the front seat of a brand
new Camaro. Jackie, my date for the evening, had chivalrously
opened my door. I studied her as she walked around to the
driver’s side. Dark hair cut stylishly short. Tall but not what I’d
consider slender, which was fine with me. Being sidled up to
some emaciated thing would only make me feel more miserable
about my appearance. Nice smile, pretty green eyes.
“So, Shannon,” she said as she put on her seat belt. “Tell me
all about yourself.”
I hated to hear that question. Just once, I wished I had the girl-
balls to say, I work for the federal government in a department
that I cannot disclose, but I can tell you that I’m trained to kill
Robin Alexander
using nothing more than a toothpick. So when you say you’ll cal ,
you damn well better do it. “I’m kind of a homebody. I like to read
and watch movies. What about you?”
Jackie liked to do a great many things, one of which was talk
about herself, which she did for the thirty minutes it took us to
go two miles. No sooner than we merged onto the interstate, we
came to a complete stop.
“I hate traffic.” Jackie gunned the engine for emphasis. “It
never fails. There’s always an accident or construction jamming
everything up.”
I wanted to commiserate but was distracted by the flush that
rose up the side of her neck and the way she gripped the gearshift.
Instead, I opted for something that would take her mind off the
snarl that had us inching along. “So did I understand correctly
that you were in the military for a while?” Jackie shot me a
sideways glance. The flush that crept up her face was beginning
to spread.
“Did Candace tell you that?”
“I think she might’ve mentioned it to my sister,” I said,
wishing that I’d chosen another topic. Jackie’s face had turned
completely red.
“That’s just like Candy. She loves to tell everyone about how I
was discharged for anger management issues. I mean, you’d think
that the Army would want someone willing to fight.”
Jackie revved the engine as the traffic began to move again at
a snail’s pace. She rhythmically squeezed the steering wheel with
both fists as she stared straight ahead. Awkward silence hung
between us like a veil, and I pondered how long it would take me
to walk back to my apartment.
“People like this piss me off.” Jackie pointed at the car sitting
in front of us as the traffic in front of it moved up at least four
car lengths. “She’s texting her ass off.” Jackie blew the horn, and
the distracted driver gave her the one-finger salute before moving
on. “So what exactly is it that you do?” she asked as we came to
a stop again.
“My sister and I own four hair salons. She’s the—”
Pitifully Ugly
“Bitch! Drive!” Jackie screamed out her window, earning
another salute, but the car did move along. She ran her fingers
through her hair and laughed nervously. “Sorry, what were you
saying?”
I’d like to go home now. “Um…I was telling you what I did
for a living.”
“Right.” Jackie waved her hand for me to continue as she
glared at the car ahead.
“Kalen handles the staff and the promotion of our salons, and
I handle all the paperwork and generally the stuff she doesn’t
want to do. The high side is that I get to work from home.” I think