Pretty Girls Don't Cry

by Tony J Winn

  The tiny card and arrangement was not from Murray after all.

  It read: I've been thinking about you and missing your voice. Aaron.

  She immediately googled him, looking for recent photos. With such a common name, it was hard to track him down, but she did.

  Aaron Edward had come a long way from being the skinny boy at summer camp who could play three chords on a guitar. According to his official bio, he'd written and played guitar on several Grammy-nominated songs. He had spent some time in both Nashville and Los Angeles, but this year had returned to his hometown to set up his own small recording studio. The bio didn't mention doing freelance work for radio stations for a few modest paychecks, and Nora wondered, if he didn't need the money, had Aaron been coming to the station to see her?

  One of the interns came by just then with another bouquet and set it on her desk. She opened the card immediately this time.

  The card, which had a teddy bear on it, read: I heard what you said, and I'm still waiting for you to meet me by the lake. Aaron (Your Eddie)

  *

  After work, Nora drove by the address of Aaron's new recording studio. It was just outside of the city, past the point where tall, lush trees overtook houses as the main features of the land. She drove slowly, looking at the building set high on the hill. She couldn't tell if it was new construction or had been there for years, as the style was a rustic A-frame made of logs, featuring large expanses of glass picture windows. Land in that area was not inexpensive, nor were houses of that size. The Grammy-nominated musician had done well for himself.

  Nora's right leg ached. If it had been Aaron who'd lost a foot in the accident, would she be the one with the deluxe house? Would Aaron be on a career path that involved news and weather updates on the hour, every hour, until the end of time?

  *

  That night, Nora dreamed she was trying to escape a building to see Aaron. Every door and window was locked, and she ran up and down corridors, searching for a key. She kept opening doors to a wrecked motorcycle, and her mother, in tears. She woke up soaked in sweat, the sheets tangled around her.

  Chapter 8

  Over the next two weeks, Nora kept expecting to see Aaron in the station, but he never came. There were no more flowers. She didn't dare contact him, but she scoured every page of his official website for news or hints about his whereabouts. He could have been out of town for business, or he could have forgotten about her. It would be better for Nora and her family if the latter were true.

  Kylie had been professional but cool toward Nora since the night they'd discussed Kylie's eating habits. She wore layers of clothing and cardigans inside the office, citing the coolness of the air conditioning, but Nora suspected it was to disguise her thin frame. Nora's heart ached to see her friend slipping away.

  She also missed Bobby. They'd exchanged a few emails, confirming that whatever they'd had was probably over, and she felt relief. Friends with benefits was not casual enough. One night only with a guy was what Nora preferred, from now on. She stopped shaving her legs, and she tried to stop missing Bobby, though it was difficult when he phoned her for advertising business and treated her like a stranger.

  It's still me, she wanted to say, but she knew better than to try and be friends with a guy she'd slept with. There were other people out there, anyway.

  She'd been exchanging emails with the handsome man from the dating website, and they had a date for Friday. He had dimples. On Friday morning, she shaved her legs, even as she gave herself a very strict talking-to about not being a slut.

  *

  Ten minutes before she went on air for her last segment of the week, Murray finally cornered her for his official apology. He'd been on her periphery for weeks, but she knew that couldn't last forever. She was trapped. She was in the studio, which had only one door, and Murray was between her and it.

  Before he could start, she said, “I am so sorry I hit you. That was completely wrong of me, and I assure you it won't happen again. I've got my temper under control now, I promise.”

  “This isn't how it's supposed to work,” Murray said grumpily. “I have to apologize to you.”

  “Fine. Done. I forgive you Murray, for your sins. Your sins have been absolved. Do I sign a sheet or something for you?”

  “I'm glad you slapped me.”

  Nora shut her mouth and listened.

  “Someone had to do it,” Murray said. “My life has been spiraling out of control for years. Nobody cared. Nobody cared about me, or how much I was suffering.”

  Quietly, Nora said, “I didn't know.”

  “I never told anyone. I covered up by acting out, but I didn't realize I was only hurting myself, and others, and my relationships.” He took a deep breath and let it out, eyes closed. “I want to mend my bridges. Or build them. Or whatever people who are healthy do.”

  He opened his eyes, and Nora felt like they were making eye contact for the very first time. Murray looked older than she remembered, and she thought of how difficult it must be for him to be the boss, managing so many young people, when they all joked with each other and socialized outside of work, but nobody invited Murray.

  She felt the shift inside her, the forgiveness, and though it pained her to be manipulated, she wanted to believe he was being sincere, and that people really could be sorry.

  With a little smile, Nora said, “I wouldn't know too much about healthy bridges. Seems to me, I burn my fair share of them down.”

  After a moment, Murray said, “Friends?”

  She stood and stretched her hand out to shake Murray's. “Nice to meet you,” she said. “Thanks for the mug, it's my new favorite.”

  They both looked at the rainbow-striped mug sitting next to the computer keyboard. Murray looked like he'd just had his day made. No, his week.

  *

  The blind date with Mr. Dimples was for coffee, even though Nora was starving for dinner. Coffee was more casual, and if it was a bust, easier to escape from. The dating website had recommended coffee, in a public place, as a first date.

  Nora looked around the coffee shop, wondering how many of the other couples there were on first dates. The place was an independent shop, in the part of the city where people walked big, black dogs on rope leashes, and outdoor advertising was covered in graffiti overnight. Nora's station didn't have a high rating in this area, as the people preferred to march to their own, individual drums.

  She was early, and took a seat facing the door. Her table was vintage from the '70s, the chair had duct tape on the seat, and neither piece of furniture matched another one in the place. Her date, whose name was Rex, strangely enough, came in the door, and all conversation in the three-quarters-full coffee shop ceased. There he was: an above-knee metal sports prosthetic on the right leg, attached to an athletic body in shorts and a sleeveless shirt—the kind Bobby wore outside of work.

  Rex had chin-length, tousled hair, and his dimples deepened when he spotted her and came over to introduce himself. She told him to get himself a beverage, and pointed to her own latte and the pile of crumbs where her biscotti had been.

  Rex strode to the counter, oblivious to stares, and ordered “the usual,” returning with a tea that smelled like flowers. The mug had World's Best Grandma written on it.

  Up close, in the aura of his charisma, Nora found herself short of words. She made a comment about the mug, and when Rex started at her quizzically, she realized she was holding her hand in front of her face, the way she used to, before the nose job. She dropped her hand and told herself to be confident. Rex was at least an eight, even without one leg, and she had to believe that after thousands of dollars of plastic surgery, she was a seven, or a six at minimum.

  They moved on from beverage comparisons to talk of work, and Rex said, “I imagine you're nervous about the restructuring. My friend Ivan said they're trading people back and forth like baseball players.”

  “Ivan?”

  “Yeah, he's in sports at the other station. Say
s that with the changes, heads are going to roll.”

  Nora stammered that she knew nothing about a restructuring, and asked him to start again, from the top.

  As Rex talked about what he'd heard from his friend, it gradually sank in. Her uncle, Don, was cashing in his chips. He'd been keeping salaries down in recent years to make the company more attractive to buyers, and now it was being sold.

  All around her, people typed on their laptops and drank their coffee and tea out of chipped mugs, Rex kept talking and showing off his dimples, and Nora's whole future dissolved. She wouldn't be inheriting the station. She might not even have a job.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Rex asked. “You keep rubbing your nose.”

  “This is a lot to take in. I might be losing my job, and I have almost no savings.”

  “Still paying off student loans?”

  “No. I just spent a fortune on ... well, a nose job. I had a little work done. Just got tired of having a face for radio.”

  Rex contemplated her nose, leaning forward to take a closer look. “I don't know why you'd do that to yourself.” There was a note of disgust in his voice.

  Nora recoiled as though she had just been slapped. Who was this stranger to have an opinion about her face and her life?

  He said, “Other people will always be shallow and skin deep, but this ...” He adjusted his prosthetic leg, bringing it out from where it had been tucked under the table. “This has really separated people for me. The ones who are worth knowing and the ones who aren't.”

  “Are you saying that, because I had cosmetic surgery to make myself feel better about my appearance, I'm not worth knowing?”

  He made a nonchalant gesture. “Come on, you didn't really do it for yourself. Women don't get those big breast implants for themselves either. It's all about attracting a rich man, isn't it?” He shook his head. “It's all about the wallet.”

  Nora imagined herself slapping the dimples off Rex's face. Then she imagined the other coffee shop patrons turning on her, the awful woman who attacked a man with a disability. He had a robot leg, for crying out loud. What kind of monster was she?

  She took a sip of her latte, which had turned cold and smelled sour. “So, do you have any summer vacation plans?”

  Rex leaned back in his chair, looking self-satisfied, and started talking about his marathon training.

  Nora took out her cell phone and said, “Oh no, friend emergency. This is really important, so I'll have to go. No, don't get up, enjoy your flower tea.”

  She held her head high as she left the cafe. To think, she'd actually worn matching underwear. What a waste of lace.

  *

  She reviewed the new information about the station being sold. It did make some sense, looking back. Uncle Don's new wife was younger than him by a decade, and she'd been working on him for years, trying to get him to travel around the world, but he'd been reluctant to leave town in case an emergency came up at the station. Nora guessed he'd finally caved.

  Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. She'd been wanting to change up her career for a while now, and this could be just the thing. What had Rex meant, that staff were being traded around like baseball players? She went straight home to tell her parents.

  *

  Nora arranged through Don's secretary to meet with him at the first available opportunity. On Tuesday morning, she went into Murray's office, where Don worked on days he was in, and closed the door behind her.

  “Uncle Don, I know about the sale.”

  “Yes, that's a familiar refrain. I've heard it from, oh, about half the staff so far.”

  “Not a very well-kept secret.” She took a seat, her body feeling lighter from the truth being in the open.

  “Your father was not happy with me,” he said with a chuckle. “The man works for the government. He's got a pension. He has no idea what it's like out in the real world. I don't know if this place will even be here five years from now, not to mention twenty or so years, when I shuffle off this mortal coil.”

  “Uncle Don, I'm not upset about you selling the company. Send me a postcard from your cruise and I'll be happy for you. I just can't believe you didn't tell me.”

  “You know I don't play favorites. I didn't tell anyone else, either. The loose lips were not from my side, I assure you.” Don stroked his beard in a similar fashion to Nora's father. His had more gray, and matched what little hair he had left. “So, kid, what'll it be for you? Do you want more money or less money?”

  “How is that even a choice?”

  “You'll relocate?” he asked.

  Nora picked up the snow globe on the desk between them and gave it a shake. “I'd like my desk a little closer to the window.”

  “You can take it up with HR when you get there. Your father thought this would be perfect for you to stretch out on your own. Your mother will keep your room exactly as it is, for when you visit.”

  Nora set the snow globe on the desk and watched the white flakes fall around an old-fashioned city square.

  “Oh, am I moving?” she asked. “Funny, I don't remember deciding to move anywhere.”

  “The cost of living, rent and whatnot, is more, but you'll have double your salary,” Don said. He explained about how the other company owned a number of stations across the country and they would be rebranding some of the stations and starting a few new ones. Nora would be their new morning voice, along with Stevey.

  Stunned, she said, “Where? Where am I moving to?”

  “Portland, obviously.”

  “Portland,” she said, and in that moment, it was obvious. The city was bigger than Eugene, but not far away, so she could easily visit. Sure, Portland. She liked the city, so why not?

  There was just one problem.

  “Mornings?” she said.

  “Don't tell me you're a night owl.”

  “With Stevey?”

  “You guys have great chemistry. It was Murray's idea. He thinks you're a star, and now that you're more confident about your appearance, you're ready to go on billboards and posters, and those bus ads.”

  Nora grabbed the snow globe and shook it again. She'd be only a few hours by car away from her family. She'd miss Tianne, of course, but they'd stay in touch. Never mind a new nose, Nora could have a whole new life if she was ready to make the leap.

  “I'll do it,” she said.

  “Really?” Don said, apparently surprised.

  “You thought I wouldn't?”

  “I guess I still see you as that scrappy little kid who gave me mud pies decorated with rabbit turds.”

  “The rabbit droppings were so perfectly round, and to be fair, I didn't know what they were. I thought they were plant seeds.”

  “You should tell that story on air. People really enjoy hearing more about your life.”

  Nora crossed her arms, realized how bad her body language was, and uncrossed them. “I'm an entertainer, not an exhibitionist.”

  “It's about the connection. People want to know you're human.”

  “And telling them about the mud pies I made when I was ten is going to do that?

  “Yes. How long have you been in radio? Four, five years now? You should know that.” He picked up the framed photo on the desk and turned it around to show Nora. Because they were in Murray's office, it was Murray's photo, not Don's. It was a picture of a black and white dog with an enormous pink nose. “This is Murray's dog, Rascal. He passed away six months ago from renal failure.”

  Nora's guts twisted up inside.

  “And now you know more about Murray,” Don said. “Tell me that wouldn't make a difference to you as a listener, if Murray had a show.”

  Nora pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, hard, to keep her composure.

  “Don't tell anyone about your new job just yet,” Don said. “We'll announce it officially next week. The lawyers are still doing the paperwork.”

  Nora nodded and left the office, her gait ungainly without her full attention.

 
*

  For the next week, Nora only spoke about the change with her parents. She and Stevey exchanged a few extra knowing looks, since they were going to be co-hosts in their new gigs, but they didn't talk about it once. Everybody knew, but played along that they didn't know.

  Nora continued trying to make conversation with Kylie, even though it hurt her pride that Kylie seemed to have abandoned their friendship over that one wrong move Nora had made, challenging her friend's health. Every rebuff of an offer to grab lunch together or even a walk to the color photocopier on the lower floor hurt Nora's pride, and she wondered if she even was a friend worth having. Tianne assured her she was, and that Kylie simply needed more time. Tianne didn't know the countdown to Nora's departure from the city had already begun.

  Finally, just after the official announcement about the corporate merger, and Nora and Stevey leaving became official, Kylie popped into the studio as Nora was getting ready for her show.

  “I totally thought you two were doing it,” Kylie said. “You and Stevey. Getting it on like Donkey Kong. You kept giving each other these weird looks, but now it all makes sense.”

  “I would have told you, but Don asked us not to. You're not mad at me for not telling you, are you? Or ... for anything else?”

  Kylie closed the door to the studio and sat in the guest chair. “I've been finding it difficult not to fall back into ... old habits.”

  “Do you mean anorexia?”

  At the sound of the word, Kylie grabbed her arms by the elbows and hunched smaller. She didn't say anything.

  Nora checked the time. The music bumper was playing, which meant thirty seconds until she had to be on the air, so she had to get to the point. “Do you want me to help you, find a group or a doctor for you? If you're nervous, I can make the phone calls. I can drive you to your appointments. My mother took me to all my doctors, and fittings, and physio. I guess your parents are pretty far away, huh?”

  Kylie's nod was almost imperceptible.

  “I'd hug you now, but I have to go live. You hang in there. I'm going to take care of you.”