Pretty Girls Don't Cry (18 page)

Of course, when she was fourteen, her fantasies had consisted of them holding hands, or sharing a can of Coke, both of their mouths touching the same can or straw. Her thoughts about him as an adult were much less adorable.

She clicked the button to receive his call, but her monitor was black. “I don't think your picture's working,” she said into her microphone.

“How about now?” came Aaron's voice, sounding hollow from being away from the speaker. The black image on the screen shifted, and she could make out the outline of something square. A pocket. The pocket got smaller and was joined by another. The screen hadn't been black from not working; she was looking at Aaron's butt, in his leather pants. “Are you getting anything?” he asked innocently.

“Maybe you should bend over and check the cords on the floor, make sure they aren't tangled.”

Gamely, he took two steps away and angled a bit to the side, giving her a nice view of his bum in the leather pants as he bent over. “You're right, these cords are all tangled up,” he said.

Nora giggled. “I just took some screen captures for later,” she said.

“Oh no, blackmail material. You can sell it to the tabloids when I'm famous.” He turned around, displaying the front of his pants and the nice shape around his zipper. Nora had to look away in modesty, and when she looked back, Aaron's face was on the screen.

“I love the new song,” she said. “Why didn't you play it at the party?”

He shrugged and smiled sweetly. “I'm shy.”

“Yeah right.”

He leaned in toward his camera, filling the screen with his lips, and made a kissing sound. After he settled back in his chair, he said, “So, when are you coming back to town for a visit?”

“Soon. Real soon. To see my parents, of course. We're having a little send-off party for Uncle Don before he jets off to Europe and beyond.”

Aaron turned and pulled something down from the wall behind him. It appeared to be a massive cork board, covered in postcards, clippings, and yellow Post-it notes, not unlike the inspiration board back at Nora's former studio. “I'm marking my calendar,” Aaron explained. “I'm very organized. What day is the party, and do you need anyone in leather pants to attend, or is it more of a jeans thing?”

Nora assured him he could wear anything he wanted. They continued talking for nearly two hours, as she told him all about her new job and city, and he caught her up on the ups and downs of producing music. Nora admitted she hadn't given much thought to what went into creating the songs they played at the station; new songs were always just there, as predictably and reliably as electricity and running water. He admitted he felt somewhat adversarial toward the gatekeepers of the music industry, and even the on-air personalities, who didn't choose the songs, but still had the power to make or break artists by how they presented the material. They talked about how complicated and frustrating the whole industry was, and how money and the flow of it got in the way of humans connecting with each other through art and stories.

“Just so we're clear,” Nora said, “I'd like my cash up front, and for a thousand dollars I'll say your new single is the smash hit of the summer. For two thousand, I'll refrain from singing along with the intro.”

“Deal,” Aaron said. His face froze, and Nora thought for a second the connection had been dropped, but he was just gazing back at her, looking at her, and listening for what she'd say next.

Chapter 11

Aaron Edward

Talking to Nora had taken Aaron's mind blissfully off other, less enjoyable business.

First, there was the stack of paperwork on his desk. He'd tried to get his housekeeper to help him open the mail and set up a filing system. “It's a type of housekeeping,” he'd said, but she wasn't convinced. She finally conceded to helping him open some mail, but only if he told her more about his love life. She found the real lives of her younger clients much more interesting than soap operas.

Second to the paperwork, or first if you went by annoyance level, was his ex-wife, Shoshanna. On their first date, she'd grilled him with a hundred questions, but failed to mention her very serious, very Jewish parents, or her bi-polar disorder.

Though her name should have been his first clue, he figured out the Jewish thing on his first dinner at her family's house, and decided it was an obstacle he could overcome to be with Shoshanna. Besides her bad habit of yelling at waiters, other drivers, and even inanimate objects, she was fun to be around, and exciting in the bedroom. There were some issues, but he'd correlated the nightmare sessions of mid-coital crying to a certain time of the month, and arranged to have headaches on those days, and it seemed they might be able to make a relationship work.

They married. It was a spontaneous moment, in Las Vegas, while they were in town for some mutual friends' bachelor and bachelorette parties. It was stupid, and getting married at a tacky chapel didn't seem right, but it didn't seem wrong either.

They'd been married six months when he found her empty pill bottle next to the kitchen garbage can.

He tried to tell himself he was upset over the secret, not the mental illness itself, but how could he know?

That very morning, he realized he'd been subconsciously making future plans without Shoshanna, for a life after what he assumed would be their inevitable divorce.

The day he found the pill bottle had been two years ago, and the divorce had only been finalized the day he returned to his childhood home of Eugene.

They'd tried, for a while, to “make it work,” though after many fights, and some independent soul searching at his own therapist's office, he'd determined that he wasn't breaking up with her because of her mental illness, but because she was a liar, and he didn't actually
like
her that much.

Aaron's friends hadn't seen it his way. Shoshanna painted a convincing portrait of him as cold and selfish, focused only on his music career. She told her parents tall tales about him cheating on her, and they believed their flesh and blood.

Shoshanna's older sister had been the only one to see through the lies. If it wasn't for her, Aaron might have left town with his head hanging low, believing the worst about himself, but with one honest moment from his soon-to-be-former-sister-in-law, he'd been saved.

Aaron left Los Angeles for a number of reasons, including getting a fresh start and more time outdoors. Somewhere in that list was putting some distance between him and the sister-in-law, who he didn't think he could resist for long. He'd felt a fondness for her that he hadn't experienced since his childhood crush on Nora Scott.

Talking to Nora, even though it was over the computer, made him feel alive.

He'd stared at her bouncy hair, wishing he could reach through the screen and touch it, and her creamy skin. More than that, though, scared him.

He was terrified of what was under the fabric of her slacks. Specifically, he was terrified of his own reaction. If they were together, he feared he might be the way he was with the tadpoles, unable to hold them, letting them slip through his fingers.

And then, there was Shoshanna. She'd been calling. She could be very convincing.

Chapter 12

Nora Scott

On Monday at work, Stevey assured Nora, off air, that he was still, indeed, asexual, and the kissing had not awoken any lusty feelings for her. He would probably fudge the truth and talk it up during that day's show, but he didn't really like her
like that
. She was somewhat reassured by this, because after video dates the previous two nights, she felt like she had a boyfriend of sorts in Aaron, and kissing another man would be wrong.

During the first two hours of their morning show, they did
Weird Stuff We Ordered on the Internet
. Nora gave Stevey what appeared to be crispy rice squares, but was actually soap.

“No fair, it smells like vanilla,” Stevey said on the air. “I know you said it's soap, but I don't believe you. This is actually Rice Krispies and you're punking me.”

“Why don't you take a little nibble?” she said.

The producer grinned and nodded encouragement.

“I'm going to munch into this corner here … mmm.” He did munch into the corner, chewed, then let out some horrible sounds. After, he kept patting at his tongue with paper towels, on air and off. Nora was impressed by Stevey's commitment to authenticity. He'd known bloody well the squares were soap, but he'd eaten it anyway, even though it was radio and he could have just pretended to have taken a bite.

Stevey presented Nora with a pair of candy handcuffs, also bought via the internet, and dared her to do the rest of the show wearing them, while chewing her way free. Working the controls would be awkward with the cuffs on, but she did it. Stevey simply nodded, and she knew she'd gained his respect. They had equal commitment, they had trust, and according to early numbers, they had a hit show.

When a caller asked about why Nora had chosen the charity she had the previous week, for the donations from listeners, she looked to Stevey for guidance.

He gave her another nod, as if to say it was time, and she said, on air, that the charity was very close to her heart, because she'd suffered the loss of a limb herself. “I had a transtibial amputation at the age of fourteen, and I've been lucky enough to have the resources for excellent prostheses and medical treatment. Others are not so lucky, both at home in our own country, and abroad. I appreciate the good work all charities do, but because I've experienced for myself how empowering it is to be able to walk on your own two feet, be they flesh or metal, this charity is close to my heart. I thank you for your donations, and ...” She began pushing up the volume on the next song, a romantic ballad by Julio Iglesias. “The opportunity to kiss Stevey. Life is truly full of wonder.”

When she looked up, Stevey was wiping at his eye.

*

Nora packed some clothes in an overnight bag for her trip home. She still had some clothes and things in her old bedroom, but they were mostly winter clothes, and compared to her new purchases, they were so drab. She felt like she'd been living her life in gray and taupe, and somebody had just switched on the color. She didn't know if it was the new job, living on her own, the confidence from the nose job, or even the blossoming, flirtatious relationship with Aaron. It was probably all of the above, not that it even mattered.
This must be what it feels like to become an adult
, she thought as she pulled out of the parkade.

She did a double-take at some people crossing the sidewalk near the radio station. They were from her former city, people she'd see at her grocery store, but what were they doing here? Upon closer inspection, the man's face was longer and the woman was older than she expected. They were doppelgangers! Nora had been seeing them everywhere since she'd moved. Everyone from her former city seemed to have a twin here in the new one.

Stranger still, people looked at her as though they knew her. It must have been due to the billboards with her face on them. Nobody had approached her for anything as hilarious as an autograph yet, but she'd been getting more stares than usual. She'd mentioned this to Tianne, who had attributed it to the new nose and her matching confidence. “You want people to see you. It's like when a taxi puts its light on.”

Nora had protested that she was no taxi, but as she drove through town, noticing people on the sidewalks looking back at her, even inside her modest little car, she wondered if it wasn't a little bit true.

*

Nora returned home in time for a late dinner with her parents. Her mother had been experimenting with recipes, and had made a chicken curry with chunks of banana. It was good, except for the bananas.

School was out for the summer, and Nora's parents were driving each other crazy, as they always did for the first few weeks. Nora did not regret being away at her own place this year.

Nora's father stroked his beard and demanded to know when he could come and install permanent safety equipment in Nora's apartment's shower.

“I said I have a chair. It's very stable.”

Nora's father frowned and disappeared to the garage to work on the Camarro.

“I will lend him to you for a week,” Nora's mother said. “Please. Take him. Get a hammer and break some things in your funky little loft, so he can fix them.” When this didn't convince Nora, her mother offered cold, hard cash.

Nora said, “In another week, you two will be fine, then before you know it, you'll be grumbling about returning to work in the fall.”

“Maybe it's time to think about retiring,” Nora's mother said. “Your uncle has the right idea. I talked to your father about retiring a few years ahead of schedule, while we're still young and mobile.”

“What did Dad think of that?”

Nora's mother tapped her ginger cookie on her plate and looked sad. “He said he might not retire at all. Says he's seen the other guys after they've quit working. They put on twenty pounds, get some type of illness, and they're done. All downhill from there. It's like ... he thinks his life will be over if he's not working. I don't know what we've been saving for all these years. I just don't know. We should have taken you on more vacations.”

“Mom, don't say that. You guys have given me everything a person could want. Except for a pony. I did always want a pony.”

Nora's mother tapped her cookie again, a little smile on her lips. “Yard's a bit small for a pony, but we can go pick one up today if you like.”

Nora hugged her mother and kissed her on the top of her head. She'd almost forgotten how much she loved the smell of her mother's special blend of hair products: coconut and lemon, to tame the curls but keep the shine. Nora's own hair serum smelled much more medicinal.

After they cleared away the dinner and dessert dishes, Nora's mother retired to the rec room to watch her shows, and Nora found herself wandering around her parents' house, seeing everything with new eyes.