by Dyan Sheldon
Loretta managed to distract me from my own problems for a while by griping and groaning the whole way into town. You’d think she was really suffering, the way she was carrying on. Tugging at her skirt, complaining about how the shoes made her walk. Then we swung onto the main street where most of the stores and cafés and stuff like that are and she developed a major case of paranoia. Loretta, the girl who couldn’t give a used tissue what people think of her, was suddenly convinced that everybody was looking at her. And? People always look at her (because she’s weird and says odd things and wears mismatched socks), but that never bothered her. The difference was that now they were looking at her in a good way. They were thinking, Wow, she’s hot! Not, Wow, she’s peculiar! So she should’ve been happy. But no, Loretta always has to be contrary. She wasn’t at all happy. She said she felt like a dog. (Quel ironic, right? If either of us looked like a dog, it wasn’t Loretta!)
We weren’t in town more than fifty-six seconds when who do I see sashaying towards us but Lissa Jamison (that year’s prom queen) and Suzanne Migas (almost that year’s prom queen). Lissa was texting and Suzanne was talking. The three of us weren’t in the same circle, but we were in circles that overlapped and rubbed up against each other now and then. Friendly, if not exactly friends. (Okay, not super friendly, but friendly enough. Lissa once asked me where I got my blue cashmere top.) I held my breath and waited for their reactions. They glanced at us the way you do when you know someone’s ahead of you and you don’t want to bump into them, then they smiled and nodded at Loretta. And sailed past me like ships passing a monotonous landscape.
I wasn’t sure if I was more relieved or annoyed that Lissa and Suzanne saw Loretta but didn’t see me. More relieved, probably. At least they weren’t going to get online and blab to the world and its relatives and friends that I’d gone geek. Wait’ll you see ZiZi Abruzzio! She looks like a guy… And then it happened again. And again. People (male people, mostly) looked twice at Loretta, they smiled at Loretta, but they didn’t see or smile at me. Like I was a shadow beside her. A very faint shadow. So I didn’t have to worry about being seen – all I had to worry about was being trampled to death by people who didn’t know I was there!
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Loretta grumbled. “What is wrong with you? Even now, you can’t stop looking at yourself in any reflective surface.”
“You mean even now that I’m so nondescript I could rob a crowded bank and get away with it – since no one would remember what I look like?”
Loretta sighed like she’s the only person on the planet who is ever reasonable. “I thought you were all worked up because you thought someone would see you. Now you’re worked up because no one has.”
“I’m human. I’m inconsistent.” I glanced over at the deli. Shimmering over the jars of artichokes and sun-dried tomatoes was my own ghost. If you looked closely, you could just about see the girl I once was, but was no more. No wonder no one saw me. Even the guy in the bait and tackle shop who always calls me honey stood in the doorway and watched me go by like I was made of air. “And anyway the only reason I’m looking in windows is to make sure I’m still here.”
“Pinch yourself,” said Loretta. “If you don’t feel it, you are somewhere else.”
“You know,” I said as we walked along. “I think we’ve already proved that I’m right. If you dress plain, you are plain. The most important thing is how you look.”
“No, it isn’t,” argued Loretta. “We already know that boys have better eyesight than brains. What you’ve proved is that those girls we saw who you think are so great are better at recognizing clothes than faces. It’s all the same superficial garbage. It’s who you are that matters for anything important, not whether or not you have blonde hair and blue eyes and wear a short dress.”
“But how you look changes how you’re seen.” I swear, if Loretta was a wall, even Superman wouldn’t be able to knock her down. “You know that’s true! People aren’t looking at you because you’re really smart and are worried about the fate of the planet. They’re looking at you because you’re pretty.”
“I get that, Zi. But my point is that they’re never going to know how smart or how worried about the degradation of the planet I am if all they care about are my breasts. That’s why we should dress the way we want, not conform to some warped cultural ideal.”
We got to the café and this kind of hip-looking guy held the door open for Loretta, and she sailed through. Then he practically knocked me over coming out while I was trying to follow her in.
We agreed not to argue over lunch. It’s bad for digestion. Loretta said she heard the black-bean burrito bowl was really good. Where did she hear that? When? Neither of us had ever been there before. Loretta said someone mentioned it. So we both got that (and it was really good), and I was so disoriented with all the stress that I ate the whole thing without once wondering how many calories were in it. But lunch was cool. We both relaxed and felt normal. Plus, it wasn’t even Day One really and already we both had funny stories. The laughing made me feel better about everything. I figure that so long as you can laugh at something, it can’t really be that bad. It’s when people don’t laugh that they start throwing themselves or other people off rooftops and stuff like that. We were still laughing when we left the restaurant.
And then Loretta stopped laughing. Her face turned red under the make-up and this look came onto her face. Like it was Christmas and she got everything she wanted. I followed her eyes. One of Loretta’s geeky science friends was coming towards us. The tall and weedy-looking one, with too-long hair and a silver star in one ear. We do go to the same school, and he and Loretta are space freaks and stargazers together, so I kind of knew him. We’d even had one or two classes together. Not that he’d ever spoken to me or anything like that. (I am so not his type of person, never mind type of girl.) He didn’t even speak to me that time he came over when I was at Loretta’s. I don’t know if he was surprised to see me there or what, but he tripped over the hooked rug, ricocheted off the fridge, got hit in the head by falling boxes of cereal and landed in the cat food. I tried not to crack up because Loretta looked as embarrassed as he did, but it wasn’t really possible. Seriously. Quel hilarious or what? He only stayed long enough to leave, so I never knew why he was there in the first place. Anyway, it wasn’t until I saw the Christmas look on Loretta’s face that the light went on in the attic of my brain. Loretta Reynolds had a crush on whatever he’s called! Maybe she was a lot more of a girl than I’d thought.
He was going to walk right past us, but she grabbed his arm. Boldly. So then I remembered his name. It’s Gabriel (like the angel, but really he looks more like an ostrich). They started talking about the Astronomy Club (that’s what I mean about space freaks!) – at least Loretta did, he was mainly nodding. I stood there, waiting for them to finish, warily scoping the street, but though I saw several people I knew, no one started waving frantically at me or calling my name. The way they would’ve a couple of days ago.
And then I heard Star Boy say, “We haven’t been introduced…”
I refocused. Since it was just the three of us standing there, he had to be talking to me. Was he serious? I mean, maybe no one had done formal introductions (we were in high school, not the government) but we’d been in the same school for three years. How could he think he’d never seen me before? Even Loretta was surprised. There was a pause long enough to tie a shoelace before she said, “Oh, I’m sorry. Where are my manners? ZiZi, this is Gabe. Gabe, ZiZi.”
He actually grabbed my hand and shook it like an old man would. “You should come, too,” said Gabe. “It’s the best meteor showers. It’ll be fun.”
Of course it would be. Staring up at the sky looking for shooting stars practically defines the concept of fun.
Gee thanks. I was smiling at a mad man. I’ll put that on my calendar.
Loretta laughed as we started walking again. “Was that amazing, or what, Zi? He’s seen you like a million times and he didn�
��t know who you are.”
“My only consolation is that he didn’t seem to know you, either.”
But it wasn’t much of a consolation. It wasn’t just that I was in the background, it was like I wasn’t even in the picture. The invisible girl. Which is kind of funny since, when I was little, I thought it would be totally cool to be able to make myself invisible. That would’ve been my superpower of choice. Now you see her, now you don’t. I figured it was way better than being able to fly or jump over buildings or whatever. Think of all the advantages! You could go and come as you pleased. You could never be grounded. Forget that. You’d never get in any trouble because you’d never get caught. You could pretty much do what you wanted. Always. Petty thefts. Exclusive parties. Gala openings. Nobody could stop you. Plus, when Catie Coulson and I were best friends, I used to fantasize about being invisible so I could follow her around without her knowing and see what she was up to. (And hear what she was saying about me. It would have saved me a lot of time and mortification.) Quel naive! Because now that I was invisible, I wasn’t sure that I was liking it at all.
Loretta
For the first time in my life I’m late for work, and that’s only the beginning
I had a full-time job at Chelusky’s Hardware and Lumber that Summer. I’d begun working there part-time the year before. At first, I was just a sales assistant, but besides the hardware and the lumber Mr Chelusky offers a handyman service for people like my parents who can’t change a doorknob, and eventually he made me part of that, too – as a helper, to begin with, and then, when I’d proved myself, for small jobs on my own. But, towards the end of June, Leroy Pine fell off his kitchen table changing a light bulb – evidence that most accidents really do happen at home. Leroy ended up in traction. Summer is a busy time in the lumber world, and, with one man down, Mr Chelusky needed someone temporary to take his place. He offered me Leroy’s position till school started again, and I didn’t waste a second thinking it over; it was just what I needed to beef up my savings for college.
My usual work clothes – whether I was at Chelusky’s or doing odd jobs in the neighbourhood – were dungarees or a pair of old jeans and a flannel and a T-shirt – unless it was really hot and then it was just the T-shirt. If I was starting first thing in the morning, I got up, washed, pulled on my clothes, had a good breakfast and left the house. That was usual. But now that I was on the other side of the Einstein-Rosen bridge, my routine had changed drastically.
On that momentous Monday – Day One of the bet – I set my alarm an hour early so I had enough time and didn’t have to rush. I couldn’t get in the bathroom. Yoga teachers don’t work nine to five; my mother teaches a class for people who want to twist themselves into complicated positions before they go to their jobs, and she was already in there. I decided I might as well dress before I washed and put on somebody else’s face. I’d already picked out a pink skirt ZiZi found in the charity shop and a wrap-around top of hers that also contained a great deal of pink; a colour not previously associated with me. When I went back to the bathroom, my father had taken possession. I had to be grateful that I don’t have any siblings or I might never get in.
When the bathroom was finally free, I taped ZiZi’s instructions on the wall next to the mirror and lined up my collection of bottles and tubes and pencils on the sink in the order they went on – to save me confusion and time. At last, I was ready to begin. There was no more splashing some soap and water on my face. I had scrubs and gels and moisturizers. Apply liberally … apply sparingly … rinse well … pat dry … don’t rub, said the instructions. I applied, I rinsed, I patted, I didn’t rub. That was just the preparation; then came the make-up itself. After every application I peered at my reflection. Was that straight? Was that too little? Was that too much? I wished the light were better. Previously, in my life, I hadn’t needed any special illumination to get myself ready – as long as it wasn’t dark as a cave, I was good to go – but now I did. Already, I was wondering if I should get a make-up mirror like ZiZi’s. I made a mental note that if she didn’t give up by the end of the week I’d seriously consider buying one. Mercifully, I didn’t have inches of hair that needed to be plaited or twisted or carefully brushed; but I did have to mousse it and shape it – God forbid it should just sit on my head the way it grows naturally. When I was finally finished with all that, I had exactly enough time to have a mug of tea and a slice of toast. Which was the least I’d had for breakfast since the week I was ill with the flu.
Yet, despite my best efforts, I was still late for work. Not hours late, but late enough that the grille was up, the door was open, the lights were on and Mr Chelusky was at the register. He looked over when he heard me come in. I guess he was expecting to see a builder on his way to a job and not me – sweaty and limp from pedalling so fast I could have won the yellow jersey in the Tour de France – because he looked surprised. “Can I help you, Miss?”
Mr Chelusky never called me “Miss”. He called me Lou.
“It’s me, Mr Chelusky, Loretta.”
“Loretta.” He didn’t sound certain, as if he was thinking, Which Loretta? Loretta Who?
“I’m sorry I’m late, Mr Chelusky.” The Loretta who works for you, that’s which Loretta. “It’s been an unusual morning. I promise it won’t happen again.”
“Loretta,” he said again. He smiled as if I’d caught him having a secret smoke out back. “I didn’t recognize you at first. Did you do something to your hair?”
I said yes. “I thought I’d lighten it a little for the Summer.”
“It looks good.” He nodded, agreeing with himself. “Different.” He wasn’t actually looking at my hair. He was having a taking-it-all-in look – like the first time you see pictures of Mars from a NASA rover, and can hardly believe what you’re seeing. “You’re all dressed up. You look very nice.” He actually chuckled – which was another thing he’d never done before. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a skirt before.”
Which translated meant that what he’d never seen before were my legs. What did these guys imagine I walked on?
“If you think this is dressed up, just wait till I show up in a ball gown.”
Mr Chelusky usually likes my jokes, but this one didn’t make him laugh. Still stuck on the skirt, he nodded again. “Well… So… What’s the special occasion? Is it your birthday?” I figured it was all the pink that had him befuddled; I’m more a shades-of-black kind of girl.
“No. No occasion. You know… I just felt like a change.”
He nodded. “That’s women for you. You’re like my wife. Always doing something different with her hair or moving the furniture around. Sometimes when I walk in the door, I think I’m in the wrong house.”
I hadn’t stopped smiling since I got there, but now I smiled even more. “Change is the nature of the universe, you know.”
“Is it?” said Mr Chelusky. “I didn’t know that. So I guess the universe is female, too.” He came from behind the counter. “Now you’re here, I’ll put the things out front.”
At night, the things that are displayed outside the store – wheelbarrows, ladders, rubbish bins, etcetera; and at that time of year, lawn mowers, garden furniture and paddling pools as well – were moved inside. I grabbed two bins.
“Loretta! What are you doing?” He sounded as if we were on a mountain and I was too close to the edge and about to fall.
“I’m helping you.”
“No, no. I won’t hear of it. You get behind the counter. I’ll move everything out.”
“But we always do it together.”
“Not today.” Mr Chelusky winked. Yet one more Chelusky first. “You don’t want to mess up your good clothes. Besides, we’ll have a lot more happy customers if the first person they see is a pretty girl and not a balding old codger like me.” He’d never before called me a pretty girl, either.
“But—”
“No more buts. Maybe you could rearrange the counter a little. Make it look
more attractive.”
Attractive? The counter in a hardware store? Exactly how attractive can you make displays of torches, keyrings, measuring tapes and Stanley knives?
“You want me to go get some flowers to decorate the box of builders’ pencils?”
He didn’t hear me; he was already hauling things outside.
Mr Chelusky was propping ladders against the front of the building when Vinnie Polo came in the back way. He glanced at me long enough to see that I wasn’t who he was looking for and then spotted Mr Chelusky outside. “Oi, Charlie!” he called. “Nobody here yet? That shipment of tiles’s come in. I need some help unloading.”
“I’m here, Vinnie.” I practically vaulted over the counter – or would have if I’d been wearing jeans. “I’ll give you a hand.”
“Loretta?” He laughed. “I didn’t— Well … will you look at you.” Which, of course, was what he was doing – apparently never having seen me before. “But it’s okay. You’re all dressed up. I’ll wait till one of the guys is free.”
