Pretty Girls Don't Cry

by Tony J Winn

  They really thought she was just refreshed from her day off.

  Or that she'd gotten a perm.

  “Yes,” she said, stringing Stevey along. “I did get a perm. My hair was straight before, remember?”

  He eyed her suspiciously. “I don't know. I think it was always curly, but not quite as curly. I think it's the tan. You look different because you got one of those spray tans.”

  “That must be it,” she said, lying.

  “You got your eyes lasered. No more glasses,” he said.

  “Stevey. I've never worn glasses.”

  “Must just be your tan, then, I guess.” He opened the box of chocolates and selected the largest one.

  “Please, help yourself,” Nora said, smiling. “It's not like I'm going to bite you.”

  Stevey grabbed three more chocolates and pretended to be afraid as he ran away.

  *

  At one o'clock, Nora went on air for Afternoons with Nora. As summer was starting, she'd chosen Summer Camp as a theme, and had listeners email her their funniest camp stories.

  The gossip blogs seemed tackier than usual that day. A certain B-list actress had appeared on red carpets sporting new plastic surgery recently, and several of the gossip blogs were abuzz with people comparing before and after photos, but Nora chose to ignore that story, for the day at least.

  The bumper music played, and she took a calming breath, as she always did. Even when she wasn't on the air, hearing that little station ID over the same notes would make her take a breath.

  After announcing the time and weather, she said into the microphone, “My parents sent me to what they thought was an all-girls' summer camp when I was fourteen. What they didn't know was my crush, the object of my teenage adulation, Eddie would be there as a junior counselor.” Nora stumbled for a moment, chagrin she'd mentioned Aaron Edward by name. Her personal rule was to use aliases for any personal anecdotes, but it was too late. “Eddie was a tough guy, as evidenced by the wallet he wore on a chain clipped to his belt. Best of all, he played the guitar. If I have any teenage guys listening out there, if you're wondering how to impress a girl, get one of those chains for your wallet and learn how to play the guitar. You only need to know about five chords. Eddie knew four chords, but he had my heart at three, along with all the other girls at camp. There's nothing quite like a campfire and the open night sky to make a guitar-playing seventeen-year-old into a rock star, and fourteen-year-old me into a groupie.” She paused to let it sink in with listeners. There was no point in ruining a great anecdote by denying it oxygen. “Eddie, if you're listening, I would have met you that night by the lake for skinny dipping, but our own cabin counselor knew better, and she armed the cabin's alarm system every night, without fail.” Pause. “Eddie, sometimes when I close my eyes, on a hot summer night, I'm fourteen again, and I'm running down to that lake to meet you under the moonlight. I'm forever running down to that lake.”

  Nora leaned back from the microphone and eased up the slider to bring up the song that was already beginning, a Bryan Adams song, The Summer of '69. Though decades predating her experience, the sentiment still fit. Bryan sang about playing guitar until his fingers bled, and Nora was pleased at how nicely her first afternoon show was coming together. She did not choose the songs, as the Music Director did, but she could rearrange their order.

  The songs were like playing cards dealt in a game, and her job was to make the most of what she'd been given.

  *

  After her show ended and the next shift took over the studio, Nora stretched her arms high over her head on the way back to her desk. A hand-written note was waiting on her keyboard.

  It read: Welcome back, kiddo. The anecdote about summer camp was ACES. I want more and the listeners demand more! LOVE these stories from the HEART. Love, Uncle Don

  Nora noticed Murray moving around the office, keeping his distance, but circling, circling, like a shark. She didn't want to face him, so she grabbed her purse and phone and left work early.

  Absent-mindedly, she rubbed her nose, and grimaced at the tenderness. Everything was healing well, but still delicate.

  From the safety of her car, she checked her messages on her cell phone. Bobby had invited her over for “dinner.” She pulled out her compact and gently powdered her lovely new nose.

  Her green blouse really did bring out her eyes. For a moment, she felt vain and embarrassed for falling in love with her own image.

  She shifted in her car seat, thinking about Bobby's hands on her legs, her waist ...

  Her first day back had gone well, plus she looked great and didn't want it to go to waste, so she texted her mom that she was seeing a friend, and drove straight to Bobby's.

  *

  Bobby swung open the door. “Did you do something to your hair?” he asked innocently.

  “No.” She melted a little inside at his cute English accent. One of his eye teeth overlapped slightly with another, giving him a crooked-looking grin.

  “New shirt?” he asked. “There's definitely something different about you, and I have a keen eye for such things. You know those puzzles in the newspaper where you have to spot the ten things that are different? I'm always able to find at least seven, without any help. Yes, that's a new shirt, I'm certain of it.”

  “You got me!”

  He gave her a hug, smelling her hair deeply. “I missed you, friend.”

  She reached down and squeezed his butt. “I missed you too.”

  “Can I kiss you? I'll be careful. It's sensitive, right? Wow, it looks so real. Don't you think? It just looks ... real.”

  “It is real, you goof. Yes, of course you can kiss me.”

  He tilted his head to the right and came in slowly for a gentle kiss. “Mmm. How's that.”

  “Nice.” It was different, though, with her nose being smaller. Because it was still healing, everything felt sensitive, and she was keenly aware of the space around it, where the former outline had been. She wasn't afraid of him opening his eyes during the kiss. Her nose was smaller than his, smaller than the nose of the guy she was kissing, for a change.

  They skipped dinner and went straight to the bedroom. He wanted to try something different, but it wasn't a good angle for her. They settled on a position with her knees up, wrapped around his back. He was working her hard, like a piece of gym equipment, sweat trickling down his chest.

  “You did miss me,” she commented.

  “So who's this Eddie fellow?” he asked.

  “Nobody. A composite character. You were listening to my show?”

  He paused in his action, a bead of sweat clinging to the tip of his nose. “Were you trying to make me jealous?” he asked, moving again, driving himself harder and harder into her.

  She felt a twinge of guilt. “It's just entertainment,” she said.

  “No more talking,” he said between breaths.

  His face was red, and different than she'd ever seen him. But the sex was good. The aching, desperate feeling started in her stomach and spread out quickly as she moaned with pleasure.

  He moved faster and faster, breathing heavily, until he jerked and collapsed on her. Something struck her in the face—her own knee, and her nose stung. She swore and pushed him off.

  “I said you had to be careful,” she said angrily.

  He rolled over, his back to her.

  “You hit me in the nose,” she said.

  He turned back to her and draped an arm across her chest. “Sorry. It's okay, though, right?”

  She squeezed the bridge of her nose and tears came to her eyes. “You might have broken it.”

  He squinted at her nose. “It doesn't look broken.”

  “You don't know how I feel.”

  His voice cold, he said, “I guess I don't. I'm just a stupid man, though, we don't know anything.”

  “It's not funny.” She grabbed her clothes from the side of the bed and started putting them back on.

  He said, “That's it? You're leaving? You
got what you wanted and now you're done?”

  She smoothed down her hair as best she could with her hands, though it had gotten quite frizzy at the back. “Nothing personal, but I've got to work early in the morning and I have a lot to catch up on.”

  “Fine.”

  As she showed herself out of the apartment, Nora thought about how funny men were—not how different they were from women, but how startlingly similar they were. They got hurt feelings too, but they didn't cry. Nora wondered what that might feel like, to be all bottled up inside and tough on the exterior.

  It wasn't until she got into her car and saw her emotionless expression reflected in the mirror that she realized that was exactly how some people saw her.

  When she opened herself just a tiny bit, like she had with the summer camp story earlier that day, people ate it up. Perhaps because she wasn't one of those fame-seeking types, constantly lobbying for attention, it made people want to know more. Life was so backwards.

  *

  Dr. Garrett was able to squeeze Nora in for a quick visit the next morning to check on her nose. It felt swollen and sore, and Nora was sure she'd broken it from being careless with Bobby. She thought she could feel a new ridge in the bone, a gap that would be visible when the swelling went down.

  Dr. Garrett squeezed the bridge again, then the middle, then the tip. “I don't think you broke it, but even if you had, there's nothing we can do about it now. Try to be more careful. How did you say this happened?”

  “I was having intercourse and my knee hit my nose.”

  Dr. Garrett didn't even blink. “You should stick to girl-on-top for a few months. I should add that to the after-care notes.” She scribbled something on a notepad. “Anything else?”

  “There is one thing, but I don't want to keep you.”

  Dr. Garrett checked her watch and said they still had ten minutes, and to ask her anything.

  “I was wondering about body dysmorphia. If I suspect a friend has an eating disorder, should I talk to her about it?”

  “If she's your friend, yes. Expect her to deny it. Expect her to evade you, and to lie like a drug addict. I'm not saying that to be cruel, but it's true. Get her to see a professional, as soon as possible. I have a pamphlet, just a moment.”

  She printed something off and handed it to Nora. “We have seven more minutes.”

  “I just wanted to thank you. You've been so kind to me, and I couldn't be happier with the work you've done. You're a gifted artist. I understand my nose was complicated, and I'm so glad I chose you.”

  Dr. Garrett fanned her face with her hands. “I am not good with praise, clearly, but you are welcome. You are very welcome.”

  *

  Nora got through the workday, successfully avoiding Murray again. She did pop over to Stevey's office to formally apologize for biting him.

  “I got a rabies shot immediately,” he said, “but I've been having these strange urges during the full moon.”

  “Did you have these urges before I bit you?”

  He grinned. “How did you know? It's the strangest thing. I wake up at nine, nine-thirty—that's the middle of the night for me—and I rub mayonnaise all over myself. Oh, wait. Did that make you feel uncomfortable? Me rubbing stuff on myself?”

  “Did you take the sensitivity training too?”

  “We all did. And by we, I mean the men.”

  “Stevey, we all joke around here. It's all good fun, and I do have a sense of humor. You know that, right?”

  He frowned and fiddled with some things on his desk. “If I ever make you feel uncomfortable, you'll tell me, right?”

  “Yes.”

  He pretended to wipe sweat from his brow. “Women, sheesh. So hard to understand.”

  “Stevey, women want the same things men want. By pretending we're so mysterious, you're being just a teensy bit sexist.”

  “Oh.”

  Nora sensed that now she was the one making Stevey uncomfortable. “Thanks for taking over some of my shows. I hear the listeners experienced a softer side of Stevey with you on your own in there.”

  His eyes got big. “Oh, Nora, it was so scary. I don't know how you do the show by yourself every day. You've got big balls. Shit. Was that offensive?”

  She reached forward and patted him on the shoulder. “You're a good guy. The fact that you even ask that proves it.”

  *

  Nora found Kylie by the photocopier and invited her for a drink after work. She made it sound like a spur-of-the-moment thing, but she'd already arranged for Tianne to come and meet them.

  Kylie reluctantly agreed, and they met at a pub near Tianne's house, where they started off with a pitcher of white wine sangria and some appetizers that Kylie didn't touch.

  Nora said, “Kylie, please slap me across the face if this is none of my business, but would you say you have a complicated relationship with food?”

  Kylie grabbed a chicken wing and began to nibble it. “No.”

  “There's no judgment here,” Tianne said. She pulled up the sleeve of her beaded tunic. “I was a cutter, once.”

  Kylie put down the chicken wing and leaned in to stare at the raised pink lines on Tianne's arms, cruel-looking against her lovely brown skin.

  “Sometimes I still miss it,” Tianne said. “You could say I've switched one thing for another, now that I have the blogging and the yoga, both of which give me the same pleasure of a singular focus. The kids are great too, but it's not the same. It's not something you do just for you.”

  Kylie didn't say anything.

  Nora sipped her sangria, so grateful she had Tianne, not just as a friend for herself, but to offer Kylie. Tianne was the same age as Nora—their birthdays were only days apart—but she seemed to have an old soul by comparison.

  “Is there anything you'd like to ask me about my cutting?” Tianne asked.

  “I knew some cutters,” Kylie said. “I went to some group counseling in high school. I sorta had anorexia back then for a bit.”

  Nora felt relieved—not that Kylie had an eating disorder, but that she was talking about it.

  “But I'm fine now,” Kylie said.

  “I don't think you are,” Nora said.

  Kylie crossed her arms and her tone became defensive. “Okay, I've been a little distracted lately. I was doing some research after you said you were getting your nose done, and I was looking at some pages about liposuction. I don't think I need to lose another five pounds if I could just target some of the fat pockets.”

  Tianne lay her hand on Kylie's elbow. “Honey, you don't have any fat pockets. You were in my yoga class, so I saw everything.”

  “Lycra holds things in.”

  Tianne pulled a card out of her purse. “Here. This is someone I know through the yoga community. She's helped a lot of people.”

  “I don't need help. You girls are just being jealous. This happens to me all the time.”

  Nora pushed her tongue against the roof of her mouth and fought the urge to argue with Kylie. She wondered if that was how her parents felt about her, when she was being stubborn.

  The music in the pub tapered off to silence, then the live band began to play at about ten times the volume.

  Tianne shouted across the table, “I hear they do some great covers!”

  Kylie loosened her crossed arms and nodded to the beat of the drums, her eyes closed.

  Tianne threw her hands in the air and gave Nora a now what gesture. Nora raised her shoulders in bewilderment, then refilled all their glasses from the pitcher.

  For the next hour, they listened to music and shouted praise about the band. Some guys came over to offer to buy them drinks in exchange for sharing the table—it was getting crowded in the pub—and Nora was shocked when the guys paid almost as much attention to her as they did to Tianne and Kylie.

  The guys were cute, but they were way too young. Still, it was nice to get the attention.

  *

  On her way home from the pub, Nora considered a
sking the cab driver to drop her off at Bobby's place. The guys at the bar had been so cute, and young.

  Instead, she went home and signed up for an online dating service. Thirsty, she drank two of her dad's beers from the fridge and giggled to herself as she filled out her profile. Under the section for interests, she typed in three things she'd never done before: mime training, bird watching, and wild bull riding. She giggled. Would people get that she was joking? She thought better of it and deleted them, filling in her interests with the same boring things every woman says, about hiking and blah-blah. She laughed and made the last line blah-blah.

  She scrolled through the men's profiles until a familiar word popped out at her: amputee. The man attached to the description was thirty-two, and handsome as the devil. She sent him a flirt message, which was basically a wordless email to ask him to check her out.

  The dating system asked her for a photo for her profile, so she pulled open some recent digital photos that were on her computer.

  Her mouth dropped open in shock. These photos were from before her surgery.

  That nose! It was a honker!

  She'd gotten used to her new appearance so quickly, that these old photos didn't look like her. There wasn't even an out-of-focus or from-a-distance photo that matched her current looks. She turned on her little web cam. The device had come with her computer, but she'd never had any desire to use it until now, probably because of her nose. She captured a few cute shots. Her makeup was smudged from the long day she'd had, but the pictures were cute enough. She loaded one up, clicked off her lamp, and rested her eyes “for a minute.” She fell asleep on her bed with her clothes and prosthetic still on.

  *

  In the morning, Nora felt very foolish. She got in to work at ten, two hours late, and avoided talking to Kylie, who was on the phone with concert promoters all morning, talking REALLY LOUD and laughing merrily.

  Some of the petals were falling off Nora's flower arrangement, and she finally got around to opening up the card to see what Murray had to say.