Me: But his life isn’t normal right now. What am I supposed to talk to him about? What I saw on television?
Dr. Lesaux: Maybe.
Me: That’s so . . . lame.
Dr. Lesaux: If you want him to respect your ways of coping, you’re going to have to respect his.
Me: It makes me so anxious. It’s like the whole elephant thing.
Dr. Lesaux: What elephant thing?
Me: Like the elephant in the room and no one’s talking about it, or even looking at it. You know, everyone’s just pretending it isn’t there. Were you staring at my pupils? I should never have said anything about them.
Dr. Lesaux: No. I wasn’t aware that I was. No. Give your dad some time. You’ve had more time to adjust to all of this than he has. He’s just getting started.
Me: I guess, but—
Dr. Lesaux: How’s your mom doing?
Me: Hard to really tell. She’s okay, I guess. Better than before. At least she’s slowed down with the skin cancer articles. She was faxing me new articles, like, every other day. I’m worried she may be drinking too much.
Dr. Lesaux: Why do you say that?
Me: I don’t know. It’s not like I have proof or anything. She hasn’t really done anything, but I know her. It’s how she handles stress: She drinks. I mean, I do the same thing, so . . . I know how it works . . . I don’t know. I can’t do anything about it, not until she’s out here and I can watch her. Maybe I’m just being paranoid, although I suspect she tries to be on her best behavior when she’s around me.
Dr. Lesaux: Have you tried to talk to her about it?
Me: No, not yet. I don’t even know what I would say . . . it’s probably nothing. I mean, a couple of drinks at night never hurt anybody . . . maybe I have been drinking too much.
Dr. Lesaux: How much do you drink?
Me: I don’t know . . . couple drinks a night.
Dr. Lesaux: And do you feel you really need those couple drinks a night?
Me: Need?
Beep-beep-beep.
Me: Time.
Dr. Lesaux: Let’s not forget where we left off. I think we should look into this drinking a little further.
Me: Yeah, okay, well, see ya next week. Nice alarm, by the way.
Dr. Lesaux: I thought of you when I bought it. This one sounds a little less intrusive, don’t you think?
Me: Um . . . not really.
Dr. Lesaux: Darn it. I’ll see you next week. Oh, wait, let me get you that handout . . . here, look this over. It doesn’t all relate to you, but I think you’ll find at least a couple things helpful.
Me: Thanks.
Dr. Lesaux: And don’t forget to work on your relaxation exercises.
Me: Why? Don’t I seem relaxed?
OVER A DRINK WITH DINNER:
Adam: How was your day?
Me: Good. What do you want to drink?
Adam: I’m just going to have a Diet Coke.
Me: You don’t want any wine? I opened a bottle of Pinot Grigio.
Adam: No, Diet Coke is fine.
Me: I had therapy today.
Adam: How was it?
Me: Well, interesting. Toward the end of the session—
Adam: Could you get me a napkin?
Me: You’ve got one. Under your plate. Anyway, toward the end of the session we started talking about alcohol—
Adam: This chicken is really moist. Did you do something different to it?
Me: It’s organic.
Adam: This isn’t tofu, is it?
Me: No, it’s chicken, but it’s raised hormone free or something. I don’t know. I got it at Whole Foods. So—
Adam: It’s super moist.
Me: Do you think I drink too much?
Adam: What do you mean?
Me: Do you think I drink too much?
Adam: How much do you drink?
Me: You know. You see me. Do you think I’m an alcoholic?
Adam: Yes.
Me: You do?
Adam: I’m kidding. I—remind me, why are we having this discussion?
Me: It was just something that came up today in therapy. Got me thinking.
Adam: Always dangerous . . . no, of course I don’t think you’re an alcoholic. I mean, you could quit if you had to.
Me: I could?
Adam: Sure you could.
Me: You think?
Adam: You’re gonna have to quit when you’re pregnant.
Me: Yeah . . . but who knows when that’ll be.
Adam: If you’re worried about it, quit.
Me: No, I just, I don’t know.
Adam: Quit for a week. See how you feel.
Me: Yeah. Maybe I will.
Adam: Good.
Me: What will you give me if I quit?
Adam: Nothing.
Me: Oh.
Adam: You’ll have the satisfaction of knowing you were able to quit.
Me: Great.
Adam: So, you gonna quit?
Me: What? You mean, like, now? I’m . . . I’m gonna do it . . . I’ve just . . . you know . . . gotta figure out when . . . and stuff.
Adam: Okay.
Me:
First Day of School
Ring, ring.
Me: Ad? Ad? Can you get that?
Ring, ring.
Me: Ad! Get the phone! I have sunscreen all over my—
Ring, ring.
Me: Hello?
Other: Good morning.
Me: Hey, Mom.
Mom: Adam left for work yet?
Me: Not yet.
Mom: Should I call back later? After he’s gone?
Me: No, it’s fine. We’re not, like, having a family breakfast or anything. I’m just putting on sunscreen. I was thinking of wearing shorts today. Thought I might expose my legs to a little fresh air. Adam’s right—they really are the color of skim milk. They’re bluish . . . all this sunscreen—it takes, like, half a bottle to cover my legs. Maybe I should just wear pants to the hospital and be done with it.
Mom: The hospital? Did something happen? I thought you just had a checkup.
Me: Today’s my first day of volunteering.
Mom: Oh, that’s right. I can’t wait to hear how it goes. I think it’s great you’re doing this. I just hope it isn’t too depressing. Should I call back later? I don’t want you to forget where you left off with the sunscreen.
Me: No, that’s okay, I’m an expert. I can talk and rub at the same time—what are you up to?
Mom: Well, I worked in the garden some this morning.
Me: Still mulching?
Mom: Yes, if you can believe it. I don’t feel like I’ve made a dent in that mulch pile. I bought too much, that’s what it is. I guess I’d rather have too much than too little. I hate running out.
Me: Nothin’ like runnin’ out of dried shit. Remember when I used to play in the manure piles with Nina Pollock? Do you remember that?
Mom: Was that with Nina? I thought you did that when we lived in Kentucky.
Me: No, Georgia. Remember? Nina lived across the street from that farm. Remember? And it always had a humongous pile of manure next to the barn—God, that was fun. We used to climb to the top of that pile and just fly down the front of it. I remember going back to her house just absolutely covered in shit, and it didn’t even smell. Not until we took a bath . . . the good ol’ days.
Mom: Are you sure that was in Georgia?
Me: Positive. We moved to Atlanta when I was five. How could I have been sliding down a pile of manure before I was five?
Mom: Huh. I could have sworn you did that in Kentucky.
Me: Speaking of, why don’t you hire someone to do the mulching? Your back’s gonna go out.
Mom: I’m careful.
Me: It’s not about being careful. You just shouldn’t be doing it. And you can afford to hire someone.
Mom: I kind of like doing it. It’s therapeutic. Very Zen.
Me: Yeah, I guess it’s like how I feel about dusting.
Mom: And everything
’s bad for my back these days . . . did you get really sunburned in Cancun?
Me: What?
Mom: When you went to Cancun after your senior year, did you get a lot of sun?
Me: Um . . . yeah. I mean, I wore sunscreen—I had to, or else I would have been burned to a crisp—but, yeah, I still got a lot of sun. Why? What made you think of that? What the hell does mulching have to do with Cancun?
Mom: Nothing. I was just thinking that that could have been the reason you got melanoma. I was trying to figure out when you could have gotten a lot of sun on your stomach, and then I remembered Cancun and thought that might be the answer because you wore a two-piece bathing suit.
Me: Right . . . ?
Mom: So, you probably got a lot of sun on your stomach—when you were a kid you never wore a two-piece. Your stomach was never exposed.
Me: I wore a two-piece when I was younger. I had that one I always wore to Raging Waters. The one with the stomach cut out. It was blue, and it had Miss Piggy in the upper-right corner. I must have been around ten or so. It was one of my chubby stages, because I remember my stomach always hung out of the cutout.
Mom: I remember the Miss Piggy suit, but I thought it was a one-piece . . .
Me: How the hell did we get on this topic?
Mom: I was just trying to figure out when you got so much sun.
Me: I never got that much sun. In high school, whenever I went to the beach, I always wore sunscreen.
Mom: But you did get some bad burns.
Me: Yeeesss. So?
Mom: What?
Me: Huh? What?
Mom: I didn’t say anything.
Me: Actually, I should probably go. I need to get all my sunscreen on, and I’ve gotta leave for the hospital in, like, twenty minutes.
Mom: Love you—oh, by the way, your father and I were thinking of coming out for a visit.
Me: Oh. Great.
Mom: We were thinking maybe the beginning of November. We were planning on coming out for your birthday, but I was afraid that would be a little too soon for your father to travel. Sitting, for any long period of time, is hard for him—are you guys going to be around in November?
Me: I’ll check with Adam, but I’m pretty sure we’re around. I don’t think we have anything planned.
Mom: Well, talk to Adam. Your father and I don’t want to be an inconvenience.
Me: Mom. Please.
Mom: I’ll let you go. We’ll talk about hotel options later.
Me: You guys are not staying in a hotel. We have plenty of room at the house.
Mom: Adam needs his privacy.
Me: What are you talking about? It’s not like he walks around the house naked or anything. You’re staying with us. That’s what the guest room is for. No one else ever uses it.
Mom: We’ll talk about it later.
Me: Fine, but you’re staying with us.
Mom: Get back to your sunscreen.
Me: But you’re staying with us.
Mom: If that will make you happy. I know you—if we stay at your place, you’ll clean for a week before we get there.
Me: Well, I’d do that anyway. I’ve really gotta go.
Mom: Love you.
Me: You, too.
Click.
Me: Didn’t you hear the phone ringing a second ago? My mom’s crazy. Just thought you should know.
Adam: What happened? I mean, I agree with you—I’m just curious why you decided to say it.
Me: It was so weird . . . we were talking about mulching, and then all of a sudden she starts asking me questions about my trip to Cancun.
Adam: I have so many questions. How did you get on the topic of mulching, and what trip?
Me: My mom’s mulching her garden, and I was telling her she should hire someone—she was referring to the trip I took right after high school.
Adam: What did she want to know about the trip?
Me: I’m not exactly sure. Something about sunburns, I guess.
Adam: Sunburns.
Me: Yeah—oh, and they’re coming to visit.
Adam: Who?
Me: My parents. They’re thinking about the beginning of next month. Do we have anything going on?
Adam: I’ll be out of town.
Me: When?
Adam: When are they coming?
Me: Very funny. They’re not that bad.
Adam: I was kidding. November sounds fine.
Me: So . . . how do I look?
Adam: I see you decided to let the out-of-bound stakes out for a little fresh air.
Me: Do my legs really look that white? Do they look ridiculous?
Adam: Not at all. And this is not a beauty contest.
Me: I just want to look good for my first day of volunteering—helping—whatever it is I’m doing.
Adam: You look great. Have a good time.
Me: Thanks—I’m off to make a difference.
Adam: I love you.
Me: Love you, too.
Adam: I’m proud of you.
Me: I haven’t done anything yet.
Adam: You will.
No . . . What?
After a quick lesson on mastectomy bras and prostheses, a crash course on Murad face products, and an unfortunate study of vaginal lubricants and clitoral stimulants, I feel more than ready to start working for free. And even though I am a novice in the ways of wig maintenance and support stockings, I figure I can learn as I go . . .
Customer: Excuse me, can you help me? Do you work here?
Me: I’m a volunteer, actually, but if I can’t answer your question, Amy can help you.
Customer: Well, I’ll tell you, I have two young sons, both play Little League, and I need to get some sunscreen for them. Something that they won’t sweat right through. Do you know which of these would be best?
Me: I highly recommend Blue Lizard. It uses zinc as its UVA blocker. You always want to get something with UVA and UVB protection. The main UVA blockers are Parsol 1789 (avobenzone), which is a chemical blocker, and zinc and titanium, which are physical blockers. Sunscreens with physical UVA blockers must contain a large concentration, more than five percent, of zinc or titanium dioxide in order for them to be really effective.
Customer: Okay—
Me: And remember, if you’re perspiring, pretty much any sunscreen is going to need to be reapplied every forty minutes to an hour. Even the waterproof ones don’t work much longer than that. And the skin must be dry when the sunscreen is applied. So make sure you towel off your boys completely, at halftime or whatever, before reapplying. Also, make sure you put enough of the lotion on them. You have to use more then you might think. I’ve seen so many people squirt a little dab on their hands, rub their hands together, then kinda pat themselves. That’s not going to do anything. You’ve gotta really rub it in completely. Get it everywhere.
Customer: Yeah, I—
Me: You probably need about what, ten bottles to start with? You’ll go through it pretty fast.
Customer: Actually, I’ll just get the one bottle for now, see if my boys like it.
Me: But—
Customer: I appreciate your help.
Me: Sorry. I’m sorry, I totally overloaded you with information. This is my first day volunteering, and I’m a little overzealous. I’m just a big fan of sunscreen—it’s really important to protect your kids when they’re young. Especially if they’re fair, like you—I’m going to stop talking now. Let me give you these brochures. They’ll answer any other questions you might have. And Amy can ring this up for you.
Customer: Thank you.
Me: How did you hear about our store?
Customer: I saw one of your posters down on the third floor.
Me: Oh.
Customer: Thanks for all your help.
Me: My pleasure. Hope your boys like the sunscreen—and make sure you put it everywhere. Don’t forget the back of their necks, their hands—
Customer: Their ears.
Me: Exactly.
Cust
omer: Yeah, or this can happen . . .
Me: Oh my God, she has no . . .
With a flip of her wrist, she brushed her hair away from her face just long enough to reveal her ear.
Me: . . . except . . . there is no ear, none to speak of, not really. Just the tiniest tip of a lobe, a bit of flesh more likely to be mistaken for a skin tag than recognized as the remnants of an ear. Where’s her . . . where’s your ear? What the—? Okay, stay calm. Don’t look away, but do not stare. I repeat, do not stare. I need to get in for a better look, though . . . is there just a hole, or what, exactly, is going on? Could it sustain an earring, supposing she wanted to wear two? How does she keep her sunglasses from sitting cock-eyed? Can she use earphones? Surely not the wraparound ones. There’s so many questions . . . I probably shouldn’t ask to see it again. “Do it again—come on, pleeeeeeeease!”
Customer: Melanoma.
Me: Me too.
Customer: Where?
Me: Stomach.
Customer: You’re so young.
Me: Yeah, well.
Customer: Take care of yourself. Lots of sunscreen.
Me: Yeah, don’t we know it. Good luck to you and your boys.
Customer: Thanks. You too. I’m Beth, by the way. I didn’t catch your name.
Me: Hillary.
Beth: Hope to see you again, Hillary.
Me: Yeah, you too, Beth. You too.
Ah, Beth. Beth and I go way back. I love Beth. Beth and her two sons. Beth is . . . Beth loves to . . . well . . . you know Beth. Oh, she is crazy, that Beth is. You must know her. Red hair, about shoulder length; blue eyes. Beth. Beth. B-e-t-h . . . she has no left ear . . . yeah, that Beth.
OVER DINNER:
Adam: How was work today?
Me: Work?
Adam: You’re not getting paid, but it’s still work.
Me: Good point.
Adam: When are they going to start paying you, by the way?
Me: I just started. What, you think I should really work there? Adam: I bet you could run that place.
Me: Yeah, but I don’t want to. Work was good. Really good. I met some really amazing people . . . met a woman with one ear.
Adam: Excuse me?
Me: She had melanoma on her ear. So all she had left was a—
Adam: I’m eating.
Pale Girl Speaks Page 14
