But this was not that.
This chick with the pale skin, ridiculous hair and haunted eyes was not looking to get laid. That thought was so ridiculous P.J. almost smirked.
He stretched out his arm and held it still. “You into ink?”
Juliet shrugged, but leaned in to look. “People say they can cover scars.”
“Yeah, they can. One of these beauties is covering up a bullet hole.”
“Really?” Juliet’s eyes lit with interest and peered closely at the outstretched bicep. “Which one?”
A brief silence followed while P.J. held Juliet’s eyes with his own. Then, because he suddenly had a devilish urge to get a rise out of this woman, P.J. really couldn’t help himself.
“It’s not on my arm.” He said as his hand moved to unfasten the black belt that set low on his hips.
Then P.J. winked at Juliet.
He was instantly gratified to see Juliet’s pale face blush a bright pink. Then she took her bag and hurried to the door. The last thing she heard before the door closed behind her was the sound of his laughter.
It was a few days later that Juliet woke up to a beautiful day. Soft billowy clouds hung like giant puffs of cotton in a sky that was the color of a freshly hatched robin’s egg. A soft, cool breeze coaxed the wind chime into an uneven melody.
Juliet stepped out onto the porch with a hot cup of coffee in her hand. The wooden swing creaked and swayed as she tucked one leg under the other and inhaled deeply. The acrid aroma of the fresh coffee mixed with the tangy smell of pine. Juliet inhaled deeply and thought about the place that she now called home. The town itself was small and the shops on the main street were an eclectic mix of confectionaries, small restaurants, a pharmacy, a clothing thrift shop, and two or three trendy boutiques. There was a large common in the middle of the town that boasted a large, oval gazebo. On Sundays, the drum and bugle corps used the common to practice and the sounds of percussion and brass instruments floated through the air. The precise moves of the flag holders mixed with the happy twirl of batons as they were flown high in the sky and caught with expert precision.
Kids played jump rope and kick ball in the streets. Moms walked in tandem with their baby carriages on wide tree lined sidewalks. On the third Thursday of every month, there was a street festival.
Port Harbor was a friendly, peaceful, family oriented type of town. Layla had been right…it was the perfect place to begin again. Juliet felt a sense of comfort here and just hoped that it would last. Filled with cautious optimism about what the future might hold, Juliet drained her coffee and went in to take a shower. And although she knew she had come a long way, she still had not had the courage to look at her naked body in the mirror. She was under no illusions about her appearance. Her clavicle, hip, and knee bones were sharp as knives, and her belly was concave. It was pointless to wear a bra, but Juliet did anyway. She had found some of those stretchy jogging bras online. She had been working hard on getting healthy. Juliet ate mounds of green, leafy veggies and started each morning with a vitamin infused smoothie. A nightly bowl of rocky road and hot fudge helped with weight gain and a happy outlook. Two days ago, she had started the first period that she had had in over a year.
Juliet stepped out of the shower and cleared the mist on the round vanity mirror. Now, as she looked at her face, she noticed that her cheek bones had filled in a little. She certainly would never win a beauty contest, but it was a start. Juliet had also been working hard to rid herself of the reflexive tendency towards pulling out her own hair. Now, as Juliet turned her head first one way, then the other, she saw with relief that her efforts had been rewarded and the small patches had begun to grow in.
But still…clown hair.
When she had first arrived in town, Juliet had driven by a large shopping area right off the interstate. Although she hadn’t stopped for long, she remembered it as having lots of shopping options. If memory served, the area boasted a large automotive center, a half dozen chain restaurants, several big box retailers, an IMAX cinema center, a day spa, and a host of fashion and shoe stores.
It had been forever since Juliet had just been a girl spending the day at a shopping mall.
Juliet’s first stop was at an overpriced coffee barista where she ordered a mocha cappuccino that was served in an enormous cup and had a heart made with milk floating on the top. She sipped at the coffee while she perused a pamphlet telling which shops were located where. Juliet headed straight for the day spa. She looked at the menu of services and booked herself for the entire day. Ninety minute Swedish massage, microdermabrasion facial, mani-pedi with warm paraffin wax, eyebrows thinned and shaped, and lips hydrated and moisturized.
When it came to the haircut, Juliet held her breath while the stylist put a hand on his hip, walked around the chair, and pursed his lips. Juliet who was draped, seated, and facing the biggest mirror she had ever seen, began to try to smooth her porcupine like hair.
“I know it looks…”
“Non!” The stylist whose name badge said Rafael shushed her with a wave of his hand. “Can you not see that I am thinking!?” He hissed at her as he spun the chair around in a dramatic flair.
“Such a pretty girl with such ugly hair!!! How could you?! How could you?!” Then Rafael put his hand over his heart as though he was mortally wounded.
“Can you fix it?” Juliet asked with contrition.
“Hmm….” Rafael began to circle the chair again. He turned Juliet’s face from side to side several times as if considering whether or not to perform lifesaving surgery.
“Yes, yes. But you! You!” He hissed loudly and wagged his finger at her. “No talking!! You leave this to Rafael!”
With a good deal of tsking and moaning, Rafael set upon Juliet with flying shears. For what seemed like forever he snipped and foiled and fluffed. Finally, without warning he flung off the draping and spun Juliet’s chair around as if they were sharing a seat in the teacup ride at Disney. Juliet held on to the arms of the chair.
Then she gasped at her own reflection.
“I look…”
“Gorgeous, Dahlink!” Rafael interrupted with flourish.
Juliet touched the nape of her neck in fascination. Her hair had been brought back to its original sheen. Rafael in his wisdom, had added some deep copper tones that made Juliet’s every strand shine like a new penny. He had taken all those uneven ends, all those bald patchy bits and styled that whole mess into an adorable bob. The haircut made her neck look long, her ears look delicate and her eyes look huge.
The transformation was remarkable.
At the imperious snap of Rafael’s fingers, a beautiful Asian girl with a curtain of rich, black hair glided over to the station. She gracefully wielded the broom across the Mexican tiled floor. As Juliet watched pieces of her hair disappear, she was struck by the symbolism. The bad hair…uneven, tortured, brittle… being swept away to oblivion. Each strand symbolizing the shock and horror of a love lost and a life built on the most monstrous of lies.
Every lock held a story, every curl a regret.
With a snap of the dustpan, it was all gone.
And as Juliet looked at her reflection in the mirror, she vowed to do better, to be better.
She promised that she would set elevated expectations for herself and for her recovery and that she would live by them.
That night Lucy scrubbed her face and applied the three different facial creams she had bought at the spa. She slipped on the soft, new warm pajamas and put a set of fresh linens on the bed. Juliet lay her head on the pillow and dug deep into the magical world of Mary Stewart’s Camelot. With heavy eyelids she listened to the sound of the rain pattering down on the rooftop while she luxuriated in the feats of King Arthur’s noble knights.
For the first time in a long time, Juliet looked back with pleasure at the day she had had, and she looked forward to the day to come.
The monster loomed grotesque as its shadow grew longer and larger. Flaming eyes and a forked
tongue slithered out of a rotted skull and reached for Juliet. Loud screams of pain rang out and split the fetid air as each lash of the monster’s tongue burned and branded her. Cries of pulsing terror shattered through the darkness, as Juliet’s hands began to web and shimmer with thousands of crusty, chartreuse scales. Her tongue swelled in a mouth filled with sharply growing fangs. Juliet’s back arched hideously. The pleas of thousands pulsed all around her. She could not reach them; she could not save them. Juliet had become the monster.
Juliet’s eyes flew open, her hands fisted in her hair, her heart pounded inside her chest.
It took a moment for her to release the terror, to gather her wits, and to see through the darkness.
Juliet knew from experience that these nightmares not only took her mind places she did not want to go, but they took her body there, too. Juliet literally walked through her nightmares. She was wide awake now, but it would take several long seconds before her brain successfully transmitted that message to the rest of her body. It would take several long seconds before Juliet could move. So, she lay still behind a chair in the darkest corner of the bedroom. Knees to chest, shivering cold, and soaked in her own urine.
Using the arm of the chair for support, Juliet pulled herself up and then waited for the floor to stop spinning. She rubbed the sore spot on her scalp. Then with a small apology to Rafael, Juliet dumped the clump of hair that she held in her fist into the trash can. She stripped off her new, pee soaked pajamas. She mournfully wrapped the garments into a loose ball. She put them in the sink and filled the basin with hot soapy water.
Then Juliet put her hands to her face and cried.
After a full few minutes of torrential tears, Juliet tried to pull herself together. She tried to think of something positive that would counteract the disappointed way in which her perfect day had ended.
Think. Think. Think.
Think of something positive…the refrain danced elusively through her brain.
Juliet thought and thought and thought.
Well, she hadn’t puked this time.
Definitely a positive
Not vomiting was big.
Because that chunky bile was so much harder to clean up than pee.
And it would have been difficult to get all those bits of vomit out of the spaces between the wide, pine, floor planks.
There was that.
Layla Dumont took a sip from the cold bottle of hard apple cider, and eyed Juliet critically from across the table. They had just finished picking apples, and now they sat at a picnic table with a peck of Gala, Macintosh and Honeycrisp sitting resplendent in a wooden basket between them.
Juliet still marveled at how naturally a relationship between herself and Layla had formed. The budding friendship had been organic. It had swept in like the autumn wind when neither of them was looking.
“P.J. called Reggie last week and asked about you.” Layla told Juliet. “And then Reggie asked me.”
“Yeah, I know. P.J. said as much when I was in the market the other day. He asked about my NFL hat. Figured I was a Patriots fan because I lived in Boston. Do you know if Reggie told him anything else?”
“Reggie doesn’t know anything else.”
“So, that whole do-over conversation…?” Juliet asked somewhat hesitantly. The apple orchard suddenly droned with the hum of a thousand insects, while a bumblebee hovered over the basket of apples, its stinger ready to strike.
“What do-over conversation?” Layla swatted at the bee. Then added meaningfully. “I don’t remember any do-over conversation. And if I did it would be privileged information. Telling would be a violation of Girl…”
“…Code.” Juliet nodded with relief.
“Exactly.” Layla raised her hand for a high five. “I told Reggie if P.J. wanted to know anything more about the new girl in town, he should ask her himself.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it. Wonder why he was asking.” Juliet bit down on her lip. When her hand rose towards her hair, she stopped herself mid-gesture, and took another long gulp of the cold drink.
“Pretty fish, small pond.” Layla shrugged. Then added after a small hesitation. “You are, you know.”
“A fish?” Juliet teased
“Pretty.” Layla replied.
“Yeah, if you don’t count the skinny, flat-chested, male-patterned baldness thing I got going on.” Juliet protested but really, the compliment had warmed her.
“Well, yeah, if you discount all those things.” Layla grinned “Seriously, girl, you are looking good.”
“Thanks. I do feel good. It’s a mixture of fresh country air, rocky road ice cream, and peroxide.” Juliet said breezily, glad to have the focus off P.J.’s nosy nature and on to more benign things.
“Rafael does work wonders, doesn’t he?” Layla reached out and touched a lock of Juliet’s hair. Then she eyed her friend’s breasts with appreciation. “And do I detect that we have moved on from the training bra?”
“B cup.” Juliet giggled and proclaimed proudly.
“So, I hear you’ve become sort of a regular at the diner.” Layla bit into a shiny Macintosh.
“I do like their hot turkey sandwiches. And those pumpkin donuts?” Juliet sighed.
“To die for, I know.”
“But a regular? I don’t know if I would call myself that.”
“Well, Jerri Lee would be real upset if you didn’t show up for your usual half dozen on Saturday morning. She puts them aside for you every week, you know.”
Not too long ago this conversation would have stopped Juliet cold. The thought that someone had made themselves familiar with her food preferences and her comings and goings? That would have evoked heart stopping, gut wrenching fear. But now Juliet had begun to understand that there was no malicious intent or ulterior motive in the people of Port Harbor. Here, Juliet was not the hounded and disgraced wife of a monster. Here, she was just another cog in the wheel.
“So, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander!” Layla leaned back on the bench as she spoke between bites of the sweet, crisp fruit. “What do you want to know about P.J. McCabe?”
Juliet hesitated as she thought about the beautiful, haunting symbol that covered P.J.’s back in deep black ink, the scars on his knuckles, the way his piercing dark eyes seemed to cut through her like a blade.
She thought of the legacy of violence he had come from.
“Has he been here long?” Juliet asked as a sudden, strong wind picked up. It rustled the leaves and shook the low hanging apples off the trees. She drew her sweater tight around her.
“Yeah, it’s been a while now.” Layla chewed thoughtfully. “I bet I know what you’re thinking. Just doesn’t seem the small town type, does he? With all that…testosterone. He’s a gorgeous hunk of man, for sure. With all that muscle, those dark bedroom eyes and hard body…” Layla let out a lustful sigh, and her eyes seemed to glaze right over with totally impure thoughts. “Everything about P.J. McCabe just makes a woman want to sin.”
Juliet couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s expression. “And look at you…a happily married woman!”
Layla waved her hand in the air and laughed in that breezy way of hers. “Oh, I know. I love my Reggie to death. I’d never stray. Besides, I’m not entirely sure I could handle a man like P.J. McCabe. I’ve had my stab at the whole bad boy thing, and I wound up running home with my tail between my legs. Trust me when I tell you that my man is no pussy cat. Reggie’s got a wild side to him, for certain. But guys like P.J. McCabe? They take it to a whole other level. Ever notice how P.J. looks scary even when he smiles? He’s got this better to eat you thing going on.”
“I know what you mean.” Juliet thought of the many occasions that P.J.’s grin had made her feel as though he was the wolf, and she was the outwitted prey in a fairytale that ends badly.
“Yeah, he’s a lot of man, for sure.” Layla continued. “But underneath all of that rough and ready, P.J.’s a real sweetheart. He comes to the house on T
hirsty Thursdays and plays cards with Reggie and the boys. Always brings his own beer, too. Not like some of those other fools who drink themselves silly every week at our expense. If P.J. wins, he stays long enough to give the guys a chance to win some back. My sister and he had a brief thing, but it didn’t work out.”
“How brief?” Juliet asked too quickly. And when Layla raised a brow, Juliet added, “I mean, isn’t it weird when you all get together and stuff?”
“Not at all. It was a long time ago when P.J. roared into town on that motorcycle of his.” Layla started to divide the peck of apples into two smaller buckets as she reminisced. “Yeah, as you can imagine P.J. McCabe caused quite the stir. All brooding and bad boy, half of the girls in town were swooning over him. Kendra caught his eye, not that she didn’t put herself in his path at every opportunity. I’ll tell you, if I wasn’t so head over heels in love with that fool of mine, I might have gone after P.J. myself. But then again Kendra was always the pretty one.” Juliet couldn’t imagine anyone more beautiful than Layla Dumont. With her white blonde hair, blueberry eyes, and peaches and cream skin she was the definition of the word natural beauty. Not to even mention legs that went on for eternity and the kind of breasts that made men have a hard-time concentrating.
If Layla Dumont is P.J.’s measure of beauty, I’ll never stand a chance the thought flashed unbidden through Juliet’s mind and made her blush. If Layla noticed, she didn’t say anything.
Layla handed Juliet one of the baskets and they started walking towards the car. “Kendra was always spoiled rotten and used to getting what she wanted.” Layla continued on. “And of course, what she wanted that summer was the resident bad boy. After a couple of weeks of the best sex Kendra had ever had in her life…her words. It just sort of ended. Kendra wouldn’t talk about it, but I think he scared her.”
“You mean…?” Juliet asked in alarm.
“No, no nothing like that. I think P.J. was just too much for Kendra to handle. Of course, she would never have admitted it.” Layla rolled her eyes. “But that was about a zillion boyfriends ago. Now she’s married to Doug the dentist. They have a big house, two ridiculous looking dogs, and a Lexus. They live in Texas now.”
Becoming Juliet Page 8
