Different Kind of Beauty

by Sylvia McNicoll

  “That would be nice,” she said squeezing my shoulder. Then we went down to the family room together. Debra signed Gwen’s book and chatted with her about the techniques and materials she used on it.

  I lay down near Beauty’s crate with my head beside hers.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Gwen suddenly called, when she noticed where I was.

  “Nothing, nothing, she just had a scare last night.” I told her about the jackhammer shaking up the walk just as Beauty stepped on it.

  “Really?” Gwen nodded. “Poor thing. I once had a dog who heard a firecracker go off and refused to go out at night ever again.”

  “Why don’t you call the trainer?” Debra suggested.

  “Because they might ask for her back right away.”

  “Ohhh,” Gwen said. “You should give Scott a call. I bet he could think of a way to cheer Beauty up. He’s crazy about her. Talks about you two all the time.”

  “My goodness,” Debra said slyly. “You’re awfully trusting with your boyfriend.”

  “Yes, well, I know he thinks of Liz as his little sister.”

  I felt my face flame up and couldn’t trust myself to say anything back. When the phone warbled twice to signal long distance, I was happy to run and answer it.

  “Hawow, Deb?” A slurred voice called.

  My heart froze. It couldn’t be. “This is Elizabeth,” I answered.

  “Little sister,” the voice sputtered. It didn’t sound like Rolph at all. For an artist, he had always seemed too much in control, and he usually spoke in crisp business-speak. “Could you just halp me out? Get your sister to talk to me. Tell her I lawwve her so bad. I just need her to give me a chance, yah know?”

  Kyle

  The Party

  “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” Maddie cornered me after class that afternoon. “Ryan’s bragging all over school how you got someone to buy beer for him.”

  “What do you care?” I asked, grinning inwardly, because it was great knowing she did.

  “You think I want you to turn into some kind of loser just because I left you? What do you think I am?”

  “Like you make or break me? I’m not turning into a loser, Maddie. I just drove a Mustang at lunchtime. And this weekend, I’m going to have more fun than I ever had with you.” I tried to walk away from her then, but I didn’t want to hit her with my cane. So I turned around and bumped into the wall.

  “Did you hurt yourself? Here, let me help.” A girl’s voice spoke at me and a soft hand touched my shoulder. “It’s Rebecca.” She pulled me away from the wall.

  “Rebecca?” I repeated. Maybe Ryan had the right attitude about my blindness. Maybe I should just milk it. I smiled at Rebecca, as though bumping into walls agreed with me. “Do you mind escorting me to my math class?” Rebecca didn’t mind at all. And when I asked her to come to Ryan’s party later in the week, she even said she would drive. So there, Madison, I can too live without you.

  I asked my little sister to give me the once-over to make sure my shoes matched and I didn’t have any toothpaste on my shirt. When Rebecca came to the door, I heard Shawna’s low whistle of approval.

  “Kids.” I shrugged at Rebecca as I took her arm. “You want me to drive?” I asked.

  Rebecca laughed too hard and long at that one. “That’s a good one. Ha, ha! What a great sense of humor!” The car shrieked as we pulled out of the driveway. I liked that. It’s what I would have done. As we drew closer to Ryan’s house, we could already hear the music blaring.

  Poom, poom-chhh. Poom, poom-chhh.

  You think you really love her,

  but your love may fade away.

  Poom, poom-chhh.

  Only one song in the whole universe. The radio played it constantly and every time I heard it, I swear the rapper sounded angrier and angrier. I liked that about him and found myself starting to like the song. It was such a long rap, too, that even after we’d parked and got Rebecca’s stash of beer into a cooler, we still had time to dance to it. “Think about it, think about it!” I yelled out when the rapper sang the chorus.

  For supper I had eaten only vegetable soup and taco salad, hold the taco—this to save some carbos for the party junk I might snack on. Mom insisted. When Ryan forced a beer into my hand, I realized I might have to use up my carbo allowance on this bottle.

  Chug-a-lugging as I swayed from foot to foot, I almost gagged. Bleah, why did anyone drink this stuff? It bubbled bitter all around the sides of my mouth. I even felt the bubbles in my jaw joints up into my ears. But I did feel thirsty, and if I just drank the one, Ryan wouldn’t make a big deal.

  Somehow, when I put the empty down, another full one ended up in my hands. We danced slower and slower, Rebecca’s body pressed warm into mine, and this bottle didn’t taste nearly as foul as the first.

  “There’s a guitar on the shelf there.” Rebecca paused as though she was pointing.

  “Yeah, OK, so there’s a guitar over there. Do I look like Jeff Healey?”

  “Who’s that? No, I just heard you play at the assembly last year and I thought you could maybe sing something for me.”

  I shrugged my shoulders to mean, Oh sure, someday, when I get around to it. But Rebecca dragged me to a couch and replaced my beer with the guitar.

  By that time I felt really good—maybe even a little buzzy. I strummed and tuned the thing for a bit first. Then I really put everything into a song I had written for Maddie. It made me a little sad, but when I finished it wasn’t only Rebecca clapping.

  “Hey, man, sing another one, you’re making the chicks mellow.” Ryan’s beery breath blew out at me. So after a beer break I sang another. The girls kept asking for more. Finally I started rapping that stupid song all the radios were constantly playing, but I made up my own words.

  I thought you’d always love me

  But you dumped me in a day.

  Think about it. Think about it.

  Everybody joined it on the last line and they sounded just as angry as I did.

  You kissed me like you meant it

  But your heart had gone astray.

  Think about it. Think about it.

  I had another big gulp of beer.

  I thought my life was over

  When I watched you walk away.

  Think about it. Think about it.

  The chorus boomed so loud around me, I swear I could feel the vibrations up through my feet.

  Then I found another woman

  And I found I still could play.

  This time, as the chorus welled up around me, I yelled out, “And now I’ll never have to think about it again!”

  Woo-hoo! Everyone laughed and cheered. “Hey, you’re really great, man!” “I like your version of the song better.” “You should send in a demo to the radio.”

  Ah, what did they know? Still it felt good, even if my head was cottony and my stomach swirled. After another beer and another couple songs, Rebecca told me her curfew had been about ten minutes ago. “Jus’ a second darlin’, I need to go tinkles.” I tried to get up by myself but my roadie grabbed my arm right away and led me to the bathroom.

  “Thanks, Becky, you’re a real peach.” Those were my last words before I hurled.

  I didn’t feel nearly so bad when I’d finished and I thought, Hmm . . . maybe I won’t even need an extra shot of insulin, now that all those carbos are in the bowl-o. I washed up and rinsed out my mouth with water.

  “Do you have a stick of gum?” I asked Rebecca when she drove me up to my house.

  “No, but here’s a mint.” She pushed a round, smooth candy into my mouth before I could tell her how much I hated mints.

  “Uh, thanks. Thanks for everything,” I said and kissed her lightly at the door. Then I grabbed hold of the handle, pressed down on the latch and pushed through.

  “Hey, hey! Come out, wherever you are. I’m home and wasted,” I called as I stumbled into the entranceway. No one answered. What? No one had waited up?

  Well,
that was certainly fine with me. Just perfect, matter a fact. I was gonna get away with getting smashed, for cryin’ out loud. This was great. As I tripped over some shoes, the bathroom door creaked open. Whoops, who is it? I wondered.

  “You smell,” Shawna complained at me. My luck was holding out.

  “I know you are but what am I?” I answered back. Why doesn’t that make any sense? I wondered, the moment the words left my lips.

  “You’re drunk.”

  I took a deep breath, belched and then gave her the best zinger comeback my cottony brain cells could think of. “So what?”

  “Sooooo…I’m telling.”

  I ignored her, headed for my room and, as dozy as I felt, pricked my finger for my nightly blood-sugar test. Damn, that hurt—always did, no matter what. I tried to squeeze my blood onto the test paper, but bled almost everywhere else. Then I dozed for a minute, waiting to hear what the voice box attached to the Glucometer would say.

  NOT ENOUGH BLOOD, it finally announced.

  Damn, I had to prick my finger again. This time I squeezed the blood right into the divot on the strip. Take that, you vampire. I felt pretty rotten by now—exhausted, like I could sleep forever, and headachy. The mallets had returned, pounding on the back of my useless eyes. A minute passed, and the vampire spoke again, loud and clear.

  CALL THE DOCTOR.

  “Yeah, right. Like he’s gonna answerrr at two in the morning.” I stumbled back to the door. “I’ll just walk all the carbos off. That’s what I’ll do.” I grabbed my cane and tap-swished back down the hall, out the door and down the walk. Block one, block two—I had no problem crossing the intersections tonight. No sirree. Block three, block four. Oh man, what was happening to me? Suddenly, a million knives jabbed into my brain cells. I juss have ta sit down, right here.

  I folded my legs and then felt myself sliding, melting… and then nothing.

  CHAPTER 8

  Elizabeth and Beauty

  Dog Therapy

  “I’m sorry, I can’t help you,” I told Rolph. Well, Deb was chatting away with Gwen, having a good time. Was I going to interrupt that, so she could talk to a drunk? How embarrassing would that be for her, with Gwen sitting right there, even if he had something to say that she wanted to hear?

  I hung up.

  “Wrong number,” I lied to no one in particular and smiled.

  “Maybe I will give Scott a call,” I told Gwen. Let’s just see if he thinks of me as a kid sister. “He can help me walk Beauty. If we carry her part of the way, and there’s no noise, she should get over it eventually.”

  “Great. If you want to take her over to Scott’s now, I’ll come with you,” Gwen said.

  Turned out Beauty was far too heavy to carry, but we coaxed as we dragged her. “Look how nice it is outside, girl. Not too hot, not too cold.” She looked up at me and stepped forward slowly, tail hanging. When we finally got to Scott’s, it took ten dog biscuits to lure Beauty on to Gwen’s house.

  Which is when Scott kissed Gwen good-bye, as I watched. Slow, easy, his lips gentle on hers—that kiss looked no different from the one we’d shared. What exactly did that mean? Were we getting married in fifteen years or not? I had the feeling Scott didn’t know either, and we had nothing much to say on the way home after that.

  It took only two biscuits to walk Beauty back. At least she’s getting over the jackhammer, I thought as we turned down our walk. But then a bus rumbled up behind, sishing just a little as it slowed down for the stop sign. Beauty bucked like a wild bronco. When I got the door open, she bolted for her crate.

  By Saturday, I was still bribing her and dragging her on short walks. Always there would be a bus, and Beauty would drag me straight home. Mom happened to be at the house for Beauty’s daily dash to the crate. “If she doesn’t like walks anymore, how can she possibly be a guide dog? You have to call Canine Vision, Liz. Don’t put it off any longer.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and swallowed hard. It was so unfair. Beauty had been the perfect dog until that jackhammer. Now she didn’t even make a good pet. She hardly wagged her tail anymore; she didn’t jump up to greet me.

  I sat beside her crate and stared into her sad golden eyes.

  “I’ll try to keep you if you flunk, girl. You know that I’ll always love you.” She licked my face with her warm tongue and made me feel better.

  So I made the call. I didn’t get through to the head trainer right away, but I did leave a detailed message about Beauty’s problem. He called me back later and I explained how Beauty acted around buses—and any loud noises, really, since that jackhammer.

  “What a tough break. We should really take her back right away. Maybe we can retrain her.”

  “No! Please, whatever you do I could try here at home.”

  “Well, it’s a long shot, and it means a lot of work for you.”

  I couldn’t give Beauty up like this. I didn’t want to give her up at all, when it came right down to it. But to abandon her when she was depressed and disgraced? Never. “I want to try. Anything.”

  “All right. What you have to do is gradually accustom her to noise in positive situations. So when you feed or play with her, do it with lots of sounds around her. Start with a drum—beat it softly as she eats. Talk to her, calm her. Then beat the drum louder. Later, you can tape the sounds of the bus and play them. Build up to jackhammer sounds. Do you think you can handle this?”

  “Yes,” I said, crossing my fingers. I remembered Beauty’s white-eyed panic when that jackhammer began, her trembling and her million-mile-an-hour heartbeat. And I knew how she acted now. She wasn’t even the same dog. But I couldn’t say no to the trainer, because it would be like losing faith in a best friend.

  “Elizabeth, some dogs recover from this kind of fright. But no matter how hard you work, Beauty may not. Just do your best.”

  I swallowed hard as I hung up, and decided that no matter what, I would never give up.

  Next I called Scott, and he came over immediately with his bongo drums.

  He put on the radio so he could beat the drum to some music. The plan was I’d offer Beauty biscuits close to the drum. Scott patted the skin softly. Hardly more than a plop sound came out.

  “It’s OK, Beauty. Good girl. No one’s going to hurt you.” I threw a bacon-flavored mini bone outside her crate so she would at least step out, but she just ignored it. “There are dogs going to bed hungry all over this world, you know.” That was desperation talking—actually, more like Mom. And it was useless, anyway, to reason with a depressed Lab.

  But then we had a tiny breakthrough. Beauty’s favorite Elvis tune started on the radio. Her ears lifted up and she stepped out of the crate.

  “All right, Beauty!” Scott dropped to his hands and knees, wagging his own butt. Beauty’s lip lifted and she started to wag too. Scott motioned for me to grab the drums. I played along softly, but she didn’t even notice. I hadn’t seen Beauty so happy in a week. When Scott started to howl so did Beauty, but it was with pure joy. By that time I was pounding the bongos and she still didn’t care.

  When the song ended, I gave Beauty the same treat she had ignored before, and she crunched it all down with her usual grin. “Good girl, Beauty,” I said.

  “So now all we have to do is slip a headset on her and walk her to Elvis’s songs everywhere we go.” Scott smiled.

  He was teasing, but I snapped my fingers. “You’re right! I mean, we can bring a tape player.”

  “Sure!” Now Scott sounded excited too. “And eventually we can add some sound effects.”

  “If she hears ‘You Ain’t Nothing But a Hound Dog’ playing on the bus with a jackhammer…”

  “She’ll be cured!” Scott finished my sentence.

  I felt so happy I threw my arms around Scott and kissed him. He ended up kissing me back. Mmmm…I forgot everything for a while, until Beauty nuzzled at my hand.

  Scott pulled away first and cleared his throat. “Why don’t we try out our theory right now?”
>
  “Um, all right, sure,” I said and tracked down my player to Dad’s workbench. The batteries were old and we still had to tape the song from Dad’s CD. It turned out to be a pretty poor reproduction. Still we set off, not dragging Beauty for the first time in a week.

  She wagged her tail as she trotted along, glowing like the September sun, all bright and happy again. We walked block after block like that, all the way to the park. The battery did die, but by that time Beauty didn’t seem to care as she sniffed trees and bushes, newfound old friends.

  Then we heard the squeal of tires in the distance.

  Beauty started shrinking into herself, as though she was gathering force to spring off in the other direction. “Easy girl, easy,” I said to her. A souped-up Mustang convertible with oversized tires peeled out around the corner. As the car rumbled closer, I could hear the stereo pumping out a rap song. Poom, poom-chhh. Poom, poom-chhh. High on bass, low on melody. You think you’ll always love her, but your love may fade away. The singer’s voice sounded angry. But remarkably, Beauty held her ground. After a moment, she even wagged her tail. I realized then it didn’t have to be Elvis singing to make Beauty happy. “Oh my gosh, Beauty. Don’t tell me you actually like rap!” But it was clear she really did.

  On the way home, Beauty walked at her usual brisk pace. Still, had I thought of it I would have stopped at the variety store for some more batteries.

  “I guess you need to take her on a bus ride now. Well, I’ll see you at school,” Scott said. He looked at me and I knew he wanted to kiss me. I saw the white spots in his cheeks show up. So I reached up and kissed him. Gwen could go suck an egg.

  Sunday morning I woke up really early and couldn’t sleep. That’s when it hit me. Batteries. Just to keep Beauty on the right track, I should go to the convenience store with her and get some. There wouldn’t be any buses or construction noises now. Then I could bring her on the bus to the ultrasound Monday. I slipped on my jeans and a sweater and rushed downstairs to visit her.

  “Hey, Beauty!” I whispered, half scared she’d only give me her depressed stare. But she leapt up, wagging. “Good girl. Wanna go for a walk?”