by Ronn Fryer
Meanwhile, in spite of her outrage, Tina, did her best to control herself in public. Although not always a blessing, she possessed a strong rational side. There’d be plenty of time for wrath. Right now, her friend needed support. Simply ignoring prying eyes, Tina took the carton from Livvy’s hand and walked to the cooler. After setting it back inside, she motioned Olivia to follow.
On the shelf stocked with diapers and wet-wipes, Tina reached for a can of Enfamil. Then, she leaned close and whispered, “Here, babies are babies, they all need decent nutrition.”
At the counter Olivia pulled her wallet from her purse, took out all the bills and rummaged in the bottom for loose change. Motherhood was obviously going to put a strain on her budget. But that hardly mattered where tiny bellies were concerned.
Livvy discovered that baby formula was not cheap. Even depleting all her remaining finances, she was still thirty-five cents short. Tina waved her hand, symbolically erasing the deficit. It wouldn’t be the first time her register failed to balance. Ruthie’s cashier was not dishonest. To the contrary, discrepancies occurred about as rarely as overtime pay – rationalization just needed to soften its heart on certain occasions.
Closing the drawer, Tina looked up, reexamined the damage to her friend’s face and managed an encouraging smile, “I get off early today. I’ll swing by with my makeup kit.”
Even if Olivia didn’t seem to have a clue regarding the art of feminine ingenuity, she’d be in good hands – Tina had discovered the magic of cosmetics even before she’d hit her teens.
Chapter 10 – Self Imposed Miranda
An employee of the State Forest Service could not be expected to conduct official business in her own private vehicle. That was good since Olivia didn’t own a car. Even though she had been required to show proof of a valid Michigan Driver’s license, she hadn’t thought much about the type of vehicle they’d provide, just hoped it would at least have air-conditioning.
The faded green 1953 Chevy pickup that came with the cabin did, in fact, have such an option – the two-sixty variety. Simply roll both windows down and drive sixty miles an hour. Since it was May, extreme heat was hardly a concern. That was fortunate since the truck’s passenger window was cracked, likely as not to jump the track whenever disturbed. And, on a flat road, speeds much above fifty were unrealistic. Although unadvisable, one could push the truck to sixty coming down the hill on Bissonette Road, assuming the driver idolized Evil Knievel and any and all dental work could withstand intense vibration.
Coming upon the dirt road to her cabin, Olivia downshifted and pumped the brakes to coax the truck down from its optimal speed of forty-five. As soon as she cleared the jack pine thicket, she saw the police car.
It wasn’t a good sign.
Although she really had no idea what the cops might want, the previous events did not bode well. Leaning against the fender of his cruiser, Officer Charlie Burt addressed her the moment she opened the truck’s door.
“Afternoon Missy,” he said, hoisting his gun belt up beneath his ample gut.
Olivia offered a guarded smiled and asked, “What’s up?”
“Got me a re-port,” he stated.
She felt an immediate chill. It wouldn’t be hard to guess what this was about, although it obviously wasn’t concern over her battered face. Evidently that only happened after an official report was filed.
“Want to know what it says?” he asked, obviously baiting her. His smirk clearly telegraphing his enjoyment.
Olivia didn’t opt to participate in his little cat and mouse. Instead, she carefully picked up the sack with the baby formula from the worn leather seat, protectively folding the top of the bag over its contents. Swinging the truck door shut, (the worn latch requiring all the effort one could muster), she eyed the short distance to her cabin.
Trying to appear casual as possible, she buttoned the pockets of her shirt with her free hand. Thankfully, the kits were securely tucked away, out of sight. Hardly endowed to begin with, the two tiny bumps simply enhanced her minimal attributes. Even though she’d checked the size on the uniform requisition form for small, the shirts she received were mediums, hardly formfitting on her slight frame. Less than initially pleased, Olivia now saw the hidden blessing – even Tina had failed to detect the stowaways in the baggy folds of her forest-issue mainstay.
Olivia again glanced toward the cabin and salvation, a mere twenty steps away. Hopefully, she’d have to endure no more than a minute or two of this Barney Fife bullshit. The cop obviously didn’t care the least about her; that was fine. She didn’t need his pity, and her newly extended family was strictly her business.
All the same, she had to remain calm. If he even suspected her harboring wildlife, especially dangerous predators, he’d most likely try to confiscate them. Not that she’d surrender them under any circumstances. Still, she was eager to avoid any overt conflict. Authority rarely felt any obligation to acquiesce to reason. She’d heard about myopic policies that mandated removal of all wild animals from the general populace, only to have the helpless creatures suffer an agonizing demise from complete neglect in the custody of the various misanthropic agencies.
In spite of growing impatience, Olivia lectured herself – Be polite, say as little as possible, and see what this is all about.
Undaunted by her noncompliance, Charlie simply answered his own question, “Says you A-salted two young ath-a-letes with a shovel and a knife.”
Olivia’s face flushed, emotions soaring. The sheer absurdity of the accusation left her speechless. Her expression, however, quite clearly seemed to question his sanity. Fortunately, she did not voice her thoughts. “Are you fucking nuts?” would hardly have garnered endearment.
This was Olivia’s first, and likely only, stint stationed in Northern Michigan. Even as a fellow officer of sorts, she’d not talked with the local police until now. Still, it wasn’t all that difficult to glean the limitations of their tolerance. She wasn’t born and raised here, hence she was an outsider – worse, a female in uniform. It wasn’t that Charlie couldn’t adjust to the times, he was as progressive as the next guy, but the audacity of it all tended to baffle anyone blessed with the most basic family values.
Rather than debate the ridiculous, Olivia faced him directly, clearly displaying Bobby’s handiwork and asked, “Does it look like I did any assaulting?”
Officer Burt pulled off his aviators and looked at her slightly askew, trying to ascertain if maybe she was one of them fem-nists. “Can’t rightly say Missy, till I get all the facts.”
He didn’t care much for her tone. He was, nevertheless, highly proficient in the art of interrogation. Give suspects a little nudge and, oft as not, their conscience eventually got the better of them. Lack of confidence was not one of his faults, he’d get to the bottom of this soon enough.
After their initial conversation subsided, the lawman again hiked up his belt and replaced his sunglasses. The clouds were dispersing, it had to be getting close to dinner time. Thorough investigative procedure wasn’t something to be rushed.
The radio crackled from the interior of the black and white and Officer Burt made his way over in response. Before he left, however, he graciously informed Olivia that she wasn’t going to be charged as yet. His investigation would be ongoing.
Relieved, in spite of the blatant injustice; for now, she was content to simply have him, ongoing.
Chapter 11 – Mirror, Mirror
Despite conflicting emotions of outrage and compassion, Tina nonetheless delighted in doing Oliva’s face. Even if her only weapons were beauty products, she was about to wage some serious revenge against the horrible injustice her friend had suffered. She considered herself nothing less than a makeover artist.
Olivia, on the other hand, seemed to be totally clueless. It was obvious that she was a bit of a tomboy, especially considering her job. Tina couldn’t even fathom climbing up that treacherous fire tower; but with even the most basic feminine skills, Teans had to
literally treat her like a little sister. Although she doubted most twelve year-olds were even that naïve. How does one even survive without a single tube of lip gloss? Still, there may have been a silver lining in all this. It was never too late to save someone and she relished the idea of a protégé.
As Livvy’s personal beautician began setting up the contents of her kit on the kitchen table, Olivia sat statue-like. More than a little aware of the gaps in her own feminine upbringing, she was still shocked at the amount of tubes, potions, pallets, brushes and containers that now resided in front of her. She’d always known other girls were prettier than her, but never imagined their secret; and, without her friend’s assistance, she wouldn’t have had the slightest notion where to begin to make herself more alluring. Nevertheless, she found herself more than a little intrigued with the process and strived to be the perfect subject.
Tina, meanwhile, finished arranging her arsenal, then repositioned her client. She was about to work miracles in spite of the cabin’s pathetic lighting. The loose dowels on the chair’s back support didn’t help much either. No biggie, this was strictly a lean-in operation – up close, and intensely personal.
“Okay,” she said, twisting Olivia’s head as if it belonged to a mannequin, “Let’s start with some concealer.”
Olivia half-smiled, not sure if she should even pretend to know what that might be. It hardly mattered. Tina was far too focused on the challenge in front of her, studying her canvas with all the intensity of a modern day master – the Rembrandt of cosmetology.
Olivia’s hair barely reached her shoulders, but Tina pulled it back with clips anyway. She adored the color; deep mahogany with plenty of natural highlights, but couldn’t help think it should be a little longer. Just because her friend had a man’s job, it didn’t mean she had to look butch. Not that she necessarily did. Some extra length, maybe some added volume, would just help frame her face better. Girls really should know how to compliment their assets. Tina’s own hair, easily two or three shades lighter than Olivia’s, fell about six inches past her collarbone, the perfect length, really – long enough to style, without requiring excessive upkeep; and, routine color assists were hardly excessive.
Through all the tugging and maneuvering, Olivia still managed to hold still, staring straight ahead, only flinching once.
“Oh shit, sorry hon,” Tina apologized quickly, realizing she’d been a little zealous in her attempt to neutralize the darkest area around her friend’s eye socket with her favorite smoky eye shadow.
As Tina prattled on, working her wonders, Olivia said little. Trying to analyze her own feelings, Tina’s client had to admit that mixed emotions was probably an understatement. She couldn’t help basking in the attention. And, despite the initial awkwardness, she was starting to shimmer with a delightful sense of femininity; one that had been neglected way too long.
Still, Olivia wasn’t crazy about the lipstick and the smell of the mascara was annoying. She couldn’t stop blinking. The clumps felt like tiny caterpillars. The eyeliner, though, she rather liked. It was interesting, but the foundation that was spread over her face felt like a gooey mask.
Even though Olivia had been doing her absolute best to hold still, Tina had to pause when her subject pursed her lips for the third time. She put down her makeup brush and reached for a Kleenex.
Aware of her friend’s reaction to the waxy feel of the lipstick, Tina said, “Okay, let’s try some lip gloss.”
Olivia puckered her lips in an attempt at being helpful.
“No sweetie, just relax,” Tina directed, adding an empathetic smile.
Olivia’s approval of the lip gloss was instant, it didn’t feel much different than a chap stick. Although she couldn’t see it as yet, the shade had been a soft pink, like bubblegum. Not too harsh. A subtle complement for her complexion.
The entire makeover barely took more than half an hour, although it’d seemed twice as long to Olivia. Even so, by the time they’d finished, it would have been difficult to determine who had enjoyed the experience more.
When she was finally satisfied with her efforts, Tina ordered, “Close your eyes.”
Olivia obediently complied as her personal magician pulled a hand-mirror from her bag. Livvy, although outwardly enthusiastic, really had no idea what to expect from the big reveal.
“Okay!” Tina asked. “What do you think?”
When Olivia took in her reflection, she actually gasped. She, quite literally, could not believe her eyes. Staring intently at the barely recognizable girl in the glass, she stammered, “Oh my God, I’m...pretty.”
“No,” Tina beamed, “You’re beautiful!”
Unable to pull her eyes from the mirror, Olivia had to agree. She may never be in Tina’s league, and although the B-word was completely foreign to her, the image staring back at her was most certainly stunning.
After enveloping her beautician in a prolonged hug, Olivia slipped the beauty products she’d been given into her hippy purse and thanked her friend profusely.
Tina hesitated a moment, taking a final appraisal of her work, then added, “You better start locking your door, girl. They’re gonna be lined up three deep outside.”
As Livvy walked her friend to the door, Teans filled her grateful client with a series of last minute instructions on care and maintenance of her face. Olivia didn’t understood half of it, but she thanked her beautician again, promising to do exactly as she was told.
After Tina left, Olivia looked out the window. Thankfully, they were not lined up three deep. Not only was she incapable of handling such attention, she needed some private time with this new Olivia. Picking up the mirror Teans had left, Livvy was nearly mesmerized for the better part of five minutes. All the while, her head filled with questions, most of which seemed totally beyond her grasp.
Was she beautiful? Was that somehow possible? What makes a girl pretty? Was she all that unattractive without makeup? What was feminine beauty anyway – just an illusion, a ruse? Couldn’t a girl be attractive without foundation, concealer, mascara, eyeliner, eye shadow, false eyelashes, and hair extensions? Was this really what being a girl was all about? That hit her as somewhere between ridiculous and downright insulting.
Peering out the window again, Olivia couldn’t help but wonder if you were somehow less of a girl, less feminine, without all those things? Surely Tina was just as gorgeous before bed, or right after she stepped out of the shower – before her cosmetic regiment. Not that Olivia had actually ever seen her without makeup. Still, her friend’s pearly smooth skin and perfect bone structure was to die for – all completely natural! Tina no doubt had the doctor swooning the moment she popped out of the womb. But what about her?
Overwhelmed with self-interrogation, Olivia looked down. Great, one more issue. Although she’d never cared to be overly endowed, it would have been nice to at least fill up more than an A cup. Okay, enough, she scolded herself. This was draining whatever energy she had left. She needed to hit the bathroom and her babies hadn’t even been fed yet.
Before she even made it to the toilet, however, she caught her image in the medicine cabinet. Even through the distortion of the cheap silver (not to mention her own preconceptions), she was willing to admit Tina might be right – maybe just this once, she was actually beautiful.
Chapter 12 - A Fitting Tribute
Rather than allow herself any more indulgence, Olivia had to face the task she’d promised the vixen upon its deathbed. Without a doubt, it was going to be one of the hardest things she’d ever have to do in her entire life. Nevertheless, daylight was waning and she couldn’t put it off any longer.
As if aware how excruciating this would be, the attached shed provided a little token charity in the form of a shovel. The blade was chipped and the weathered handle seemed capable of multiple slivers, but it was a godsend all the same. No one could possess the fortitude to accomplish the deed by hand.
Even though the kits couldn’t possibly perceive her tragic
mission, she covered their box before she left all the same. Silly? Maybe.
Too late to walk (not that she could have summoned the energy), Olivia managed to coerce the truck to the tower. Once there, she hoisted the shovel over her shoulder and inhaled as deeply as she could. Without further hesitation, she started toward that, which she would have gladly sacrificed a week’s salary to avoid.
Although secretly wishing that nature would grant her a reprieve from such a repugnant obligation, she found the vixen exactly where it had perished.
Olivia recoiled at the sight.
Despite the horrific image, she somehow fought the urge to turn and run. Resigned to the inevitable, she lowered the shovel and faced her gruesome chore. In spite of tree roots, flies, and the nauseating smell, she endeavored her wretched objective, later marveling at her own tenacity.
Utterly committed, she somehow managed the heart-wrenching tribute befitting such a martyr, ultimately whispering, “Sleep well dear one. Don’t worry about your babies, I’ll take good care of them.”
To her credit, Olivia didn’t even throw up until the last shovelful had been spread out over the vixen’s final resting spot. If a picture of her face had ever surfaced, however, mascara manufacturers would have to stop advertising the staying power of their product. Like a black comedy, her tear-stained cheeks dripped into the ultimate Rorschach inkblot. Her bathroom sink would probably never recover.