A Tale of Beauty

by Patrick Balzamo

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Alright.” I nod. “I’ll go.”

  “Don’t sound so enthusiastic.” I can hear Matthew’s smirk in his voice. “I’ll come get you around eight?”

  “Yes, that’ll be fine.” Eight? What time are we going to get home?

  “Cool. And on that note, I should get going. See you then?”

  “Yes. Good night, Matthew.” I set the phone down slowly, purposefully, then fold my hands in my lap and close my eyes. I need to be ready for this. I can’t afford to fail. “I will not fail,” I murmur, and cross myself.

  At seven-thirty on Saturday evening, I set down my hairbrush and put on the white turtleneck, black skirt, and black shoes that I’ve decided to wear. It was difficult to settle on something, considering that everything I own is more appropriate to a church social than an evening at a bar; I even considered going out shopping for a new outfit, but I haven’t got the money to spare. Even if I did have the money, I don’t think I would have. I don’t want to misrepresent myself, or play a role. I want to be myself. I go to my dresser, and put on my cross in front of the mirror. I know that I need to strike a balance between that and fitting in, but I think that this should do it.

  I spend the next half hour sitting on my bed and trying to drift into a light meditation, but I’m far too excited and anxious to focus on anything but the fact that I’m about to go out to a bar for the first time in my life with my brother and his friends. Make sure you stay focused, I remind myself. This isn’t just a social gathering. This is a battle, the latest in the war for your brother’s salvation.

  The doorbell rings then, and I stand up slowly. Father, be with me.

  “Took you long enough,” is Matthew’s greeting. I note his navy blue t-shirt and stylish jeans. Am I overdressed? “You ready?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Matthew cranes his neck to look past me. “Mom and Dad aren’t home?”

  “No. When they heard that I was going out, they decided that they would too.”

  “Cool. Where were they going?”

  “Dinner and a movie, I think.”

  “Classic.” We walk toward his car. “Hey, just to let you know, Vanessa and Shane can’t make it. He had to work and she’s sick.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad. I was looking forward to meeting them.”

  Matthew looks surprised. “Really?”

  “Of course.” I smile. “They’re your friends: I’m sure that they’re nice people.” And if they aren’t, I can’t very well start to unravel their influence until I know something about them, can I?

  “I think we might have different definitions of a ‘nice’ person,” he says, and opens the passenger door for me. “There you go.”

  “Thank you.” I hear a crinkling sound as I sit down, and find a candy wrapper on the seat.

  “Ah, sorry about that.” Matthew takes the wrapper from me and tosses it out the window.

  At the first red light, he looks over at me. “We’re just going to pick up Lucy first. She’s on the way.”

  “That’s fine.”

  About ten minutes later, Matthew pulls into the driveway of a condominium complex that, from the outside at least, looks very expensive. A woman walks toward the car; she has long blonde hair and would be tall even without her stiletto heels; her dress is black, short, and form-fitting, and as she lifts her hand to wave back at Matthew, her silver bracelet catches my eye.

  The woman gets into the car without so much as a glance at me, and I watch her ease herself into the backseat in the rear-view mirror. Matthew, much less subtle, leans around his seat and grins. “Evening, Luce. Wardrobe malfunction imminent?”

  “You wish. And I’ve told you not to call me that.” Her voice is soft, but not at all sweet.

  “Did you? I must’ve forgot.” Matthew starts guiding the car back onto the street. “This is Chastity, by the way.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” I say, and turn in my seat to offer her my hand. The seat belt stops me halfway, though, and Lucy’s mouth twists into an amused smile.

  “Enchanted,” she says. Both her hands remain in her lap, and I feel my face reddening as I turn back.

  “We’re going to that place just off St. Lawrence,” Matthew says. “That cool with you?”

  I watch Lucy’s reflection wrinkle its nose. “That underground pit?”

  “Nah, the one a few blocks up from the pit.”

  “Oh, that one.” Lucy crosses her legs. “It’s alright, I guess, although I don’t understand why we couldn’t go to a nice hotel instead.”

  “I’m not dressed for it,” Matthew replies.

  “You’re never dressed for it.” Lucy meets my eyes in the mirror, and I turn my gaze back to the road immediately. “At least your sister seems to know enough to make herself presentable before she leaves the house.”

  “Thank you,” I say, though I still don’t dare to face even her reflection. “I don’t think that it’s our business to tell Matthew how to dress, though. He should wear what he’s most comfortable with.”

  A silence follows until Lucy laughs suddenly a few moments later. “Absolutely priceless.”

  Priceless? I turn to Matthew. He doesn’t look at me, but I can tell that he’s holding back his own laughter. “You thought she was serious?” His question is more of a statement.

  I look down at the scattered debris on the floor of the car and try to will myself to project an air of dignity. “I’m sorry.”

  “Please don’t be,” Lucy says. “You’re very entertaining.”

  I do my best to ignore her.

  “Was this the place that served me that God-awful Manhattan?” Lucy asks as we descend the short flight of stairs into the bar. “Because if it is, I’m waiting in the car.”

  “Nah, it’s not.” Matthew nudges Lucy, which nearly causes her to stumble and earns him a glare. “I promised you we’d never go there again, didn’t I?”

  “You’re a man. I don’t expect you to keep your promises.”

  “Excuse me,” I say, partly out of curiosity but mostly to remind them that I’m still there. “Which place are you talking about?”

  “Just some place we went to once,” Matthew says.

  “It does seem to have made an impression on you.”

  “It was just that bad.” Lucy says without turning around. “I’m sure that you could tell us similar stories about bars that you’ve been to, couldn’t you?”

  “Well, actually ...” I trail off as soon as I realize that informing Lucy that this is my first visit to a bar would only be inviting her ridicule.

  “Chastity’s not that kind of girl.” Matthew overtakes Lucy in a few quick strides and opens the door for us. “After you, ladies.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” Lucy turns her head just enough for me to watch the corner of her mouth curl upward. “She’s still a virgin.” She walks through the door without so much as a glance at Matthew.

  “She’s got a way with words,” Matthew says under his breath. As I pass him on my way into the bar, he touches my arm. “Hey. Is she going too far?”

  I smile and place my other hand over his. “I’m alright, but I do appreciate you looking out for me.”

  “Yeah, well, Mom would kill me if I sent you home scarred for life or anything.” He gives me a gentle push toward where Lucy’s standing, a few steps beyond the door. “Go on, find us a table. I’ll get the drinks. Luce, what’ll you have?”

  “A martini. I don’t trust your memory.”

  “Chastity?”

  “Oh, I’m not sure ...” I glance around. “Don’t they have a menu, or something?”

  Lucy laughs, and I tense up. “A Shirley Temple might suit her best, I think,” she says, and even though I’m not quite sure what a Shirley Temple is, I realize that I’ve been insulted.

  Matthew ignores her. “I’ll just get you some ginger ale or something. Sound good?”

  “Oh, yes. That’ll be fine.” I smile at him, a
nd the expression remains frozen on my face until he’s almost halfway to the bar.

  “Is there something that you need to tell Matthew?” Lucy asks as I sit down across from her. “I’m sure you could still catch him before he orders.”

  “No, it’s fine.” I place my hands in my lap, then move them onto the table. Lucy, for her part, is leaning back in her seat and tapping her fingernails on the table; the glittery nail polish that she’s painted them with is striking even in the dim light.

  “So, tell me about yourself, Chastity.”

  I lick my lips and wish that Matthew would get back with the drinks. “What would you like to know?”

  “Are you really going to make me ask you questions?” Lucy sighs. “Alright. Do you work, or are you still at school?”

  “I’m actually taking a break from school, until I decide what I want to study. I’ve started degrees in religious studies and business administration, but I’m not sure that I want to continue with either of them.” After a moment, I add: “Well, I’m pretty sure that I don’t want to continue with the business one. It wasn’t a good fit.”

  “I could have told you that, and I’ve known you for half an hour.” Lucy runs her index fingernail along the surface of the table. “Are you working somewhere at least? Saving up some money?”

  “Well, not exactly. I spend a lot of my time volunteering at a mission downtown, with the homeless?” When she doesn’t reply, I add: “It’s very rewarding.”

  “Yes, and you can certainly take that to the bank.”

  I meet her eyes. “Most definitely. To the only bank that matters.”

  Lucy chuckles. “Unbelievable.” Suddenly, she leans across the table, and I flinch back from her glare. “Please tell me this choir bitch routine is an act.”

  “Choir ...” I clear my throat. “I don’t know what —”

  “Shut up.” Her eyes move over my face, and her upper lip curls back in something that isn’t quite a snarl. “Is it a power thing for you?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “This religion garbage. It can’t be that ...” She sits back and laughs. “Jesus Christ, are you really not playing?”

  “Playing what? I don’t understand.”

  Matthew returns with our drinks before Lucy can reply, and I jump back as he sets my ginger ale down in front of me. “You okay?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I say, and take a sip of my drink. “Thank you, Matthew.”

  “No problem.” He takes the empty place beside Lucy. “I hope you didn’t miss me too much.”

  “Chastity was telling me all about her volunteer work.” Lucy takes a sip of her drink. “Very ... commendable.”

  “Yeah, she’s been involved with them since she was, what, fifteen?” Matthew grins. “It’s better than the stuff I was into when I was fifteen.”

  “And the things that I did back then made your ‘stuff’ look like an episode of Sesame Street.” Lucy sounds proud of this fact.

  “Ah, well.” Matthew shrugs and takes a gulp of his drink. “We can’t all be good.”

  “Would we want to?” Lucy asks.

  I look at her, this woman who speaks of sin as though it’s a game and goodness as though it’s stupidity; watching her interact with Matthew, I’ve come to understand something about their relationship. Lucy has something over him. Some control — it’s not direct: he’d rebel against that. Influence. That’s it, and it’s certainly not bringing him any closer to salvation. I watch Lucy sip her martini delicately, and close my left hand into a fist under the table.

  “Were you going to say something, Chastity?” Lucy asks. Her bracelet jangles softly as she runs her hand through her hair.

  “No,” I reply. Not yet. I won’t move against you now, but I will soon. If Matthew is to be saved, you must be neutralized.

  Sue

  EVEN WHEN I worked, I would spend days off watching TV and munching on a box of sugary cereal. I blame my parents: they would stay out late on Friday nights and not get up until Saturday afternoon. I made a game of seeing how loud I could pump the TV before they screamed at me. If they’d had enough to drink, I could get the volume all the way to max before that happened.

  I’m almost out of cereal when the phone rings. I look at the caller ID, and see that it’s someone calling on the intercom. If it’s some moron with the wrong apartment, I’m so going to blast him. “Yeah?”

  I’m about to hang up when Diana’s voice comes through. “It’s me,” she says briskly.

  Great. I can always use a visit from the Queen Mother. “Come on up.” I toss the phone aside and turn off the TV. This is going to be bad enough without her catching me watching Bugs Bunny. A few seconds later, Diana knocks on the door, and I shout: “It’s open!”

  I hear the door creak open, but no footsteps follow; when I turn around, Diana is just standing in the doorway with wide eyes. “Well? Are you coming in?”

  Her mouth starts working, but no sound comes out at first. “What ...” she finally manages as she takes one step forward, then another. “Have you lost your mind?” she demands over the sound of the door closing.

  “I don’t think so. You’re making about as much sense as you usually do.”

  “Just look at this place.” She looks me up and down. “And you. You’re not even dressed!”

  “So what? I don’t have anywhere to be. What are you doing here, anyway? If you just came here to criticize, you can turn around right now.”

  Diana raises her left hand to her hip. “I take it you’ve forgotten that it’s your turn to host a meeting?”

  “A meeting?” Almost perfectly on cue, the phone rings again, and I realize what Diana’s talking about. “Oh, shit!”

  “That’s as succinct an approximation of my thoughts as anything else,” Diana replies.

  “Not helping!” I stand up and push my unwashed hair out of my face. “Fuck, where do I start?”

  “You might want to let the others in,” Diana says with a nod to the still-ringing phone.

  I growl and snatch it up off the couch. “Hello?”

  “Good morning, Sue!” Belle says brightly.

  “Yeah, whatever,” I say, and stab the 9 key with enough force to make it stick. “Shit.”

  “It’s obvious that you’re not at all prepared for this.” Diana reaches behind her for the door handle. “I may as well tell everyone that we’re going to skip it.”

  “No!” Damn it, how could I forget about the stupid meeting? It’s not like I have anything else to be thinking about. “No, just ... give me a second.” I lean down to sweep the junk on the coffee table onto the floor. “Can you go check what I’ve got in the pantry?”

  “I wouldn’t feel comfortable rummaging around in your ... kitchen.”

  “Fine, I’ll do it myself. You just stand there.” I storm into the kitchen and start digging through the half-empty boxes of pasta and cereal. I’ve just managed to get my hand on a battered package of Oreos when I hear the front door open.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Diana. I didn’t realize that you were standing there.” Chastity, I think.

  “She’s not ready,” Diana says. “She’d completely forgotten that there was a meeting today.”

  “She can hear you!” I say, and slam the pantry door. “Take a seat, guys.”

  “Do you need some help, Sue?” Denise asks.

  “No, thanks!” I grab the kettle off the stove and start filling it with water. “Just sit down. Get comfortable.” Once the kettle’s back on the stove, I grab a plate off the counter, rinse the three-day-old tomato sauce stains off it, and dump the package of Oreos onto it. Eight cookies left, and half of them are broken. Better than nothing, but maybe I’ve got something else ... I start digging through the other cupboards and come up with an ancient package of social tea biscuits. They’re probably stale, but no one’ll notice. I think of Diana, and shrug. No one important, anyway.

  “Okay, so the tea’s going to be coming soon.” I put the plate o
f cookies down on the coffee table a bit more roughly than I mean to, and Chastity flinches at the sharp noise. “Sorry. I don’t know how I forgot.”

  “You’ve had a lot on your mind,” Belle says. I can’t tell whether she’s going for ‘understanding’ or ‘sarcastic’.

  “No, I haven’t.” The kettle starts whistling almost as soon as I start talking, and I go back into the kitchen, where I take it off the stove and search for cups. I have to settle for mugs, and I drop a teabag from the dusty canister on the counter into each of them. I can’t remember when I bought this tea, which probably means that it’s been sitting there forever, but there’s nothing I can do about that. If they get past the cookies, this won’t faze them.

  While the tea’s doing its thing, I search for the sugar bowl; I can’t find it, though, so I just bring out the mostly-full bag of sugar with the carton of milk and put it down next to the still-untouched plate of cookies. “Tea’s coming,” I say, and return to the kitchen before anyone can say anything. A minute later, I start bringing out the mugs and a pile of mostly-clean spoons for the sugar. “There. Anyone missing anything?”

  Belle clears her throat and reaches for her mug. “We could have rescheduled, Sue,” she says as she lifts it to her mouth. I note that she doesn’t put any sugar in it, even though she usually takes at least two spoonfuls in her tea.

  “Why? It’s not like I’m going to be any more ready later. This crap’s not getting any fresher, and I can’t afford to buy more of it.”

  Belle freezes; Denise averts her eyes. Only Chastity is brave enough to reach out and place her hand on my arm with a sympathetic expression. “I’m sure you’ll find another job soon, Sue.”

  I laugh. “Not too likely. I haven’t even been looking for one.”

  “Well, why don’t we —” Denise begins, but I cut her off.

  “If that sentence ends anywhere near ‘try to help you find one,’ don’t bother finishing it.” I wrap my arms around myself and look down into my mug of cloudy tea. “Even if I could get an interview, I couldn’t show up like this. I’m a goddamn mess.”