Chemical Pink

by Katie Arnoldi

  It was good that the engine was so loud, no chance for talking. Amy had been busy pouting and hadn’t asked where they were going. Now it was too late. Aurora set out for the Pacific Coast Highway. There was a restaurant she’d heard about thirty-five miles up the coast where surfers hung out. It served fresh fish and faced the water. Maybe even Amy could enjoy herself.

  Aurora drove slowly at first and there wasn’t much traffic. As Aurora felt Amy’s body relax, she sped up and wove her way through the few cars. It was great being in sync with her daughter, their weight shifting together, bodies pressed close with the speed. Amy’s grasp felt like a hug. They drove through Malibu and Aurora noticed people staring. People walking down the street stopped, cars sped up to get a second look. Aurora glanced at her tanned tight thigh and then at the road again. She felt happy.

  At a red light she yelled back, “You okay?”

  “Great. I love it.” Amy hugged her tightly.

  As they drove out of Malibu the coast opened up. There were fewer houses and the brown mountains looked open and wild. Space. The beaches seemed more natural, too. There were big rocks jutting up out of the surf and broken pebbly shorelines. She preferred these to the man-made beaches of Venice and Santa Monica that were like vast parking lots covered with sand and cigarette butts and filled with the constant danger of broken glass.

  They rounded a corner and she saw the big sign that said FRESH FISH. It didn’t look like a restaurant, more like a shack with a large front porch filled with picnic tables. There was a big dirt parking lot jammed with cars and on one side, in a neat row, stood about twenty motorcycles. Aurora pulled up and turned off the engine.

  “This is so cool, Mom.” Amy hugged Aurora’s waist again, then climbed off the bike and handed her mother the helmet. “We should live out here.” Amy took her mother’s hand and walked toward the entrance. They stopped to let a white Mercedes pull into the lot and park next to a yellow van.

  It was a fish market. You could pick out your fish and take it home or have them cook it for you there. There were soups and salads, too. Amy ordered clam chowder and a side of French fries. Aurora ordered a large piece of halibut grilled dry. She’d already decided not to begin Charles’ terrible diet until Monday. He’d never know. They got diet Cokes and found seats opposite each other at the end of a picnic table. Amy faced the ocean.

  “This is what I thought California would look like.” Amy took a sip of her drink. “Why don’t we live out here?”

  “It’s too far.” Aurora looked at her daughter and smiled.

  “From what? It didn’t take that long to get here. There’s probably gyms and schools out here. Why not?” Amy was getting serious and Aurora wanted a nice day.

  “Honey, you’re right.”

  The man who took their orders brought the food to the table instead of calling their number. He smiled at Aurora and touched her shoulder when he said, “Enjoy.”

  Amy opened her two packages of crackers and crumbled them into the soup, then took a loud slurpy spoonful. “This is the best soup ever.”

  A woman walked hurriedly past the table. She wore a white nylon maid’s uniform with nurse shoes and had very long red hair. The uniform looked out of place in amongst the shorts, swimsuits and jeans and the flowing red hair seemed at odds with the outfit. The woman went inside.

  Aurora’s fish was moist and delicious. She had to make an effort not to eat too fast. “When we finish, you want to go walk on the beach?” she said.

  “Definitely.” Amy stuffed five French fries in her mouth, chewed twice, and swallowed. “I’m done.”

  They held hands when they crossed the highway to the beach. There was a small cove with a big rock reef sticking up in the middle of the bay. They took off their boots, Amy rolled up her jeans, and they headed down toward the water.

  “Mama, seals.” Amy pointed to the rocks in the ocean and tugged her mother’s hand.

  Aurora squinted, the sun bright on the water. It just looked like rocks to her. “You sure?”

  “Yes. They’re moving.”

  Aurora saw a flipper move and as the sea lion adjusted its weight she could distinguish it from the rock. They walked closer and put their feet in the water. It was stinging cold. Aurora backed up.

  “Shoot,” Amy said. “I wish I brought a bathing suit. I’d swim out there with those guys. Do people swim with seals?”

  “I don’t, baby.” Aurora kissed her daughter’s head. They watched for a while, then walked down the beach. A fresh breeze cooled them. Amy stopped often to examine rocks, pocketing a few.

  “You want to go drive around? See what houses look like?” Aurora said when they were close to the end of the beach. Amy nodded. They turned around and started back. As they neared the seal rock, Aurora saw that standing by the highway, next to the outhouses, was the redhead in the nurse’s uniform. The woman stood looking out to sea, her hair brought forward, covering most of her face, but still Aurora could see the tortoiseshell glasses and the distinctive dry brown lips.

  Aurora stopped, looked down at the sand, and took a deep breath. Not in front of Amy, she thought.

  “What’s wrong, Mom?”

  Aurora pulled Amy into a hug. “Not a thing, my love.”

  They put on their boots and when they started toward the highway Charles rushed into the Porta Potti. Aurora and Amy crossed the street quickly, got on the bike, and drove north, away from the city.

  Later That Night

  Aurora waited until Amy was asleep. She used the phone in the kitchen. She had written her notes on a napkin. Her message was brief and to the point so that the machine wouldn’t cut her off. She stood by the sink and dialed.

  He picked up the phone before it rang. “Aurora, I was just about to call you.”

  “How did—”

  “I was too harsh. You have wonderful mass. We could be ready for the Nationals if you really want to.”

  She glanced at her notes. “Charles, you have no right to follow us.”

  “I was already at the gym. I wouldn’t do that.”

  “No. I mean—”

  “I’m excited about Monday.” His voice sounded hoarse now.

  Aurora waited.

  He said, “I can’t wait to see you change. Grow. You’ll be in all the magazines. Covers.”

  “Why did you follow us? It scared me.”

  “You’ll get big. Hard. Shredded glutes.”

  “Charles,” Aurora said harshly, “why did you dress up like Mrs. Johns? Why were you spying?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Charles said in his cold, educated voice. “Let’s not have any more bad feelings. Monday’s going to be special. Hendrik will be there. You’ll like him.”

  Aurora looked at her notes.

  Privacy

  Right to other friendships

  Amy

  No respect, no deal

  Charles said, “I have something very special for you. A gift to mark the beginning of your cycle. Our adventure. Sleep well.” He hung up the phone.

  Author Day for Amy

  Amy sat in her room thinking about what would happen if her mother died. They call her into the school office. Pretty Miss Lincoln in her nurse uniform, Mr. Freedman, and nice Mrs. Rose from the cafeteria are all waiting for her. Miss Lincoln and Mrs. Rose hold her hands while Mr. Freedman tells how Aurora has died in a crash. Her motorcycle squashed flat by a big semi in the tunnel that leads to the Pacific Coast Highway. She died instantly. Then Miss Lincoln asks if Amy would like to come live with her. Or they say she can fly home to her grandmother immediately, and since this is such a terrible tragedy, and she is going to suffer so much, Amy doesn’t need to go to school anymore. Or, even better, Grandma will be in the office waiting to tell her the sad news. Then she and Grandma will move to Malibu because actually Charles was riding on the back of the motorcycle. He was killed too, although he suffered a great deal when his arms and legs were broken into tiny bits, his body reduced to a
lumpy sack of goo. He died when he started coughing up blood and it poured out his nose and ears and finally suffocated him. Charles has left everything he owned to Aurora and Aurora has left it all to Amy and now she is rich.

  It was Monday morning and Amy had a fever. She’d been ready to stick the thermometer on the lightbulb but didn’t need to. Her throat was sore and her head really hurt. Aurora gave her Tylenol and tea, kissed her and left for Charles’ house. Said she couldn’t be late. Big day. Had to meet her new trainer.

  Fuck you, Mother, Amy thought. The word made her feel in control. Fuck, fuck, fucking shit. She got out of her bed and walked downstairs to the kitchen. It was very quiet and the white tile floor felt cool on her bare feet. Amy could see bits of dust floating in the shaft of sunlight from the window by the sink.

  There’s nothing to fucking eat in this whole fucking shit wad house. She opened the refrigerator and pushed aside the container of disgusting gray turkey balls that her mother ate all day long. Amy hated turkey balls; they stunk up the house every time her mother steamed them, which was every day, along with that garbage-stink cabbage. Steak and rice and fish. Fruit. Milk, orange juice, and boring old eggs. Amy wasn’t allowed to cook when she was home alone but who would know? She could do it except she didn’t feel like eggs. She opened the freezer and took out an all-juice Popscicle. The vodka bottle sat on the freezer shelf. She grabbed that too.

  Her mother drank vodka sometimes at night before bed. It helped her relax, she’d told Amy. She would take a little cup of it to her room along with her huge plastic glass of water.

  The clear bottle was frosty and there were melted fingerprints when Amy set it down on the counter. She unwrapped the Popscicle and sucked while scratching the bottle. The snowy frost collected under her fingernail, a pattern of circles and squares that she could make disappear with the warmth of her hand. She bit off the top of the Popscicle, leaned back in the chair, and forced herself to swallow. The pain in her throat brought tears to her eyes and the relief that comes with scratching a deep itch. Amy went to the cupboard for a glass.

  She took off the top, stuck her nose inside the bottle, and pulled in the sharp chemical smell. Nasty. She poured a little into the glass, swirled it with her finger, and licked off the drops. Not too bad. Amy took a sip. At first there was no flavor, just the very cold liquid, but then she swallowed and her mouth and throat were filled with a horrible taste that made her grimace and cough. She jammed the Popsicle into her mouth, swabbed it around her cheeks and throat, and put the vodka back in the freezer. Amy grabbed a diet Dr Pepper out of the refrigerator and went back up to her room, leaving the empty glass sitting on the breakfast table.

  Aurora’s on Her Way

  Charles thought the three carat diamond pendant insufficient. Alone, it was a sweet gesture, not a bridge builder. However, the pendant with matching earrings would show deep kindness and love. And if he added a lovely diamond tennis bracelet Aurora should easily slide back into place. He put the jewelry in his trouser pocket and went to answer the door.

  She had her blond hair back in a simple ponytail. No makeup, complexion smooth and tanned, cheekbones prominent beneath her thin skin. The gray tights beautifully outlined her legs and pubis. Tank top. He hugged her and breathed in, delighting in her freshness.

  “It’s so exciting,” he said as he led her into the house. “Hendrik’s not here yet. Come in and let’s get you changed.”

  “What?”

  “A posing suit. He needs to see you.” Charles released her hand and raced up the stairs, skipping steps in his rush. “I think the white suit. You’re still tan enough and white is so pure.”

  The lights were on in the posing room and the heater had brought the temperature to a dry 82 degrees. Charles wanted to show Aurora off to her best advantage and if she were cold Hendrik wouldn’t be able to see her vascularity. He opened the drawer with the suits, took out the white nylon bikini, handed it to Aurora, and watched while she removed her clothes. “I’m so proud of you,” he said when she pulled off her tank top and her nipples stood hard like the little knot on the end of a child’s balloon. It made him want to gnaw her, remembering his birthdays, the rubbery taste and the sound of his teeth scraping the wet balloon, chewing and biting and sucking until the balloon popped. “I’ll pin your hair up. Sit here.”

  Aurora sat in the swiveling chair and Charles pumped the foot pedal to raise the seat. He brushed then carefully wound her silky blond hair into a bun, securing it with bobby pins from the drawer. “Now, close your eyes.” He removed the necklace from his pocket and fastened it around her neck. “Don’t open.” He carefully worked the diamond studs into the tight little holes in her earlobes and fixed the bracelet to her wrist. She was stunning. “Look.”

  She opened her eyes and didn’t move for a moment, then grabbed the pendant, jumped out of the chair, and leaned in close to the mirror.

  “Three carats.” Charles nuzzled her neck. “The earrings are two and a half. Very valuable. Precious.”

  “Oh my God,” Aurora said, still examining herself in the mirror.

  “I wanted you to have something to commemorate this day.” Charles took her hand and gently guided her up onto the posing platform. “Do a side chest. I want to see how it looks with the jewelry.”

  Aurora rose up onto her left hip, clasped her hands, and pulled them into her pose. She and Charles studied her physique in the mirror.

  “It’s all there,” Charles said. “Spectacular.” The doorbell rang. “He’s here. Do some push-ups. Get a little pump.” Charles rushed downstairs to welcome Hendrik.

  When Charles opened the door Hendrik dropped his leather briefcase and grabbed him under the arms, lifting him off the ground in a giant bear hug.

  “Happy to see you,” Hendrik said in his thick German accent.

  “Yes. Good to see you too.” Charles had trouble breathing. “Put me down.”

  Hendrik, with his Slavic features and dyed brown hair, his height and build, was a classic Bavarian woodsman type, strong and capable. A redwood of a man. It didn’t matter that the body was a product of years of extreme drug abuse; the effect was impressive. He looked like a forty-year-old, although Charles knew he must be in his sixties. His white athletic socks were pulled up to his kneecaps and the tight fitting blue cotton athletic shorts rode up high, above his navel. His snug blue-and-white-striped boat neck T-shirt highlighted his wide chest and massive arms. A large gold crucifix hung around his neck on a thick gold chain. Christ’s eyes were made of small rubies; the nails were pinpoint diamonds. He gave Charles one last squeeze and set him down.

  “She’s upstairs.” Charles tucked his crisp white shirt into his trousers and led the way.

  Aurora sat hunched on the edge of the posing platform, tight stomach slightly creased just above the navel, legs crossed at the knees in a poetic posture. She was studying her bracelet.

  “Aurora, I’d like you to meet Hendrik.”

  Aurora hopped off the stage and extended her hand.

  “Beautiful.” Hendrik scooped Aurora up into another bear hug. Charles could see her implants were being squashed against his big chest. Hendrik set her down. “About one fifty-five, ja?”

  Charles said, “One fifty-four.”

  Hendrik nodded. “Turn around. Let me see you.”

  “Get up on the platform,” Charles said, happy.

  Aurora smiled and walked up the two steps. She stood in the middle, where the light was the strongest.

  “Front double bicep,” Charles said.

  Aurora shook out her left then right quadriceps, swiveled her hips in a sexy loosening of her joints, brought her hands over head, and pulled them down into a beautiful pose. Charles felt proud.

  “Nice short attachments,” Hendrik said. “Tiny joints.” He studied her. “Turn. Side chest.”

  Aurora pivoted, rose on her left hip, and pulled her hands in slowly, dramatically into her body.

  “The boobies are too big.” Hendr
ik shook his head. “Why these girls buy the big ones? Covers everything.”

  Charles looked closely. Her implants had never seemed a problem. But now he could see how they did obscure part of the pectoral muscle. “We could have them reduced?” Charles said.

  “No.” Hendrik walked to the other side of the platform. Aurora was beginning to shake a little from holding the pose so long. “Most judges are idiots. Love the boobies.” They watched Aurora. “We must work on posing. Look at her shuddering. No stamina.”

  Aurora shook harder. There were beads of sweat on her forehead.

  “Relax, baby,” Hendrik said. “Shake out.”

  Charles could hear admiration through Hendrik’s criticism but he was afraid that Aurora couldn’t. “She’s got a full package, don’t you think?”

  “Ja. She can be great.” He paused. “With work.”

  Aurora stood in a frontal relaxed pose. Charles could see that she tried to control her breathing. “Aurora, when you’re ready, show Hendrik your back.”

  Aurora turned so that her back faced the big mirror. She placed her right leg straight behind her, bent her left, and started to pull her arms into a back double bicep.

  “Can’t see the glutes,” Hendrik said.

  Aurora bunched the bikini bottom in the crack of her buttocks and assumed the position.

  “I think it’s her best shot,” Charles said, admiring the Christmas tree shape in her lower back and the hard squareness of her rear end.

  “Ja. Good vee. Glutes. Traps.” Hendrik walked around the platform. “The calves are small, but we can use Pump n Pose.”

  Pump n Pose was a new compound. Its inventor refused to list the pharmaceutical components but claimed it was legal and that when administered into small muscle groups it could cause permanent swelling of that muscle. Pump n Pose was advertised in underground bodybuilding magazines. Charles had heard it worked.