Winter In August

by Mia Villano

Not me, black was my signature color. I preferred everything black, gray, and a more modern look. She swore that was what caused me to always be sad and make bad choices.

  I slipped off my heels and climbed into bed with my best friend who was sleeping on her side. Her blankets always smelled like lavender and vanilla. She popped her head out and sniffed.

  “You smell weird,” said Harper.

  “Thanks, there’s a disgusting reason. Do you hate me?”

  “Yes.” She answered in a dull voice, pulling the covers back over her head.

  “I’m so sorry, I’m never, never leaving with a guy. I swear on my life, yours, and the Popes.” She yanked the blankets off her face.

  “Don’t swear on the Popes' life. That’s serious, and come on, you know, you’re full of shit,” Harper laughed. She turned around to glare at me. Harper was the opposite of me in looks, attitude, and everything else. Petite, blonde, and quiet, she ate organic, except for ice cream, and she couldn’t stay angry more than ten minutes at someone, especially me. She was a hugger which I was definitely not. She’d had sex with two guys her whole life, and secretly had a crush on our doctor friend, Tieg. She played the violin and loved Michael Buble. She preferred a night in rather than a night out, flats instead of heels, and turtlenecks all year-round. Unlike me in every way, she dressed more conservatively and didn’t flaunt her sexiness.

  We’d met when I attended college for a short time in Ohio. Tieg introduced us one night at a party, and we instantly became best friends. The saying ‘opposites attract’ is so true in our case. We fit together like salt and pepper. Harper was the one who saved me when I was at my lowest point. She insisted I come and live with her in New York City and start a new life. I considered her my truest friend.

  “Please tell me you remember what happened because I don’t, and I can’t believe where I woke up this morning.”

  She glared at me. “I begged you not to go with him. I pulled you away and tried to get you out the back door. You were pissed at me, and so drunk. I was too, but I still had my wits about me and I knew you shouldn’t go with him. He told you he had a Maserati and said he would give you a ride and bring you back home. I knew better.”

  “Do you have any idea who he was?” I murmured, hoping she didn’t.

  “Marco Fitzgerald. I’m sick thinking of him, Gabby. I’ve been looking at his pictures on the internet. He’s a real pig.”

  “He’s the biggest dick head of New York City and possibly the world. I can’t believe I went anywhere with that fucker, let alone had sex with him, twice. The idiot’s always on the news. I hope no one was taking pictures. Do you think they were? I should check the internet. You didn’t see any of me on there did you?” Christ, I was rambling on, throwing myself into a panic.

  “No, you aren’t in any of them. Oh, Gabby. You’ve hit a new low this time. Please tell me he wore a condom. The guy’s been around,” sighed Harper sitting up.

  “I checked before I left. Harper, I have to stop this. I’m so sorry again. I’ll make this horrific mistake up to you when you get back. That reminds me, I need to take a shower, with bleach, and get to the salon. He did have a lawyer, no a pilot, there this morning taking him to some exclusive location. The jackass mistook me for a prostitute.”

  Harper laughed out loud. “Oh, that’s refreshing.”

  “I’m glad you find the humor in that. He looked like your type, you know blonde and all perfectly laundered.”

  She continued to laugh. “Perfectly laundered? That’s a new one. Was this the first time you’ve been mistaken for a hooker?”

  “That’s nice. Yes, as a matter of fact it was, smart ass.”

  “You need to go see your doctor. I know you’ve been canceling your appointments.”

  “I’m fine. Everything is under control.” I lied, standing and grabbing my heels.

  “We’re staying in tonight. I’ll be done with work early, and I’m not leaving until the morning. I don’t want you roaming the bars later. Wait for me and we’ll watch old movies and order from the new organic restaurant. I have a craving for teriyaki tofu. Gabby, are you listening to me?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Sounds delicious. Yes, I’m listening. Thanks for not being mad,” I said. Lost in my thoughts, pictures of this guy flashed in my head of him with various models, socialites, and actresses. I had started to worry about what I could have caught. The panic was now setting in once I was in my comfortable surroundings.

  “Oh, I’m mad. I just love you to death.”

  “Love you too, sweetie.” I blew her a kiss and started to run to the bathroom.

  “Hey?” said Harper. I turned around to glance at her.

  “I’m being serious now. Are you okay? You seem to be a little off. Is the reason still because of him? I have time to talk you know.” I looked down and shook my head.

  “No, no. I’m fine. I’m just stressed with work and I’ve been going out way too much lately. I need to stop drinking so much. Nothing else.” I lied again.

  Chapter 3

  Riding the subway into work, I was somewhat cleaned up, and calmed down. No matter how bad I felt, I didn’t leave the house without heels and lip stain. I tied my hair in a loose bun and threw on silver bracelets and a simple jersey knit dress. My face was puffy from the night of drinking, and I was bloated.

  This had to stop now. Although I’d promised myself the same thing several times before, this time, I was going to make the effort to hold myself to the promise. I was similar to a junkie looking for the next fix, and my fix was a man.

  Men were so easy. They were all the same. They might look different, make a lot of money or no money, but all of them had the same idea in mind, to get fucked and fucked well. Getting them in bed was the easy part. I was twenty-six, and I loved having a good time, Janis Joplin, whiskey, and expensive cars. My biggest love was men and good hardcore, ball-slapping sex. In fact, I craved sex and the harder and dirtier to me, the better. I liked to love them and leave them more or less. I was in charge of my life, and it included who I wanted in bed and how often. I had neither time nor the desire for any sappy love bullshit. I’d had romance once, and sappy shit didn’t last. I was determined not to allow myself to fall in love with a guy. I kept a wall up by not showing any emotions and so far the wall has worked. Love caused heartache and took too much time. I had to protect myself from being abandoned or hurt.

  I stepped in the salon where I worked to a room full of women waiting impatiently for their appointments. With the location and clientele, the day promised to be very lucrative. The music pumped through the expensive stereo, and Tab smiled at the front desk when I walked in. His job was to be friendly, gorgeous, and approachable and he did his job well.

  “Just brewed, Gabs. You’re dripping of hotness this morning.” He air kissed me on both cheeks and handed me an espresso. I knew he was being nice; I was anything but hot that morning. Tab, on the other hand, looked like a million bucks. Once a model for Ralph Lauren, he made anything he wore, look amazing. His muscular, lean body burst out of a tight fitting white shirt, skinny jeans rolled up, and Gucci loafers. To top off the outfit, he had on a bolero hat and, signature eyeliner he wore every day.

  “Thanks, honey. Man, we are busy.” I sipped the steamy coffee, burning my tongue.

  “We’re bursting at the seams today, sister.” I walked through the front which was full of New York’s richest, snobbiest women sitting and waiting for appointments. If you wanted your hair cut at Gino’s, appointments took a month, unless you were a regular or were willing to sit for hours until an opening came up. I lucked out getting in there and it was because I was so good at what I did. I finished top of my class at the Carsten Institute. I was starting to make money and loved my job. I schmoozed with the best and loved to hear how most of them spent their days. Their biggest problems were usually something I could only dream of, a maid quitting or trying to find a nanny for a baby a surrogate gave birth to.

  Once I made my way
to the back and set up for the first appointment, I ran to the bathroom and applied more lip stain and cover-up under my eyes. I was ready to start the day.

  Rhonda already had her first client and smiled at me with her pink Mohawk hair. Besides me, she was the most sought after stylist in the place, and my mentor. I considered being across from her an honor, and she was a lifesaver. There were several times when Rhonda helped me out of a mess or simmer down a real bitch who made me almost lose my temper.

  “Hey, Rhonda. How’s it going?” I asked, smiling at her.

  “Baby, it's going fast and hard like my husband this morning, if you know what I mean,” she smiled back. The girl sitting in the chair laughed as she was getting highlights.

  Rhonda gyrated her hips and danced around the customer. Everyone laughed except for the owner of the salon, Sven, who came out of his back office.

  “Oh Christ,” I laughed, getting out my favorite scissors from a velvet case. I loved my coworkers, and my job and just about everything in my life. Well, almost everything.

  “He can’t get enough of this stuff, baby,” she kept on. Rhonda was overweight and proud of her figure. She called her shape “curvy” and said her extra curves were more “cushion for the pushin”. She loved to wear tight fitting clothes and heels to work every day showing off every bump and bulge, and she flaunted her body off with pride. She and I got along well and we became friends right away.

  “Okay bitches, let’s get to work and save the dancing for later, like when you are home alone with your husband.” Sven, the owner of Gino’s and Tabs husband, said in a stern voice. No one took him seriously. He had on a new hands-free ear piece so Tab could announce who arrived, who was ready, and who was bitching. He said the headset made him more professional, and he was becoming an ass using it for everything. He turned his attention to me.

  “Hey, honey. You’re nearly late, but looking hot. Your ten o’clock is here.” Sven was six foot four, slightly overweight, and obsessed with his dachshund, Reggie. He shaved his head and wore the same looking clothes every day. He lived in jeans and a black t-shirt, black combat boots, and a black vest. The only time I didn’t see him in that outfit was when we went out together, and then he still wore all black. He said talking to me was easy, and he confided in me a lot. I asked him why his salon wasn’t named Sven’s and he said the salon was named after the love of his life of twenty-five years. Gino passed away from cancer and in his memory, Sven named the salon after him. He was a very private man, yet he liked to boast about his sex life to me as much as he could. He had a roaming eye and lately, a roaming penis.

  “Thanks, Sven.”

  “Rough night last night?” he whispered.

  “You could say that,” I whispered back, feeling sick thinking about where I was a few hours ago. The thought of his big fat ass sticking out of the covers made me want to gag. Then I realized thoughts of the blonde guy raced through my head also. He might be good-looking, but I assured myself he was boring in bed and an ass like all the rest. Most of those rich bastards cared about getting off and didn’t consider what a woman would want. I assured myself Blondie was as bad as Marco, if not worse. And why was I thinking about him? That situation was done and over, and I prayed I wouldn’t see either of them.

  “We’ll talk later. I have something to tell you. You aren’t going to believe who I met last night walking Reggie at the park. He rocked my world. Are you ready for Mrs. Spiegel?” I rolled my eyes at him.

  “Yes, bring her back,” I smiled, taking one last sip of the hot coffee, and thankful I didn’t have to listen to one of Sven’s sex stories so early in the morning.

  “Be extra nice. She caught her husband cheating and she’s been drinking this morning. On top of that, he was cheating with the nanny, and the nanny’s a guy. She’s ticked off, to say the least. Tab baby, send Gigi back,” Sven said into his headset.

  “And I thought I had problems,” I smiled.

  * * * * *

  I stayed in with Harper that evening, ordered organic take-out, and watched our favorite movies. I loved Moonstruck and could recite the entire movie by heart which drove Harper nuts. She, was stereotypically obsessed over the Notebook. I hated the movie but sat through the sappy crap for my best friend. Spending the night with Harper and doing what she wanted was the least I could do after abandoning her the night before. We fell asleep in Harper’s bed, and though I would not admit this truth to her, I did sleep better. Her bed was so soft and cozy, and her little candle type lights everywhere were relaxing. Perhaps she was right about my room and its effect on me.

  The next morning, I hesitantly helped her pack for another overseas trip, cooked breakfast, and promised to behave while she was gone. Harper always worried about me when she had to leave.

  While we were sitting in the living room drinking coffee and finishing up breakfast, she turned to me in her standard white turtleneck and jeans.

  “I’m worried about you, Gabby. Spending the night with Marco Fitzgerald has me concerned.” She grabbed my hand, and I flinched.

  “Stop Harper. You’re like a mother hen. Stop worrying.” I moved my hand, uncomfortable with anyone touching me. I nervously stood and walked to the kitchen to get more coffee.

  She jumped up and followed me. “I can’t stop worrying. I see so much good in you, Gabby. You need to be good to yourself.” We stood in the kitchen facing each other. I noticed the legitimate concern on her face.

  “I’m fine. Please, Harper. Don’t do this. I’ll let you know if there is something wrong.”

  “That’s the thing. You won’t until it’s too late, and I have to find you unconscious. I can’t go through that again and neither can you.”

  “Trust me this time when I say I have everything under control. That was five years ago and I won’t ever let that happen again.”

  “Text if you need to talk, Gabby. We can facetime or I’ll call. You seem to be a little depressed and drinking more, and I believe I know why,” said Harper. She was so adorable when she worried about me. She would get a concerned expression on her face; it was like I was talking to someone much older than me. Knowing she was there for me if I needed her was reassuring. She kept me from going out of my mind, and I loved her for that. I didn’t know where I would be without her.

  “You won’t ever see me like that again. I’m a different person now. Trust me.” I tried to convince her I was perfectly fine. Maybe, I was trying to convince myself I was fine. On the outside, you could never tell what I had been through or what I had been going through. I was a tough-talking party girl, in control. On the inside, I was anything but in control. I was still a complete mess and I hid it well, at least I thought I did.

  Chapter 4

  After Harper left, I went online to pay a few bills. I noticed one of the bills was due on a date I would never forget. Five years ago my life fell apart, and the nightmare seemed so clear in my head still. I was planning on living in Ohio the rest of my life. I was happy, in love, and hoping to get married.

  I had been totally enamored with Kris Graber since the first day of school. Kris went to school with me from first grade until high school graduation. He came from a working-class family in Ohio and lived down the road from me. Kris’s dad retired from the military, and his mom worked as a schoolteacher. We were in every class at St Frances Elementary and attended St Bernard’s High School together. He was gorgeous, and I even thought so when he lost two front teeth when we were both seven years old. I loved him from the first time I spotted him eating a peanut butter sandwich and drinking chocolate milk. I’ll always remember that day. He noticed I had forgotten my lunch and shared his sandwich with me. He was the one that helped me get over my mom and the one person I confided in when I thought I had no one.

  My mom, Daniella or Danni as everyone called her, was a stay at home mom. She was always waiting for me every single day after school without fail. She and I were so close. I remembered coming home from school on the bus like I did eve
ry day. I would run into the kitchen where my mom would be sitting there waiting for me with a snack. One snowy winter day in February promised hot soup, and I ran in to see my mom after a bad day of being bullied by a kid on the bus.

  “Mom, Mom,” I yelled, throwing my backpack on the table and expecting the familiar aroma of the soup simmering on the burner. Chicken with stars was always my favorite and before I left for school, she promised to have some waiting for me.

  This time, however, there wasn’t an answer, there wasn’t any soup, and there was no mom. I ran all over the house trying to find her but she was nowhere to be found. There was not a note from her, and her car was in the garage. The television had been left on, and a cup on the table still had coffee inside.

  I was terrified and didn’t know what to do. Where could she be? This had never happened before. She couldn’t be at the neighbors, she never visited them. Panic-stricken, I called my dad to tell him my mom was not home. He assured me he’d come home right away. When my dad found me, I had thrown up all over, and was hysterically screaming “Mommy, please come home, please come home,” over and over.

  That evening when she hadn’t shown up, and my dad had called everyone he knew, we found a note in the mailbox. She said she was leaving us and going to be happy for once in her life. She requested we not come and find her because she needed this time to herself. She said she might be back someday, but she had to go for a little while. She told me, she loved me and would see me soon. I held on to the hope she would be back. Each day I prayed she would be in the kitchen when I came home from school. I said my rosaries diligently every night and prayed to St. Jude, the patron of hopeless cases. I asked Santa to bring her back on numerous Christmases. But, I was always heartbroken. My sense of security was crushed. Seeing my friends with their moms tore me apart. I hid my pain as best I could through pretending to be tough. I hid my pain well in front of people, then when I would be in the privacy of my own room is when my true feelings would surface. Many nights I cried myself to sleep, hoping somewhere she could feel the pain I was in, and come rushing back to me.