Looking Glass Lies

by Varina Denman

  Make a list of things you like about yourself. Name at least five.

  I copied the task onto the top of my notebook page. This sounded easy enough. I only had to list five.

  Chewing on the end of my pen, I considered my talk with Graham. He had said Dad was only worried about his little girl, and Graham should know, right? He’d seen people in crazier situations than I was in. He’d said people lived through nightmares all the time. Every day.

  I smiled. Shanty’s challenge didn’t rank as much of a nightmare, with its curlicues and flowers around the edge of the page, but still my hand poised above the notebook, and then the tip of my pen made a tiny dot just above the first line. I neatly turned the dot into a number one, traced over it twice, then circled it. If Shanty had been around the block a few times, then she could be hiding as much as me. Clearly Nina was. I traced the circle, over and over, until it darkened around the number one. Then I filled it in completely, forming a black blob that dented the paper.

  Shanty and Nina may have been harmless, but I was fairly certain they would never understand the crux of my problems. Shanty was happily married, and Nina was so idealistic she was probably still waiting for Prince Charming to whisk her away. I leaned back on one palm and rested my head on my shoulder, wondering if I shouldn’t have told Nina I had gone out with Michael. The girl seemed to be a bit of a copycat.

  Leaning over my notebook, I wrote three words:

  My new hair.

  I really did like my haircut. It was nice to have it brown again, as though I had renewed a friendship with someone I hadn’t seen in a long time, and the style fit my personality. Not flashy. Not sexy. Not red. And for the first time in years, I didn’t long for the waist-length locks I’d worn as a teenager. The new cut made me feel as though I had stepped into my role as an adult. A role as myself.

  Combing my fingers through it, I pushed it behind my ear, then let my fingertips trail down my neck. The touch felt good. Touch therapy. Graham’s hug had felt good too—maybe too good—but I shoved the thought out of my mind as I remembered Brett’s hands on my body. When we were in college, I pushed him away as he groped for more contact. After marriage, we became comfortable with each other, and I lost some of my shyness, allowing him to look at my body and touch me.

  I shivered. Even though the sun was warm on my bare shoulders, an icy current ran through my veins. But Brett was part of my past, not my present.

  What else could I write on Shanty’s list? My figure wasn’t worth a mention. Sometimes other women told me I should be proud of my weight, but no. Not with these hips.

  My gaze slid from my thighs to the ground next to me where a beetle trekked across the gravel. I touched my pen to the dirt right in front of him, compelling him to turn to the side, and then I blocked that way as well. After sending him in frantic circles, I allowed him to pass, and he went on his way. His journey. Graham had preferred the term journey instead of nightmare, but he didn’t really understand what I had been through. How could he? Even if I told him—which I wouldn’t—no man could ever understand.

  I crossed my legs and rested my elbows on my knees. Maybe I should ask Shanty and Nina what they thought about Graham. I wondered if he had a girlfriend. If he had ever had one. I wrote a number two beneath the dark blob:

  My job.

  Shanty might not count that one since it wasn’t truly something about myself, but I liked that I had taken the job, and I liked that Graham had offered it to me. I liked that I could earn money while reading books and playing Solitaire. If I stretched it, I could claim I liked my decision to take the job. I rolled my eyes and groaned. I didn’t have to explain my reasoning to Shanty. “She probably won’t even look at this,” I said under my breath.

  Quickly I wrote a number three, then:

  Back home.

  It was nice to be in Canyon, even if Dad was driving me a little crazy. I supposed he couldn’t help it. Men had a way of trying to handle things. Dad. Brett. Maybe Graham too. Were they all alike?

  No.

  My dad really, really meant well.

  Graham probably did too, but I didn’t know him well enough to trust his motives.

  I fanned myself with the notebook, surprised at how warm it was for March. My face was even a little damp from perspiration, and I lifted the bottom of my shirt to wipe it away. Graham had done the same thing on Sunday when I found him on the side of the road with his bike. He’d been hot and sweaty, his freckled face glowing pink from exertion. And then pink from embarrassment.

  I chewed on the end of my pen again, thinking about him, wondering what his story was—his real story, the one he kept hidden—and I pictured him walking down the side of the road when he noticed me pulling up. He had been surprised to see me there, and he had smiled.

  Graham had a nice smile, which I knew was the result of years of orthodontia. And his eyes were friendly, as though the grin came from deep inside, not just on the outside where his lips moved. When we had walked through the park, he had smiled at the ducks, or geese, or whatever they were, and he had smiled at a story he was telling me about his mother. And he had smiled at me.

  When had Graham transformed from a skinny, braces-on-his-teeth drug user into an attractive man?

  I tapped the pen against the notebook, then put two hard lines through the last two items on my list.

  Coming back home and getting a new job were not things I liked about myself. They were decisions I had made, and even though I was glad I had made them, they hardly ranked as characteristics of Cecily Ross. I slapped the spiral notebook closed and stood, dusting my backside. Apparently my haircut was the sole thing I actually liked about myself.

  But I’d also discovered I liked . . . Graham Harper’s smile.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Group text from Shanty: Come to my barbecue today! (Can’t wait for you to meet my Al) please Please PLEASE come!!!

  Cecily: Relax. I’m coming.

  Nina: if cecily is i will 2

  Shanty’s cookout was as uncomfortable as I’d thought it would be. At least forty people milled around her spacious, manicured, perfectly inviting backyard, all talking and laughing. Men played Frisbee in the grass, women fussed over a buffet table on the deck, and children swarmed the play fort like a bed of fire ants that had been stepped on. Graham and I had entered through a side gate, and when Shanty greeted us, he had given her the impression we just happened to arrive at the same time. I wasn’t sure she bought it. Now she was watching us as if we were the stars of a reality television show.

  I spied Nina on the far side of the yard, standing alone with her back to the fence. Bless her heart. I headed her way, taking the opportunity to distance myself from Graham.

  “I’m glad you finally got here,” Nina said. “I don’t know anybody.”

  “I recognize a few, but they’re Shanty’s age, so they probably don’t even remember me.”

  “At least they’re familiar faces.” She crossed her arms. “Oh, look. There’s Dr. Harper.”

  I didn’t look where she pointed.

  Across the yard, Shanty clapped her hands loudly, and the adult chatter ceased. The children’s laughter barely lightened, but Shanty seemed used to talking over it. She stood on the brick edging of a flower bed. “I think we’ve got enough people here now to play a little game.”

  A low groan sounded among the adults, but there was just as much laughter mixed in.

  “Everyone needs a seat,” Shanty said. “I’ve got camp chairs and folding chairs leaning against the back of the house, and you’ll need to make a circle in the yard. We’re gonna play a game called Take a Hike.”

  Most people had looks of skepticism as they moved to find seating, and I considered sneaking inside and hiding in the bathroom.

  Evidently, Shanty’s children and their friends knew they weren’t expected to participate because they didn’t even slow down their play. I watched them enviously as I pulled a chair across the yard, then struggled to unfol
d it and balance it on the grass. Nina sat next to me.

  “Nice circle!” Shanty stood in the middle with a man I assumed was her husband. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I knew him from. “For those of you who don’t know my man . . .” She put her hand on his shoulder and shoved him. “This is Al. And of course . . .” She curtsied. “I’m Shanty.”

  “And she’s one of a kind. Beautiful inside and out.” Al grinned and kissed her on the lips, which prompted catcalls from the guests.

  Suddenly I remembered where I knew him from. Holy cow. He was the pharmacist, and Shanty was the wife he praised constantly. The one whose description reminded me of a skinny runway model. I blinked slowly. I didn’t know which was more bizarre: that Shanty was married to such an ordinary guy, or that her husband was blind to her weight problem.

  A man on the other side of Nina called out, “Shame on you, Shanty!” He wore a bright-lime-green shirt with matching green Nikes.

  Shanty grinned. “That’s right, shame on Shanty.”

  I wasn’t making sense of any of it until I remembered her blog was called Shame on Shanty, but even then, I didn’t see as much humor as everyone else seemed to.

  “This is how the game works,” she said. “Whoever’s in the middle of the circle makes a statement, then yells, Take a hike. And if you fit the description, then you have to get out of your chair and run to another chair. But of course, there aren’t enough chairs.” She cackled. “So if you don’t make it into a seat, then you’re the one in the middle, and you have to think up something for the next round.”

  “For instance,” Al said. “On my turn, I might say, If you’ve ever been to Disney World . . . take a hike! Then all of you who have been to Mickey’s paradise would run to a different chair. Everybody got it?”

  My face warmed, and I pressed my palms against my thighs, hoping the scabbed-over cuts wouldn’t hurt if I had to move quickly. Maybe Nina and I could work together and simply trade seats every round.

  “But there’s one thing we forgot to tell you,” Shanty called. “We want to make this a little more difficult, so we’re asking that you snag a partner. When a statement is called, you and your partner will run together, holding hands, if it applies to either one of you.”

  “But it’ll be hard to run holding hands,” the man in green whined, even though he clearly wasn’t upset.

  “That’s the idea,” Al said. “So y’all find a partner, then sit back down in your circle.”

  My nerves actually settled. Nina and I could be partners. Even if we got caught in the middle, at least we wouldn’t be alone. I turned toward her with a sigh.

  “It’ll be fun!” The man in green was holding his palm toward Nina, and she looked over her shoulder at me as she slipped her hand into his.

  She smiled slyly.

  “I’ve played this game before,” said the man with a wink, then he looked at me and lifted his chin. “Better find a partner, doll.”

  I turned away from him, surveying my options, but almost everyone had already paired up, and the pairs were starting to sit back down. The bathroom hideout was looking better all the time. Just then, a hand touched the small of my back. “Looks like I don’t have a partner. Would you mind too much?”

  Whether it was the touch of Graham’s hand or the calming tone of his voice, my anxiety lightened, and I motioned to a pair of open chairs. There was only time for me to say a quick Thanks, and Graham squeezed my hand in a silent You’re welcome.

  Al bellowed the first statement. “If you’ve ever played this game before . . . take a hike!”

  About half the chairs emptied, and a scramble commenced. Nina and the man in green leapt from their chairs and ran across the circle, slamming into another set of chairs just before another couple got there.

  “Nina’s played this before?” Graham asked.

  “No, that guy has.”

  “His name’s Jason.”

  The next couple whispered to each other for a few seconds before the woman called out, “If you’ve ever been to Al and Shanty’s house before . . . take a hike!”

  Graham and I settled back in our chairs, and I slid my hand from his. “Maybe we’ll get lucky,” I said.

  That time Shanty and Al ended up in the middle again, and she had quite a bit to say about it not being their turn yet.

  The man in green—Jason—called out, “Shame on you, Shanty. You should run faster.”

  She smiled, then conferred with Al, and they both nodded. “If you’ve ever been out of the continental United States . . . take a hike!”

  Graham looked at me questioningly, but I shook my head. Apparently neither of us had done much traveling.

  Jason was next, and he strutted around the circle, pulling Nina behind him. “It’s about time we livened this game up, don’t you think?” He looked around the circle with a challenging grin. “If you’ve ever done drugs . . . take a hike!”

  Graham gave a tiny sigh before grabbing my hand and jerking me out of my chair. He lunged to the left, but when another couple dove into the chairs he was heading for, I yanked him a little farther around the circle, and we made it to the last two remaining spots.

  Nina and Jason had gotten caught in the middle again, and I speculated about whether it was deliberate.

  “I’ve got an interesting one.” Jason grinned. “If you’ve ever had sex in the backseat of a car . . .” He laughed out loud. “Take a hike!”

  I looked at Graham, but he only shrugged, and then I rolled my eyes. Brett and I had sex everywhere. I yanked Graham to a standing position, and I thought I heard him chuckle. Fortunately, the couple next to us ran across the circle, and we merely slid down into their seats.

  The next pair in the middle smiled as though they had a great scheme planned, then they called out, “If you’ve ever been pregnant . . . take a hike!”

  Panic radiated up my spine, and my brain fogged in the same way it did whenever I was unexpectedly called on to speak in public. What answer did you get on number five, Miss Witherspoon? But this time, instead of stuttering an answer about music history, I involuntarily stood up. I moved slowly, as though my brain couldn’t make sense of the dilemma, and my body was stalling.

  Almost all the other couples moved too, and the circle turned to chaos. Graham was watching them and laughing and didn’t immediately notice I had stood, and when he did notice, my mind registered what I had done. I plopped back into my seat, focusing my gaze on the grass at my feet.

  Everything happened fast after that, but I felt as though I were watching it in slow motion. Graham stood at the same time I sat down, but before I could tug on his hand, another couple slammed into his seat, laughing and nudging me out of their way. Graham looked at me in confusion, then his confusion changed to compassion, then his compassion changed to urgency as he lunged forward to find another chair. The two of us and another couple were left scrambling for two remaining chairs, but they weren’t side by side.

  “Scoot down!” Graham called to the couples who were already seated, but they all moved down in the other direction, leaving the two available seats out of our reach.

  Then we were alone in the middle of the circle, all eyes on us, and I was glad he was still holding my hand.

  If I had been standing there naked, I wouldn’t have felt so conspicuous. Now everyone in the yard knew I had been pregnant. Even though most of them didn’t know me. My pregnancy wasn’t something I talked about, not even with the support group. But now, of course, Shanty and Nina knew as well.

  Graham didn’t even pause for breath. “If you’ve ever been to Canyon, Texas, take a hike!”

  And instantly, we were no longer standing in front of all those people, being scrutinized and judged, and sweating under an imaginary spotlight. Instead, Graham was pulling me solidly to the closest chair. As we sat down, I gripped his hand too tightly, but I couldn’t seem to ease up.

  He didn’t look at me, just kept smiling at all the commotion, but his eyes
seemed to be seeing something other than Shanty’s backyard. I wondered what he was thinking about me, but when his thumb rubbed gently across the back of my hand, I knew that whatever he was thinking, it wasn’t negative. And I tightened my grip on his fingers.

  Thirty minutes later, the chairs had been rearranged into small clusters, and we sat balancing paper plates of barbecue on our knees. Graham had stayed fairly close to my side as I filled my plate, and I didn’t mind.

  I nibbled my barbecue sandwich and listened, but in a lull, green-shirted Jason turned to me.

  “So, you have kids?” he asked.

  I swallowed. “Um . . . no. I don’t.”

  “But you’ve been pregnant before.” His eyebrows lifted. “I sense a story there.”

  “A lot of women have been pregnant before.” Al settled into a chair next to us. “It doesn’t mean there’s a story in it.” He reached out and shook my hand, then Nina’s. “Good to meetcha. Thanks for coming.”

  He didn’t mention me buying bandages, so I liked him immediately.

  “You sure know how to grill,” Graham said as he lifted his plate. “Best barbecue I’ve had in a while.”

  “Best barbecue around!” Shanty seated herself next to Al. “Thanks for cooking, babe.”

  The yard was quieter than it had been all afternoon, and as the guests’ stomachs got full, their moods mellowed. Even Nina seemed more comfortable. “When are you planning your demonstration, Shanty?” she asked.

  “Next Friday. You coming?”

  Nina’s eyes widened. “Can I?”

  “Sure! I need somebody to videotape it.” She chuckled. “And to lend some moral support.”

  “Would I have to—”

  “Not a thing, hon. Just stand back real inconspicuous like, and record it with one of our phones. Easy smeasy.” She glanced at me. “You wanna come too?”

  “Maybe?”