by Lane Hart
The thing is, I don’t even hate her. It’s not even the mental illness excuse either. Sometimes I think maybe she was right and I would be better off dead than invisible.
“Happy Birthday!” Charlie and Ty shout from the bedroom door, startling me not only with their excited words but the birthday blowout noisemakers.
“Thanks, guys,” I say, sitting up with the sheets clenched to me and forcing a smile on my face.
And okay, so I’m not invisible to them, but they’re just good guys who think I’m broken and are trying to fix me. Which is almost as pathetic as being Graham’s dorky tutor.
“Here,” Charlie says as he comes up beside the bed and holds out a flat, neatly wrapped box with colorful balloons on it. “It’s from…all of us.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” I tell them, knowing he means it’s from him and Ty but not Graham. He probably doesn’t even know what it is.
Setting the gift on my lap, I tear through the paper and remove the lid to find…papers wrapped up in white tissue. Lifting each one, I find my frayed-on-the-corners birth certificate and social security card that smell like home. And great, there’s the reminder of my wonderful mother all over again, her name typed neatly, with her crisp signature after she birthed and named me.
“You really shouldn’t have,” I mutter in confusion as I rifle through the box and see an electric bill and a water bill for their amazing house.
“Look closer,” Ty says as he leans over and points out my name on the top of each of the invoices, right above Charlie’s.
“Great, you added my name to the utilities, so I’m legally responsible for paying them,” I mutter. “If you needed me to help with the bills, you could’ve just asked me.”
“No, silly,” Charlie says as he sits down on the bed at my feet, and even gives them a squeeze. “You don’t owe us any money. I have more than enough to pay for everything.”
“You do?” I ask, looking between him and Ty.
“The house is actually mine,” Charlie informs me. “Well, my father bought it for us, and I pay all of our bills from my trust account.”
“Oh,” I say in understanding. “So, you two are both rich as shit?”
“Nope, just Charlie,” Ty replies. “He lied—”
“Fibbed,” Charlie interrupts. “I told a small fib the day you got here because everyone knows about my money…and I thought it would be nice if one person didn’t.”
“Okay,” I respond.
“And I’m sorry about that. Now I know that, even if I had told you about the wealth from day one, you wouldn’t have cared,” he says.
“Of course not,” I tell him.
“So, about the bills and the stuff your dad sent from home,” Ty starts.
“You guys talked to my dad?” I gasp when it finally hits me that they would’ve had to get him to send those things. “But why?”
“We talked to your dad, and I think he was glad to hear from us that you were fine here,” Charlie explains. “And the reason he sent those things, and we added you to the utilities, is so that you can go get your driver’s license!”
“Surprise!” Ty adds with a cheesy, fake smile.
So that’s what this is all about.
“Thanks for going to all that trouble, but I like walking,” I assure them.
“No, you don’t,” Charlie argues. “Not when it’s hot as fuck, and you have to walk miles. It’s cruel and unusual punishment, and we don’t want to do it anymore.”
“So don’t,” I huff. “But I’m not getting in a car.”
“I bet that’s what you said about the water a few weeks ago too,” Ty points out.
“No,” I say with an emphatic shake of my head. “The water was…it wasn’t as bad as being trapped with the doors locking me inside, unable to breathe.”
I push the covers off of me so that I can get to my feet and escape this conversation. “I can’t get in a cage and be at someone’s mercy like that ever again!”
“That sounds awful,” Charlie says, coming over and standing in front of me. He takes my hand like he knows I want to bolt.
“Fuck, I can’t even imagine,” Ty adds, as he walks over and gives my shoulder a supportive squeeze.
“And it makes sense that you wouldn’t want to ride with someone else again,” Charlie goes on to say. “But for just a second, picture yourself at the wheel, in control of the locks and where the car goes.”
“I can’t…I can’t be the one driving,” I tell him. “I don’t have a license!”
“It’s only against the law to drive without a license if you get caught,” Ty offers.
“Yes, but if I get caught, I could get in big trouble.”
“We won’t let you get caught,” Charlie says. “We’ll take you to practice around the neighborhood, and in abandoned parking lots and country roads where the police never go.”
“I dunno. That sounds dangerous,” I tell him.
“You’re twenty-one! It’s time to let loose!” Ty exclaims. “You should drink and drive!”
“Not at the same time,” Charlie amends. “But yes, it’s time for you to have your first taste of alcohol and your first time behind the wheel of a car. We can take Graham’s!”
For the first time in my life, I try to really picture myself getting in the front seat of an automobile and cranking the engine. Could I do it? Could I get in a car again if I were the one in control? I have no clue, but I think I want to try. Getting in the water was easier than I expected, but I’m not sure trying to drive would be worth the anxiety.
“We’ll go slow and take it easy,” Ty says, when I don’t respond. “But sweetheart, you need to know how to drive. What if there was an emergency like my appendix ruptures and Charlie and Graham aren’t home…”
“I’d call an ambulance,” I easily respond.
“The phones are all dead,” Ty replies.
“Then I would flag down a neighbor or someone.”
“There’s no one around! Everyone is at work. And I’m gonna be dead soon if you don’t drive me to the hospital!” Ty yells. “Do you really want to be responsible for killing me, all because you were too scared to learn how to drive?”
Laughing because he’s ridiculous, but I do get the point he’s trying to make. “Okay. I’ll try to drive. But I may not make it out of the driveway.”
“You’ve got this!” Charlie says encouragingly with a grin.
“Hell yeah, you do,” Ty adds with a matching smile.
It’s ridiculous that they get so excited about something as silly as helping me, but I appreciate their enthusiasm.
…
Tyson
“She’s really going to do this,” I whisper eagerly to Charlie while we wait out by Graham’s car in the early morning heat for Sky to come down.
“Don’t jinx it,” he grumbles. “She may not come down.”
“I think she will. Sky seemed different this morning, you know? Like she was up for anything.”
“Maybe,” Charlie agrees while lifting one shoulder in a shrug like he doesn’t care, but he totally does. He wants this for Sky just as much as I do, maybe more.
Some men would look at a girl with Sky’s issues, wash their hands and walk away thinking she’s more trouble than she’s worth. But she’s absolutely worth it. The problem is that she’s twenty-one and no one else has ever taken the time to help her. Her father sounded like a great guy on the phone, but he’s her dad, and he probably didn’t want to push her after he saw her go through something so traumatizing. Hell, it was probably just as traumatizing to him losing his wife and nearly losing his only daughter in the blink of an eye. It’s likely a struggle for him to keep his own shit together. So that only leaves Charlie and me to help Skyler gain some independence and distance herself a little more from the horrible childhood accident.
“Here she comes,” Charlie whispers when the front door opens, and Sky comes marching over with her purse crisscrossing her body. She looks
like she’s nervous but ready to conquer some demons today.
I quickly go around Graham’s yellow Mustang and open the driver’s door for her. “Right this way, madam,” I say with a horrible English accent. It gets a smile out of Sky, though, which is exactly the goal.
She looks inside at the black leather upholstery for a long time in thought before she finally eases a few inches forward. “Will you leave the door open?” she asks.
“Sure,” I agree, before I take my hands off the frame and go around to the passenger side. “Shotgun!” I call out before Charlie can.
“Fucker,” he mutters, but he climbs in and squeezes into the backseat without further protest. Once he’s in, I push the passenger seat back and lower myself into it, keeping my door wide open as well. Skyler still hasn’t sat down but she will.
“Whew, it is hot back here,” Charlie grumbles.
“Mind if I crank it?” I ask Skyler since I have Graham’s keys.
“S-sure,” she answers, still standing.
I reach over, jam the key into the ignition, and turn it on, blasting warm air from the vents and classic rock through the radio. I turn the volume down on Guns & Roses, but crank up the AC.
“Take your time.” I duck my head over to say to Skyler. “Learning to drive will take days, if not weeks.”
“Right,” she agrees.
Charlie pulls himself up between the seats and says, “Why don’t you just try to sit down in it today, and we can try putting it into gear tomorrow? Slow and easy, a little bit at a time, so you’re not overwhelmed?”
Sky facepalms herself and groans. “You two must think I’m such a loser.”
“We don’t think that,” I respond right away. “I hate flying, but I bet you would be cool, calm and supportive for me if I had to take a plane somewhere, right?”
“Of course,” she agrees, dipping her head inside to see me.
“And I have a fear of spiders, but I don’t need anyone to try and help me overcome that shit, okay?” Charlie mutters from the backseat, making Skyler and me both smile at him.
“We’ll get you the biggest, hairiest tarantula that the world has ever seen and put its giant cage in your bedroom…” I tease.
“Fuck you,” Charlie snaps. “That’s not even funny to joke about.”
Skyler giggles and then she finally does it—she takes a seat in the car and puts her hands on the wheel. I think Charlie and I both hold our breath until she speaks.
“This is okay,” she tells us, and my lungs are finally able to expand again.
“You want to shut the door? It’ll be cooler in here if we do,” I point out, not wanting to rush her but just giving her a reason for making the move.
“Yeah, you can close yours,” Sky tells me, so I pull it shut gently. It doesn’t catch all the way, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not like we’re going anywhere today.
After about ten minutes of chitchatting about the songs on the radio, she finally reaches for her door and pulls it closed.
“The AC feels good,” Sky says, as she closes her eyes and tilts her head back on the headrest, her knuckles turning white from the grip she has on the steering wheel.
“Yeah, it does,” I agree with a grin as I watch her fight to stay in the enclosed space, proud of her for being brave enough to try even going this far on the first day.
“It’s a little claustrophobic back here,” Charlie complains. “Can we call it a day soon?”
He’s not even that cramped. I know he’s just giving Sky an out in case she needs it.
“We could go cool off in the pool,” I suggest.
“You guys can go ahead. I think I’m gonna go for a walk,” Sky replies.
“Do you want us to come with you?” Charlie asks before I can.
“Nah, I just want to be alone,” she says before she quickly climbs out of the car and then takes off down the driveway.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
“Did we push too hard? Should we follow her?” Charlie asks in a rush.
“Nah, she said she wants to be alone,” I answer. “I don’t think it was the car. I think her birthday is just a lot for her to deal with. Try to imagine celebrating the day you were born without your mother or, in her case, without her mother who gave her life and then tried to take it away.”
“Yeah, that would be hard,” Charlie agrees. “I hope she’s okay.”
“Me too,” I agree, as I watch her disappear around the corner.
Chapter 17
Skyler
I wish I could be someone else. Just for today. Is that possible?
While I would rather be hanging out with Ty and Charlie than having a pity party for one, I can’t seem to get out of my head.
Sitting in the driver seat of Graham’s car felt good. Great even, especially since it smelled so strongly of him, like he was practically there with us.
Holding on to the steering wheel, I felt like maybe, for the first time in my life, I was in control of my destiny, that I could finally let go of all the shit with my mother that’s been holding me back for so long.
But then I looked up in the rearview mirror, and I saw the same, boring girl staring back at me. Nothing has changed. I’m still the same despite the years that have passed. Sure, I may be able to go swimming like a normal person, and sometime soon I could even be able to drive a car. But on the outside, I’m no different than before, which makes me sad for some reason.
I look just like the seven-year-old girl who was in all of the newspapers fourteen years ago, the same glasses, same braid, same freckled nose.
My mother wasn’t around to show me how to fix my hair differently or put on makeup when I became a teenager, and all the other girls at school were wearing it. If my mother had any beauty products, my dad must have thrown them all out because I don’t remember them.
I wish I could look in the mirror and see myself all grown up for once.
And yeah, I wish Graham would see me differently and actually want me. It’s stupid and silly, childish even, yet he’s still the one person I’ve wanted for years.
To me, the only way to make that happen, is to change how I see myself first.
I’m walking along the strip, sweating bullets in the growing heat, lost in my thoughts when I look up and see the bright pink sign that stands out from all the rest—Fairy Godmother’s Salon.
That’s it! That’s exactly what I need—a makeover! One that makes me look and feel like a woman rather than a pathetic, dorky child.
I open the door and head inside before I can talk myself out of if. All of the chairs in front of the mirrors are empty except for two. The women occupying them are both staring at me like I’m Medusa and have snakes coming out of my head. I must look worse than I think. How do Charlie and Ty even tolerate me all day, every day?
“Can I help you?” the younger brunette with a short pixie cut says when she gets to her feet.
“I hope so,” I tell her. “I need…help, but I’m not sure what exactly.”
“Okay,” the girl replies slowly as she approaches me. “Are you looking to get a new haircut?”
“That would be a start, yes.” I reach around to undo my braid. “Could you make my hair less, big?” I ask, since that’s the main reason I keep it braided.
“Does the humidity make it a little frizzy?” the woman asks while reaching out to run her fingers through the strands after they’re loose.
“I don’t think it’s the humidity,” I explain. “Or maybe it is, and I’ve always lived in humid climates. Is there a way to make it not frizzy?”
“Sure. We can try a smoothing treatment,” she tells me with a smile.
“Great. What else can you do to make me look less like me?”
“Less like you?” she repeats, a crease forming between her eyebrows.
“It’s my birthday, and I’ve looked the same since I was seven years old. I want to look my age.”
“Well, happy birthday,” she says with a smile. “How old
are you?”
“Guess,” I reply, to see what she thinks after just meeting me.
“Sixteen?” she speculates.
“See, that’s the problem. I’m twenty-one, and I still look like a little girl. How do I look twenty-one?”
“How about we start with your hair, and while I’m working on that, we can discuss what else you’re looking for?”
“Okay,” I agree.
“Come on back and let’s start with a wash using some deep conditioning. I’m Amy, by the way,” she says, as I follow her toward the back of the salon.
“I’m Skyler.”
Once I take a seat in the chair in front of the sink, I lean my head back, and Amy pulls all my hair up into the sink.
“So, do you have any big plans tonight to celebrate?” Amy asks, as she starts running water over my fluffy mane.
“Well, I live with these guys, so we’ll probably just hang out…” I start.
“Oh really? You live with guys?” she asks, looking down at me with a grin. “You don’t want to change your appearance for one of them, do you? If so, they’re not worth it!”
“No, I’m not,” I assure her. “Not really. I’m doing it for me. It’s just, I’ve never been shown how to curl my hair or wear makeup.”
“Really?” Amy asks in surprise.
“No. I lost my mother when I was seven.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” she says while brushing the hair back from my forehead to rinse it. “Then you are in need of a fairy godmother, aren’t you? Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of you today.”
“Thanks,” I tell her.
My eyes drift closed as all the tension in my body begins to relax while she works, a little less nervous now that I know I’m in good hands and she’s not making fun of me like the girls I went to school with.
…
Two hours later, and I have been dried, brushed, curled, powdered, and painfully waxed. My face has makeup on it for the first time ever, and my fingernails and toes have been scrubbed raw and painted pink, yet, when I look in the mirror, I still feel like the same nerdy girl as always.
