Painted Blind

by Michelle Hansen

  The footsteps coming upstairs were hard and fast. A moment later my bedroom door was thrown open with so much force it ricocheted off the stopper and came back to slap my dad’s ready hand. His eyes narrowed on me in wrath so fierce, my knees actually wobbled.

  “I rear-ended a Volvo on Main Street,” he growled. He didn’t have to say where. I knew it was somewhere around Church Street, in full view of the Venus billboard. I didn’t know which was worse—his fury or the humiliation of knowing he saw it. “You promised me.” Disappointment made his voice crack.

  Tears pushed at my eyes. “I can explain…”

  He cut me off with a wave of his hand. “Find a ride to school tomorrow. I’m taking your car.” Then he turned into the hallway, and I rushed after him.

  “I can’t go back to school. Everyone will be talking about me.”

  “That is your own fault! You will go to school. No excuses.” It was pointless to argue.

  I went back to my room and threw myself on the bed. Tomorrow was going to be the worst day of my life.

  It was probably suicidal to disobey him, but I made no attempt to find a ride to school. A slow and painful death sounded better than school.

  Mid-morning he returned and caught me sitting on the couch. “I thought I told you to find a ride to school,” he said.

  I tossed the remote onto the ottoman. “I didn’t.”

  “Get your shoes on.” Dad flicked off the television. “I’m taking you.”

  Reluctantly, I gathered my books and gave my teeth a quick brushing before following him out the door. He dropped me in front of the school and left me to face my fate alone. I waited until the Subaru was indiscernible down the street before I turned and pushed myself through the door to the office.

  The secretary wrote out my admit slip with raised eyebrows. She wanted to say something, but she didn’t have to. All her condemnation was right there in her pursed lips.

  I grabbed my slip and went to the senior hall. I was fifteen minutes late for third period, and I was in no hurry to face Savannah. As I stood fiddling with the combination of my locker, a boy named Rory Keene came around the corner wearing a bright green lanyard dangling a rubber chicken, the hall pass from our third period class.

  Years ago Rory lived across the street from me. The first snowfall each year, we built a fort against the picket fence of his front yard and waged war on the neighborhood. Just about the time I got strong enough to heave a snowball from my front yard into his, Rory’s parents divorced, and he moved across town. Rory now held a place in the social outcasts category, which he earned with greasy hair and the worse case of acne I had ever seen. He still talked to me occasionally, but today I wasn’t in the mood. I turned my back to him.

  Savannah must have put an air freshener in her locker because the air held a hint of cinnamon and orange. Something else, too. Salty, like the sea. Just as I lifted the handle, a voice behind me whispered, “Perfect!”

  I spun around, ready to give Rory a verbal beating. “What did you say?”

  He was still ten feet down the hall. Startled, Rory paused. “I didn’t...”

  Someone sneezed. Rory and I said, “Bless you” at the same time, then looked around. There was no one there but the two of us, and neither of us sneezed.

  Rory muttered, “Weird,” and continued down the hall.

  As I grabbed my books and walked away, I heard a string of whispered curses that started with “stupid” and ended in a language I’d never heard in my life.

  It took three steadying breaths before I could open the classroom door. I took Advanced Chemistry not because I was good at science, but because Mr. Billiard wore Coke-bottle glasses and called me “Ron’s girl.” All of us were just a blur to his ancient eyes—the children of students he loved in better years. However, to my utter disappointment, Mr. Billiard was spending the semester drinking coffee in the staff lounge while a student teacher named Michael Darling taught Advanced Chemistry.

  When I opened the door, Mr. Darling turned from the class and said, “Look, everybody! Venus has arrived.”

  A guy in the back whooped, “Yeah, baby, take it off!”

  My armpits grew damp. My eyelid twitched. I told myself not to overreact and hurried to my seat. I clenched my teeth as Savannah turned to me.

  “South Dakota?” she said. “Then how do you explain this?” She opened the September issue of Cosmopolitan to a two-page spread of the Venus ad and held it out to me.

  I swiped the magazine and closed it as fast as I could. Getting harassed by a teacher was bad enough. I didn’t need it from my best friend, too.

  Back from his errand to the office, Rory filled the seat in front of me, but he didn’t mention the strange sneeze in the hall.

  “I don’t know how you could have done it,” Savannah whispered. “You won’t even wear a skirt to school.”

  I picked stray shavings off my pencil and stared at the desktop. I should have told Savannah about modeling, but she wouldn’t have understood why I needed her to keep it a secret.

  “There are no modeling agencies around here. How did you …” She broke off and answered her own question. “Jill.”

  It bugged Jill to no end that she had a head-case for a daughter. Modeling was her grand scheme to cure me. She came from L.A. the last week in May and flew with me to New York. We stayed a week while her friend put together my portfolio. Then we left for Milan. Jill helped me decorate my apartment and went with me to my first two modeling sessions. All I needed was confidence, she said. I would learn to feel more at home in my own skin. A week later she slipped out while I slept. She was halfway to New York when I found her note. It said she was so proud of me. I tore it to shreds.

  I wanted to go home, but I’d signed a contract. If I quit, I had to repay all the expenses the agency incurred to get me there. Too proud to tell my dad what a fool I’d been, and unwilling to let him foot the bill for my stupidity, I stayed and I worked. Blair kept me booked double sessions nearly every day. I finished my contract and refused to stay longer, even though she offered to find me a private tutor or pay for a school abroad. I missed my dad, and I wanted to be a normal high school student. Even if I wasn’t normal.

  “I’m still mad at you.” Savannah reached across the aisle and swiped the magazine from my desk then dropped it into an oversized purse she used as a backpack. “On the upside, you’ll be famous.”

  I grunted without meaning to. It was impossible for her to fathom how famous could be a bad thing.

  “What did your dad say?”

  “He rear-ended a Volvo and took away my car. Can I have a ride home after school?”

  “Of course,” she replied before Mr. Darling called on her to read aloud from the overhead projector.

  I should have noticed the devious look on her face, but Mr. Darling caught my eye. He focused on me so intently, I wanted to ooze into the desktop. I slouched behind Rory the rest of the period.

  When the bell rang, I grabbed my books and darted out the door. The crowded hallway offered no refuge. A junior in a football jersey bumped against me and ran his hands down my sides before I could shy away. My pulse was racing and my peripheral vision took on dark clouds. I needed some air. Now.

  I reached my locker. Somehow my fingers turned the combination. I dropped my books inside, then turned toward the nearest exit, tucked my head and charged through the crowd. I shoved people aside as I went.

  Outside I gulped a saving breath, but it was too late. Halfway across the parking lot, pain exploded in my chest. Students streamed out of the building for lunch. I looked around for a place to hide.

  I ran to the neighboring strip mall. When I reached the sidewalk I slowed, then swerved into a sporting goods store. It was the middle of the day, but no one was at the front register. Behind the gun safes and hunting gear were the fitting rooms. I locked myself in one of the stalls and stood there clutching my stomach. Pain spread down my arm.

  The first time this happened I was
thirteen and sitting next to Savannah at a basketball game. A few months later it happened at school. Mrs. Radcliff, the school counselor, called it a panic attack and assured me I wasn’t dying. I was sure she was wrong. The pain was so intense. It wasn’t in my head. I couldn’t breathe; I couldn’t feel my fingers.

  I wished and prayed for my dad to come and find me now, but he was too angry to care if I died in a mustard-yellow stall in the sporting goods store. I couldn’t risk the long walk home. Someone would recognize me as the slut from the billboard. I stood there shivering at my pathetic reflection in the mirror.

  I heard the scuff of shoes across the tiled floor. The door to the next stall creaked ever so slightly. I pressed my back into the corner and tried to quiet my pounding heart. I waited. The air grew perfectly still.

  I peeked down. No feet showed under the divider. My breath came in bursts. I inhaled slowly and tried to clear my mind. My pulse kept pounding, but the pain dulled.

  Satisfied that I was in control, I stepped up on the bench and looked over the divider. The stall was empty, but a slight aroma of cinnamon made me pause and look again. Something brushed my face. It was warm, like a caress.

  I yelped and stumbled. My foot slipped from the bench and sent me tumbling backward. My back smacked the opposite wall. I flailed and grabbed for a handhold, but there was nothing to break my fall. I landed on my butt on the tile, and my head bounced off the partition.

  I was alone. And going completely insane.

  Chapter 3

  I didn’t attend any of my afternoon classes. When the bell rang to end the school day, I was sitting in Savannah’s car, trying to shake the feeling I was being watched.

  Half the parking lot was empty before Travis and Savannah left the school. As soon as they were out the door, he caught her by the arm and pulled her to his chest. Travis kissed her opened mouthed right there on the sidewalk.

  I looked away. I should have been happy for her. A better friend would have been. I was just so empty that joy for someone else’s happiness was hard to come by. Savannah had boyfriend after boyfriend since seventh grade, but not one guy had ever leaned against my locker and tried to make me laugh. No matter how much I denied it, that simple truth carved a deeper hole as I watched Savannah fall in love again.

  A radiant smile plastered on her face, Savannah dropped into the driver’s seat. “Travis said he’ll meet us at the carnival.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” I could not show my face at MSU. College guys, alcohol, dark corners and crowds. It was a nightmare from start to finish.

  “Relax. It’s at night. You’ll have fun.” She tried to sound convincing. “You have to come with me,” she said, “unless you want to walk home.” To make sure I couldn’t, she put the car into gear and sped out of the parking lot.

  By seven o’clock the temperature had dropped into the fifties. A cool breeze blew from the west, but it still felt more like a summer evening than fall. For that I was grateful. I borrowed a pair of fleece-lined leather gloves from Savannah and pulled up the hood of my sweatshirt.

  Sixth Avenue in front of the Greek houses was closed and lined with booths. The carnival was supposed to be Mardi Gras themed, but that amounted to little more than masks and beads on guys wearing Wranglers and cowboy boots. The music blaring from the lawn of one house was country-western, not jazz or blues, and the Tippet Brothers’ barbecue wagon was parked on one corner. Tri-tip steak and long racks of ribs sizzled over the flames. Bud Tippet had beer on tap and mostly forgot to check IDs.

  We saw Travis and his brother Hunter near the art club’s face-painting booth. Hunter slugged Travis when he saw Savannah. “You’re still hanging out with this creep?” Hunter asked.

  Travis put his arm around Savannah. “Have you met Savannah’s best friend, Psyche?”

  Hunter held out his hand. “I don’t think we’ve….” He looked into my face and his mouth dropped open. I looked away, but Hunter moved to the side, following my line of vision. His eyes narrowed. “Wait. Are you the girl in …?”

  “The billboard?” Savannah offered.

  Hunter’s eyes made a pass down my body, and I felt my face getting hot. Recovering, he offered Travis a wad of tickets. “The first bunch is on me. I’ve gotta get back to the house.” He looked at me again. “Come by if you get bored.”

  As Hunter turned to go, Savannah threw me an encouraging smile. I don’t know what she expected me to do—call him back or tag along after him? I just stood there as he walked away.

  Travis broke the silence left in Hunter’s wake. “Food or games?”

  “Games,” Savannah replied. “Think you can win one of those giant teddy bears for me at the ring toss?”

  “With four tickets or less,” Travis replied confidently.

  I didn’t believe him and folded my arms cynically as he exchanged a ticket for three plastic rings. The first ring bounced off and landed on the ground. The second fell between the bottles, but the third settled onto its target in the center. As the attendant pulled a huge panda bear from the line for Savannah, I congratulated Travis, “I’ve never actually seen someone win.”

  After a quick glance in my eyes, he said to the ground, “Did you want one, too?”

  “No, you’d better save your luck for Savannah’s next whim.”

  As if on cue she pointed to an enclosed canvas booth. “Let’s go there.”

  Over the door hung a sign that said: PALM readings. TAROT cards. KNOW your destiny. As we drew closer, a smaller sign warned us not to disturb the session in progress. Palm readings were two tickets. Tarot card readings were three tickets, and for an extra ticket, we could know our luckiest days of the month. It was all hogwash, but Savannah loved this stuff. Travis tore off tickets for each of us while we waited for the curtain to open.

  The pungent odor of incense struck me as the three of us stepped inside, and I swallowed a cough. The fortune teller was seated at a folding table, over which hung a tattered tablecloth. Her violet dress and dangling pearl earrings looked like something straight out of a costume catalog. “One at a time.” She looked up from the deck of cards on the table. She was old enough to be my grandmother, but there was a peculiar beauty about her.

  “You go first,” I offered. “Travis and I will wait outside.”

  Savannah kept hold of his hand. “I don’t mind if Travis hears my destiny.”

  I sighed and waited outside alone. It took all of a minute, and Savannah came out smiling. I supposed fortune-tellers were prone to offering good news, since they’d probably go broke telling people their lives were going to suck.

  “Your turn,” Savannah prodded.

  I moaned and stepped through the canvas curtain again. My mind was already rolling over the cheesy fortune lines she’d feed me. “You have strong life lines. You will fall madly in love sometime this year. Beware the twelfth of the month.” Anyone could think up this garbage. I sat in the cane-backed chair opposite the woman.

  “What can I do for you?” She looked up and smiled mischievously. “Venus.”

  “Psyche,” I corrected. “Palm reading, I guess.” I put my hand out palm up, but she didn’t move to take it.

  Instead, she rested her chin on her folded hands and studied my eyes. The canvas curtain whipped to the side. “Please wait outside,” she said automatically.

  I looked at the empty doorway. “Must have been the wind.”

  The gypsy looked toward the door and mumbled something I couldn’t understand. Her eyes were wide when she turned back to me. “It is you, isn’t it? One might consider it a mockery of the original.” Her eyes had a depth that struck something inside me. It was like she could see the frayed edges of my lonely soul.

  I pulled my hand away. “On second thought, I don’t want a palm reading.”

  She grabbed me by the wrist, so I couldn’t run. Her eyes darted to the back of the tent and came back to me with a warm smile. “What is it you want most?”

  “I want to be normal.” I
tried to pull away, but she held on tighter.

  “I will tell you this: Love like you cannot imagine awaits you if you have the courage to find it.”

  “No offense, but I’m not much of a believer.” Not in love and not in cheap gypsy fortunes.

  “Maybe there’s someone who can make a believer of you.”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  She shrugged and released my arm. “It’s your destiny and your heart. What more shall I say?” She smiled at the back of the tent, then put her business card into my hand.

  “What do you keep looking at?” I asked. When she gave me a puzzled look, I stuffed the card into my jeans pocket feeling stupid. “Never mind.”

  “Do you smell citrus?” she asked. “And the sea?”

  “How’d you know about that?”

  “I smell it, too, sometimes.” She began sorting tarot cards on the table in front of her. “It’s okay to believe in things you can’t see. Isn’t that what people say? The best things in life are unseen.”

  I paused in front of the door. “I thought the best things in life were free.”

  “That too, I suppose. Next!”

  Utterly confused, I stepped outside and realized Travis and Savannah had ditched me. After scanning the crowd and not finding a sign of them, I wandered down the street. Fortunes and incense had given me a headache.

  I stopped at a booth where a cartoonist sketched a couple kissing. The girl had her hair tucked around her ear so her profile showed. She sat on her boyfriend’s knee, and his arm was casually wrapped around her waist. I pretended to watch the cartoonist’s picture take shape and stole glances at the couple.

  During the summer I shot two sessions with a male model named Holden Valentine. He was twenty and had recently ended a tumultuous and well-publicized relationship with a pop starlet. Our work together would become a Guess ad sometime next spring, romantic black and whites of a beautiful couple. For the shoot, Holden wrapped his arms around my waist and put his face to my cheek. The photos looked like we’d been in love our whole lives, but for me it had been more awkward than ice skating in soccer cleats. I was so inept at falling in love, I didn’t even know how to let a guy touch me.