Paint Me Fearless, page 4
Winston and I trailed behind, giving Sunny plenty of room to do what she did best… mesmerize her audience with her radiant, all-encompassing personality.
†††
I filled Winston’s water bowl while Mama chatted with Robin about school. “The first day of high school is such an exciting time. And, Robin, honey, it’s a perfect time to—”
“Reinvent yourself,” I said.
“That sounds like fun,” Robin said. “What do I have to do?”
Sunny let out a giant laugh. “Not a thing. With those gorgeous eyes of yours, all the work is already done.”
When Robin blushed, I poked her. “You do have the prettiest eyes, Robin. Mine are squinty and beady, but yours are like… what do you always say, Mama?”
“Saucers,” Sunny said. “You just need to show them off. Desi, go run and get my makeup bag, and let’s play a little. Come and see my painting, Robin.”
When I joined them in the painting room, Robin gawked at Sunny’s painting. Since I was Sunny’s daughter, I recognized the magnificent scene illustrating the Battle of Waterloo.
“Who is that little guy with his hand in his jacket?” Robin asked.
Sunny reached for the makeup bag, gently pulling Robin to a seat beside her. “That, my dear, is Napoleon Bonaparte, also known as the Emperor of the French.”
“Oh,” Robin breathed, closing her eyes as Mama began the makeover. I watched as Mama’s long, slender fingers brushed a light shadow under Robin’s brows.
“And yet he was of Italian descent, which explains his propensity for romance.” She winked. We giggled. “He became prominent during the French Revolution, and he was a brilliant military leader.” Sunny leaned back, inspecting Robin’s face as if it were a painting. “Close your eyes for me.”
Robin did as she was told, barely able to contain herself.
Mama rifled through her eyeliner collection. “I say we go with either smoky indigo or sultry black. What do you think, kitten?”
“The blue. Definitely the blue one.” I handed her the eyeliner, marveling at Robin’s beauty. I felt a sudden uncontainable burst of happiness. What could be better than playing makeup with a happy Sunny and my best friend?
“Napoleon is considered one of the greatest commanders in history,” Sunny said as she theatrically swept eyeliner along Robin’s lids. “His campaigns are still studied at military schools to this day.”
“Hurry and get to the good stuff,” I urged. Sometimes I had to rein her in when she talked history, or she’d get bogged down on boring details rather than the romance part.
“The good stuff, eh?” She raised her eyebrow. “Why, you wicked, wicked girls.” Sunny held the eyeliner up to avoid poking Robin, who doubled over in laughter. “Laugh with your eyes open, goose, or it will smear.”
Once Robin and I had our giggling under control, Mama rouged Robin’s cheeks and added a bit of concealer here and there. Finally, she sat back and admired her work, turning Robin’s chin this way and that. “Stunning.”
Sunny motioned me over, and I traded spots with Robin. “Don’t look yet,” I told Robin. “Wait for me.” I closed my eyes and let Mama do her magic.
“Joseph, Napoleon’s brother, had his eye on Désireé first,” Sunny continued. “But Napoleon discouraged him once he got a look at her because he was smitten and wanted her for himself.”
“Did they get married?” Robin asked.
“Alas, no,” Sunny said dramatically. “They fell in love and were engaged, but it was a time of war and great chaos. Napoleon was transferred, and they were forced to be apart for a long time. When he came back, her feelings had cooled.”
“What? That’s so sad,” Robin said.
“I agree,” Sunny scoffed, as if personally offended. “Désireé ended up marrying General Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte. And Napoleon wrote a very gracious letter of congratulations to the couple. That’s the kind of man he was.”
Robin frowned. “I don’t think I could be that nice if my boyfriend married someone else.”
“Oh, but their love was so deep, so all-consuming, that even though he married Josephine, and Désireé had her life with Bernadotte, they were forever devoted to each other. They lived out their lives with much regret.”
“Really?” Robin lamented.
“That’s what I believe,” Sunny said. “Years later Napoleon wrote a romantic novella, a sort of fictionalized version of their doomed romance.”
I glanced at Robin. “I’ll never get why she named me after a lady who had a doomed romance. I’m jinxed for sure.”
“Oh, don’t be silly.” Mama puckered her lips so I would do the same. When she capped the lipstick, she pronounced me: “Lovely.”
She picked up a mirror, holding it just within our reach. “You two are going to have the best of times. You’ll meet the loves of your lives, and your children will be friends, and you’ll live happily ever after.”
“Sounds like a fairy tale,” I said.
Mama looked suddenly melancholy. “Fairy tales can come true. Sometimes you just have to help them along.”
She handed us the mirror. Robin grabbed my hand. On the count of three, we flipped it. Robin gasped. “Oh… I can’t believe this is me.”
“You look really pretty,” I said.
She blushed a beautiful pink. “Not as pretty as you.”
Sunny sat back, lit another Kool cigarette, and watched us for a minute. “How about we have a big party when school starts? A bonfire maybe?”
I glanced excitedly at Robin, who was still a bit dazed after seeing herself in the mirror. “For real, Mama? Are you serious? Would Mr. Tom let us do that?”
Sunny flicked ashes into an ashtray. “Might take a little oodling.”
“Oh, I can be the best oodler! A bonfire would be fun,” I squealed.
“It would,” Robin said. “We could roast hot dogs and marshmallows and invite the football players. Even the stuck-up Bouncy girls.”
We moved our faces together, rubbing foreheads in a fit of delight.
“Yes.” Sunny nodded. “Let’s do it. I want to have a look at the pickings. We’ll find you both a Prince Charming.”
†††
That night, long after Mr. Tom had gone to bed, I heard Sunny coming down the hall to my bedroom. I didn’t hear her, per se. I heard the clinks of the ice in her glass. Winston’s tiny tail thumped under the covers beside me.
“Hey, kitten, you asleep?”
I smiled in the dark. “No, I’m too excited about the bonfire.”
Mama laughed in that deep-throated way I loved. It was her really-happy-in-a-Sunny-kind-of-way laugh. “It’s going to be special for you. We’re going to make it a bonfire that kids will talk about for years to come.”
She sat on the edge of my bed, and I reached for her hand. As always, it was there.
“I thought we could put lights in the trees, make like a little canopy,” she said. “We could do blue and white lights. Would that be good?”
I sat up in the dark and leaned against my pillow. “That would be the best! I’m so excited. I’m so happy, Mama.” The moonlight shone through the curtains just enough for me to see the blond curls falling around her ears.
She squeezed my hand. “Good. I want you to always be happy. You’re so special, Desi. I know great things are going to happen for you.”
The way she said it, with such certainty and conviction, I almost believed she could make it happen through sheer will. “I hope so.”
She nuzzled my nose. “I know so. In fact…” She took a sip of her cocktail, her lips turning up in a grin. “I heard from a little birdie that you got the most votes for cheerleader.”
“What?” Stunned, I sat up all the way. “Mama, what? Who told you that?” I couldn’t believe Robin told her! My stomach knotted, and I couldn’t figure out why. Was it because Robin got to be the one to tell her and not me? Or was it because now that she knew, we could share in the excitement together?
Sunny chuckled. “Just a little birdie. Someone who cares about you and is happy for you. Like me.”
A cough, guttural and raspy, echoed through the trailer. Mr. Tom must be getting some water. For the briefest of moments, I felt Mama’s hand clutch mine a little tighter.
“I better go see if he needs anything.” Mama tipped her glass and finished her cocktail. When she kissed me, I could smell the sweet mixture of lemon and vodka. It made me happy. It was Sunny.
“Good night, my Desi. Sleep well.”
When she reached the door, I felt anxious and didn’t want her to go. “Mama?”
She turned, a little wobbly. “Yes, kitten?”
“Are you happy? I’m so happy, and I want you to be happy too.”
“Yes, Desi. Sunny’s just a tad-tired tonight. Oodling is hard work.”
“I know. But we did good, huh, Mama?”
“You bet we did.” She gently shut the door.
I felt sad for some reason.
But then I thought about the bonfire, and the sadness went away. My last thoughts before falling asleep were filled with images of blue and white tiki lights, happy birds sporting indigo eyeliner, and oodling French revolutionaries…
Chapter Five
A T-Shirt That Said Boogie
Robin
As we drove up Desi’s driveway, I imagined I was a queen and my royal colors were blue and white. All the twinkling lights were celebrating me, and the huge buffet tables overflowing with food were in my honor. The heads turning eagerly to welcome me were—
“I don’t know about this.” An unpleasant voice in a disagreeable tone crashed my fantasy. “Some of those kids look like they’ve already graduated,” fretted my mother. “And is that? Oh my.”
Mama tapped the brakes. How embarrassing. I quickly snapped out of my fantasy as I realized that the turned heads weren’t to welcome me but to stare in confusion as my mother lurched along the driveway.
Okay. Back to reality. I wasn’t the queen. Desi was, but I was okay with that because that made me at the very least a princess. Or maybe top dog in the queen’s royal court. The bottom line was that because of Desi, my whole life had been upgraded. Like this terrific party that was going to be amazing if only my mother would just stop talking.
“It is,” she said. “Robin, I see people drinking beer. Oh Lord, I’m thankful your father isn’t here to see this.”
“Just let me off here. That way you don’t have to see it either.”
“Don’t get snappy with me.” She shot me a look. A stern look.
I figured I’d better low key it, or this drop off could escalate. “Sorry. I just need to find Desi so we can change.” Everyone had come straight from the football game, so I needed to replace my Pepster skirt with my new Chic jeans. “Mama, I’m not gonna do anything bad. It’s just a party, and I’m spending the weekend with Desi. I’ll be at church Sunday morning.”
My mother said nothing. Just let out a long, beleaguered sigh.
I scanned the crowd, searching for a particular blue-and-white football jersey. When I saw Dorky Dean with his blue-and-white number forty-two tucked precisely into his blue jeans, I pointed. “Look, there’s Dean. He wouldn’t be here if there was any kind of mischief going on, now would he?” Good gracious, he couldn’t even be cool and wear it out like the other players.
I grabbed my bag with my jeans and overnight clothes and glanced again at her, but there was still no change in her expression. Time to pull out the big guns.
“You like Desi, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.” Finally, a break in the ice. Albeit a small one, as she continued to scan the crowd as if she expected a police raid at any minute.
And then out of nowhere, an animated Desi rushed to the car. “Hey, Mrs. Mabel! Did you see the game?”
“I did. It was very exciting. And you’re a very good cheerleader.”
“Thanks.” Desi grinned sheepishly. “I messed up on the Razzmatazz cheer. Did you see that? In the third quarter?”
“No,” Mama said. “I’m sure no one noticed.”
“The second I messed up, I looked into the bleachers, and there was Robin, doing the motions with her hands. So I was able to get back on track, thank goodness.” She leaned into the car, reached over my mother, and high-fived me.
I started the chant. “We’ve got Razzmatazz!”
Desi joined in. “Pep, punch, and pizzazz!”
We finished with a raucous “Hey, you, you’ve been had!”
Mama chuckled. “Okay, okay. You girls have fun tonight.” She looked pointedly at me. “And behave.”
“Oh, yes, ma’am,” Desi assured. “We will. Mama will have her home Sunday before church. Oh, and she wants to have coffee with you one day next week if you’re free. She said she’d come to the library and pick you up.”
Mama’s eyes widened. “Well, how nice. I’ll look forward to that. And, Desi, we’d love for you to come to church with us one Sunday.”
“Mama.” I rolled my eyes, mortified.
“I’d love to! Thanks.” Desi beamed. “How about this Sunday?”
†††
We were in Desi’s room, changing into our Chic jeans. The bonfire was raging, and we could hear music and kids laughing through the window. “You don’t have to go to church, Desi. Sorry you got hoodwinked into that.”
“No, I want to go.” As Desi slipped on her size three jeans, I tried—I really did—not to compare. But it was hard as I yanked and tugged at my size nines, and still couldn’t get them zipped.
“Lay on the bed,” Desi ordered.
She pushed me onto the bed, and we both giggled as she helped me pull on the zipper. We started laughing so hard, I had to push her off. “Stop,” I cackled. “I can’t suck in when I’m laughing so hard.” And there we went again, rolling in another fit of hilarity.
Desi was the only person in the world who didn’t judge me. I couldn’t explain it, but it was like Desi saw me for me. She saw me first, before the fat me. Sometimes I felt like she didn’t think I was fat at all.
“Here.” She unscrewed the top off a lip gloss. “Habanero Heat. What do you think?”
“It’s really red. I like it. What is haba… habo…” I puckered so she could put some on my lips.
“Oh, hell’s bells, you need to come to New Mexico with me so I can school you on hot peppers. Come on—let’s go.”
I followed her toward the door.
“Guess what?” she turned, grinning.
“What?”
“Adam’s here.”
“Adam with the big belt buckle and cowboy hat?” As we walked outside, the humidity hit us like a hammer. I could feel my hair frizzing on the spot.
“Yep. He’s going to be a star one day. And he’s writing me a song—”
I didn’t hear the rest. All at once we were swathed in the sounds of a party in full swing. While I could see Desi’s lips moving, all I heard was Hank Williams Junior singing about New York City and how “A Country Boy Can Survive.”
Girls and boys swayed to the music, lost in the glory of their own small-town mantra. Even Claire, who despised Shady Gully, was arm in arm with Mitch and Daryl. Claire, like me, wore a blue-and-white Pepster top. Like me, she hadn’t made cheerleader. The difference was, I was Desi’s best friend, and she wasn’t.
“Hey, Desi! Robin!” Dolly, the bounciest of the Bouncy girls, waved at us. “Y’all come here.”
Yep, suddenly I was a cool kid in great demand. A relevant part of the Shady Gully High hierarchy. As Desi headed to her fellow cheerleaders, I took a moment to ponder the wonder of it all.
I loved Desi, I really did, but something had changed this summer in the way I thought of myself. I didn’t hate myself so much. Whether it was because Desi loved me back, or because I didn’t feel so alone anymore, or because I had something to look forward to every day, somehow I felt more included and significant. And it made all the difference.
Even to the point I didn’t need to follow Desi over to the Bouncy girls and suffer through their lame points of view. I felt fine meandering around the bonfire on my own.
I reached into an ice chest and dug around for a Coke, only a little surprised to see Mama had been right, and there was beer at the party. My hand rested on an ice-cold Miller Lite for a moment.
“Better not.” A voice bellowed behind me.
I pulled out a Dr Pepper and glared at Dorky Dean with his jersey perfectly tucked into his pants. “What’s it to you? What are you gonna do?”
Dean grinned. “I doubt I’d do much, but you can bet that Jesse and James over there are eagle-eyeing everything.”
Jesse and James were Dolly’s twin brothers. They were a couple of years ahead of us but acted like they were the elders of Shady Gully High. Their dad, Brother Wyatt, was the pastor at Shady Gully Baptist Church, so I suppose they were raised to be high and mighty.
“They don’t scare me. Damn outlaws.”
“Whoa, listen to the bad girl cursing.” Dean whistled. “What a rebel.”
I took a long sip of my Dr Pepper and scowled at him.
“Are you and Desi going out with anybody this year?” Dean dipped his head, suddenly fascinated with his size twenty shoes. “I see she’s googly eyed over the Cowboy Crooner over there.”
I forced my gaze away from his unusually large feet, and spied Adam strumming his guitar, humming a tune, and watching Desi—who was indeed watching him back.
“And once again I ask, what’s it to you?” I rolled my eyes and walked away, leaving him and his giant feet standing alone by the ice chest.
I spotted Sunny, who chatted with Lenny, the quarterback. I thought how coordinated she must be to move her hips to Hank Williams Junior while holding a conversation. She had on tight jeans and cowboy boots and a T-shirt that said BOOGIE.
