That was something she hadn’t noticed about him before. Vicky didn’t trust people who smiled without showing their teeth, unless they had good cause to, like her granddaddy whose teeth all rotted out of his head because he was too afraid to see a dentist. But that certainly wasn’t the case with this guy. People who smiled without showing their teeth were hiding something. What was fucking Prince Charming trying to conceal? Vicky guessed it was boredom and impatience with this unexpected intrusion in his life–namely her. This only made Vicky want to irritate him all the more. She quickly maneuvered herself in front of him, successfully cutting him off before he reached the stairway that led to the upstairs apartments. She stood just inches from him, face to face and eye to eye, resolutely blocking his way.
“I don’t believe I caught your name,” she said.
“I don’t believe I pitched it.”
“Well?” Vicky said waiting for the pitch. He said nothing but merely held her gaze with that same smile that revealed no teeth and very little else except a smug sort of confidence.
“Have a good evening,” he finally said with a polite nod that almost made Vicky forget she was being snubbed. He reclaimed his hallway with a quick stride right past her, creating a breeze as cool as his demeanor.
Vicky thought nothing would have stopped him from getting up those stairs and away from her as quickly as possible, but curiously something did stop him. It was the sound of someone descending the stairs. Vicky had only met Allison a few times but already she recognized the light skipping trademark of her footsteps.
The countenance of this chilly Prince Charming completely changed when Allison came into view. A spontaneous smile broke across his face that not only showed his teeth, but ignited his brilliant blue eyes. It was as if he’d suddenly been plugged into an electric socket. Everything about him came to life. The transformation only lasted a few moments, however. As soon as Allison spotted Frank and greeted him with her usual friendly smile, he called on all the self-restraint he could muster and resumed his icy distance.
Vicky saw it. He was in love with Allison, didn’t want to be, and was trying hard not to be. Vicky guessed it was because she was engaged to another man, but it was even more than that. He didn’t think the feeling was mutual. He didn’t think he stood a chance. He wasn’t really as confident as he wanted everyone to think he was. That was it! It had to be. She did love him though. Vicky could tell. Allison blushed and her voice cracked when she greeted him. It was a dead give-away. She cleared her throat and touched her cheeks, as if to make the blushing subside. She regained her composure almost as quickly as he did.
Couldn’t this man see that Allison was crazy about him? Couldn’t Prince Charming put on his armor, mount his steed, and come after her in some selfless act of bravery–in one honest undying profession of love? He didn’t even have to scale the walls of the castle to rescue this damsel in distress. All he had to do was walk across the hall. But there was a huge dragon to slay first and it was breathing its fiery breath on both of them. The dragon’s name was fear.
“Frank, have you met our new neighbor, Vicky Dooley?” Allison inquired, seemingly pleased there was a third party there to distract them from each other.
“Yes, just now as a matter of fact.”
“Vicky this is Frank Hamilton. King of Camelot.”
“Nice to meet you, Frank,” Vicky said with her own sarcasm and mocking bow.
“Nice meeting you too,” he said with yet another obligatory handshake.
“Funny, you don’t look like a Frank,” Vicky said.
“Well, that’s my name.”
“Vicky moved in last week,” Allison chirped a little nervously.
“Welcome,” he said with that perfunctory smile.
“She tends bar at Lamasco’s River Inn.”
“So I’ve been told.” He looked at his watch. “If you ladies will excuse me, I really must be going. I’ve had a very long day,” he said acknowledging them both with a slight bow of his head which made it very clear that their meeting was at an end.
“My day’s just beginning,” Vicky called to him, but he was already halfway up the stairs.
“What’s up his butt?” Vicky asked Allison as soon as they heard the door upstairs shut.
“Who knows? Don’t take it personally. That’s just Frank,” said Allison putting a jacket on and pulling her golden locks out from under the collar. “Where are you headed?”
“The old salt mines. And you?”
“My fiancé’s place. Must be weird going to work at night. I’ve only ever had day jobs before.”
They were about to exit the building when the woeful sound of strings being played slowly and skillfully floated down the stairs and filled the hallway. The strange sound caused Vicky to pause. The music was foreign to her ears–not good, not bad, just unfamiliar.
“What the hell’s that?”
“Frank’s classical music,” Allison said rolling her eyeballs.
“He sure plays it loud. Not that I got anything against loud music. I prefer it that way, but hell, we’re talking about music by a bunch of old dead white guys. Don’t get me wrong, some of my favorite music’s by dead guys–Jim Morrison, Jimmie Hendrix, Buddy Holly, and of course the greatest of the great–the king himself. It’s just that we’re talking dead guys who’ve been dead over a hundred years. We’re talking fucking Beethoven.”
Allison smiled. Her toothy grin was warm and wonderful. There was something about that unrestrained smile that made Vicky decide she liked Allison.
Vicky looked long and hard at Allison’s smiling face as they stepped out into the late evening dusk. “No wonder he loves you. You’re fuckin’ perfect.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You. You’re smart, kind, and pretty. You’re like–Cinderella.”
“Cinderella?”
“See here’s the thing about Cinderella. She was destined to be a princess but she wasn’t afraid to get down and dirty and clean out the fireplace and mop the floor and shit. Now me–I’m more like Sleeping Beauty. I ain’t even awake yet. I won’t be until Prince Charming finds me and plants a big ol’ wet one on me.”
“You’ve read too many romance novels, Vicky. Why do we give men such power over us anyway?” Allison said.
“Well, maybe it ain’t a man exactly I’m waiting for. But something. Hell, I don’t know what.”
“So if I’m Cinderella and you’re Sleeping Beauty, who’s Sally?”
“Snow White. She just wants a house and a bunch a kids. Seven little gnomes she can cook and make beds for and shit.”
“And Barb?”
“Well I’ve only met her once, but I’m guessing she is one of the little gnomes. Sleepy, I think.”
White teeth flashed as Allison laughed, but as the laughter died down she became very solemn. “I don’t know if my prince still loves me. I think I’m driving him crazy with the royal wedding plans.”
“You mean your fiancé?”
“Who else?”
“I wasn’t talking about him. I was talking about that Frank guy.”
“Frank?”
“Yeah, he’s got it bad for you.”
“Oh, no, please don’t tell me you’ve already been inundated with the rumors.”
“Spell that word please,” Vicky said pulling the small spiral notebook and pen out of her jean jacket pocket.
“Inundate. I-N-U-N-D-A-T-E.”
“Thanks,” said Vicky capping the pen, flipping the little notebook shut, and returning them to her pocket. “I ain’t heard no rumors. I just call it as I see it, and the way I see it that guy’s crazy about you.”
“No,” said Allison shaking her head emphatically.
“And what’s more, you’re crazy about him too.”
“No, no, you got it all wrong.”
“Maybe so, but I still say there’s something between you too.”
“Air. That’s all that’s between Frank and me. Just air. Now
I will admit I found him a little attractive at first, but then I got to know him. Have you forgotten I’m in love with Kent and I’m going to marry him?”
Vicky still wasn’t convinced but she set the argument aside for Allison’s sake. They stood for a moment in silence and watched the sun setting over Camelot.
“Ain’t it beautiful?” said Vicky with a sigh.
“Red sky at night, sailor’s delight,” said Allison.
“I love fall,” Vicky exclaimed.
“I hate it. It’s the only time of year I’m really sad” Allison said.
“Why’s that?”
“I guess because the days are getting shorter and everything’s getting ready to die”
“I think there’s something beautiful about a thing just before it dies. I mean look at all them colors bursting forth. Why even this day is dying and look at that gorgeous sunset.” Vicky looked at Allison. Her eyes were straight ahead, still on that sunset, and a smile was still on her face.
Allison always smiled, even while talking about things that were sad to her like falling leaves and short days. She was so careful to always look cheerful. It was the cheerleader in her.
“Oh! I gotta run,” Allison said suddenly, taking a quick glance at her watch.
Vicky waved goodbye to Allison as they parted ways in the parking lot–Vicky to her pick-up truck and Allison to her red Trans Am.
“Later,” Allison shouted back to Vicky with an energetic wave, smiling all the while.
*****
Vicky drove to work that evening thinking of Allison and how she was much too good for that stuck up Frank guy. She’d only known Allison a week, but already it felt like an old friendship, even though Allison was a cheerleader and Vicky was a hood.
She remembered their conversation that first night she moved into Camelot. They were in Allison’s apartment preparing dinner – cutting up vegetables for salad and trying, mostly in vain, to defrost and reheat leftover lasagna that had been in Allison’s freezer for three months.
“This lasagna still feels cool in the middle,” Allison said cutting through the middle of the large casserole slab and touch testing it with her finger. “Let’s try it again,” she said handing the dish to Vicky.
“Maybe them new-fangled microwave ovens ain’t all they’re cracked up to be,” said Vicky who was still learning about microwave ovens, and was about to learn the most important lesson. She stuck the casserole in the microwave with the knife still neatly tucked into the edge of the lasagna.
“Holy shit-fire!” she exclaimed as little sparks of lightening flared and crackled, and Allison practically dived across the room to open that microwave door and put an end to the high frequency electromagnetic eruption.
“Sorry! I done something wrong.”
“No, my fault,” Allison said removing the knife from the casserole and explaining to Vicky about microwaves and metal.
“I hope I didn’t break it.”
“Me too,” Allison said placing the glass casserole dish back in the microwave and quickly pushing this button then that button with a synchronized beeping preceding the noise of a fan-like whir. They both breathed a sigh of relief which ended with laughter.
“I guess we can laugh now. I only moved in a few hours ago and I almost burn the place down,” Vicky moved in closer to the microwave for a better look.
“Careful! Don’t stare into the oven. I’ve heard the radiation may be bad for your eyes.” Allison warned.
“If it’s bad for my eyes then what the hell is it doing to my food?”
“Uh! I hadn’t thought of that,” said Allison, ignoring her own warning and joining Vicky in front of the microwave. “Well, look at it this way. It’s nuking off all the germs.”
The light inside the small oven went off followed by three loud beeps. Allison took the lasagna out and touch tested it again. “I think this is about as warm as we’re going to get it. Let’s see how it tastes.” With that she took a fork and cut a small corner off the casserole. She stuck the bite in her mouth.
“How is it?” Vicky asked
“It doesn’t have much taste left. I think it’s been in the freezer too long.”
Vicky examined the casserole while munching away on a Dorito. She held the large plastic bag of chips in front of Allison’s face. “Want one?”
“Sure.” Allison reached in the bag, pulled out a chip and began munching as she reached into a cabinet and pulled out some plates. “Mmm,” said Allison reaching in the bag again for another chip. “It’s better than the lasagna.”
“Hey, I got an idea. These Doritos here ought to spice up any meal. Let’s sprinkle ‘em over the lasagna. Maybe that’ll help.”
“It couldn’t hurt,” Allison agreed.
So they sprinkled Doritos on top of the lasagna. Vicky was so pleased she could contribute something to the meal. Then she helped Allison set a beautiful table, complete with wine glasses.
“It’s too bad I don’t have any wine,” Allison said taking a can of Fresca out of her refrigerator. This is the closest thing I got. Want some?”
“What kinda soda pop is that? Ain’t ever seen it before.”
“It’s Fresca. It’s a diet drink. It’s got kind of a citrus flavor to it.”
“Shouldn’t drink that shit. It’s bad for you,” Vicky said, pouring some Jack Daniels into her wine glass. “Mind if I smell it?”
“Not at all. Here.” Allison handed her the can of Fresca.
Vicky sniffed it. “If you mixed this with a little bourbon and beer it might make a half way decent whiskey sour. The alcohol might kill off some of them bad chemicals they put in that diet shit.” She reluctantly handed the can back to Allison. “Here. If you wind up with cancer don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Allison just smiled and poured the contents of the can into her wine glass. “I’d like to propose a toast,” Allison said lifting her glass toward Vicky. “To my new neighbor and her new home. Cheers”
They clinked glasses. Vicky offered another toast. “To my new neighbor and new friend.” Was it too soon to call her a friend, Vicky wondered as they lifted their glasses once again. Judging from the smile on Allison’s face she guessed it was okay.
Vicky was right about the three month old lasagna. It was better with the crumbled Doritos on top. Allison said if they stretched their imagination a little it could even pass as a French dish – “old baked pasta amandine, no, aged twice baked pasta amandine” or something of that nature.
It wasn’t until after dinner that Vicky really took some notice of Allison’s place. Vicky noticed people much more so than her surroundings. She could tell you what someone wore on their first meeting, the location of each freckle, mole, and fine line on the face, and how nervous or peaceful they were just by looking at their hands. She could tell a lot about a person just by looking at their shoes. Allison’s black leather pumps weren’t scuffed or skinned at all, with just a slight crease where the toes ended and the arch began. At first seeing them she guessed either they were brand new or Allison was just one of those people who could keep a pair of shoes forever. By observing Allison walk she guessed the latter. She was so light on her feet that it seemed they hardly touched the ground, as she skimmed so quickly and thoughtlessly across the floor. She reminded Vicky of a rock skipping upon the surface of a lake. Unlike Vicky who was very hard on shoes and walked with such heavy footsteps that everyone knew when she was coming. Chief Bobby just hated taking her hunting, not because she wasn’t a great shot but because she was way too noisy. She went barefoot as often as she could. Her feet felt confined and heavy with shoes on.
Vicky noticed things like shoes and hands and the way a person smiled or didn’t. She could hear a person’s emotions in the subtle tones of the voice that most other people couldn’t hear. She could tell how much pain and hardness a person had known by a careful observation of the eyes, but when she left a room she usually couldn’t tell what color the walls or carpet were.
&nb
sp; Vicky was drawn to the tall bookshelf in the corner of the living room, with its framed photographs and plants and rows and rows of books. It was the only thing in the room she really spent much time observing. She looked at Allison’s framed pictures first–Allison standing with her arms outstretched in front of the Eiffel Tower; Allison with her arms around Kent; Allison with her arms around several other girls, all of them pretty and smiling with their hair done up and makeup just right, wearing colorful evening gowns which showed off their tanned shoulders and arms.
“My sorority sisters at one of our big dances,” Allison said as Vicky paused in front of the picture of the girls.
“Oh,” said Vicky remembering the difference between them. Then her eyes went to the one picture from Allison’s distant past–the old family picture–and this once again brought to mind some of the similarities between the two women. Though Allison was chubby with three older siblings and Vicky was skinny and an only child, the picture reminded Vicky of her own childhood and all the pain of growing up with parents who either hated each other or themselves.
“The fat little girl with glasses is me in the fifth grade,” Allison said.
Vicky stood at the picture in brief memorial before moving on to Allison’s plants on the top shelf. Compelled to touch anything green and living, Vicky gently handled one of the plants with leaves that hung down and draped over the books. She enjoyed the texture of the leaves between her thumb and forefinger.
“I ought to have you come water my plants for me. You’re tall enough to reach. I have to get a stool out. Sometimes I neglect the poor things because it’s just too much trouble.”
Vicky’s eyes moved down to the next shelf. She ran her finger across the books, reading each title as she went. The books on the upper shelf, at eye level with Vicky, had titles like Thinking Your Way to Greatness, The Art of Selling, Keys to Success. She pulled one large vinyl bound book off the shelf. It wasn’t a book, but rather a series of cassette tapes.
“My motivational series,” Allison said.
ODD NUMBERS Page 19
