Different Kind of Beauty

by Sylvia McNicoll

  “I don’t know. Maybe music. Dad once said eye contact with clients is really important.”

  “Aw, parents say dumb stuff they don’t really mean.”

  She turned the car then, and stopped the engine. “See you tomorrow.”

  I waited for a moment. “Yeah, sure. That would be great, Maddie.” I slid out of the car and shut the door. I walked, smooth and steady, up to my own door, not bothering with the cane. I even whistled as I headed to my room to listen to A Separate Peace.

  Maddie doesn’t identify with the character either, I thought as I typed up my response journal. Maddie, Maddie, Maddie. Light filled up my whole soul. Tomorrow I would be with her; she would count blocks with me, and steps. I couldn’t even understand or name the secret hope that was building with all that light.

  It kept building the next morning. Five blocks of walking; knowing beautiful Maddie, with the slightly upturned nose, was following. I didn’t fear for my life as I listened for traffic and confidently stepped off the curbs. I never swerved on the sidewalk nor missed a step as I climbed onto the bus. After school she came home with me, too. It felt so good, like nothing had changed between us. Friday would be our last two walks together, so I planned once again to ask her to a party at Ryan’s.

  Instead I was shocked when she introduced Adam at the end of the day. “Adam’s going to meet me at your house so we can go out after. Or did you just want a lift home?”

  “No!” I snapped, my stomach tightening into a fist. “I need the practice.” We got on the bus together silently, everything inside me dropping and darkening. I asked the driver to announce my stop and found us a seat. I decided I had to at least try again. “Maddie, I really wanted you to come to Ryan’s with me.”

  “Oh, right, I’m supposed to help you get to the Coma Palace. It’s two stops after school. I’m sure he can send someone to meet you.”

  “No, you don’t understand. I wanted you there with me.”

  “You just met Adam.” She sighed. “You have to know I only want to be your friend.”

  Then I became too desperate. I reached for her face and leaned toward it, forcing a kiss on her. She didn’t return it. Instead she pushed me away.

  “I can’t stand it, Maddie. I can’t just be friends.”

  “That is your problem!”

  “Sunnydale Avenue!” the bus driver called, and I stood shakily. I shuffled off, with Maddie following, and when she got into Adam’s car I couldn’t even tell her goodbye. I didn’t trust my voice.

  It still cracked and rasped when I picked up the ringing phone ten minutes later.

  “Ready to go for a beer run?” Ryan asked.

  “I don’t know.” Did it sound like I’d been crying? “Maddie just pulled away with her boyfriend.”

  “Aw, man. What a bummer.” He waited for a few seconds. “Tell you what. Let’s get the beer. Then we’ll take the top down and you can take the Mustang for a spin. Just to make things interesting, you can back it around the parking lot this time.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Elizabeth and Beauty

  Cloud Shapes

  Friday night, and Scott had spent it with me. Most people would wonder about that. I mean, maybe he’d even had a fight with Gwen. Maybe he was free to take me to the semiformal coming up in a few weeks—that’s what Alicia had suggested, anyway. I should buzz right up to him and invite him out before they had a chance to make up.

  Just lucky I went to the bathroom at the right time to hear about Rebecca’s karaoke sleepover. Apparently Gwen did a great Britney Spears imitation.

  So Scott had spent time with me only because Gwen had been busy. I could have made such a fool of myself. Still, Alicia begged me to come to the dance anyway. She wanted to go, and I looked so great dressed up. I needed to show Scott that I could have a great time without him.

  The dance was in three weeks—the Friday of Beauty’s final assessment, actually. But there were posters all over, announcements almost every day, pushing buying tickets in advance to save a couple of bucks. Alicia bought us a pair, convinced she could change my mind. I talked to Deb and she pulled out a really cute black two-piece leather outfit. Beauty sniffed it approvingly.

  “I’m not going to fit into this for a while. You can borrow it,” she said as she held it against me.

  “But should I go, Deb?” Beauty sat down, tongue hanging out, waiting for my decision.

  “Of course! Have a good time! How does that country song go, that Dad always plays? ‘Better to be sorry for something you’ve done than for something you’ve never tried.’”

  “Yeah, but Scott only spends time with me when Gwen’s busy.” Beauty sank down, head between her paws.

  “Did you ever think you might only find Scott attractive because of Gwen? I mean, you told me last year when you broke up, the feeling was mutual.”

  “No.” I slipped the leather jacket over my T-shirt and looked at myself in the mirror.

  “Remember, you only noticed Scott after Alicia went out with him.”

  “But I haven’t gone out with another guy since,” I complained as I shimmied out of jeans and slipped on the skirt. “Alicia’s gone out with four.”

  “So you’re pickier. When you least expect to meet someone new, there he will be, the perfect one. Ooh, that black leather works on you.”

  “Yeah! I really like it.” So I decided to go. Beauty scrambled up, sniffed again and wagged her tail. I must have smelled like a giant rawhide treat to her.

  Alicia and I spent some time in the mall buying accessories: purple beads, and earrings. Beauty came with me. Of course, there wasn’t much time to make really sure she behaved well on the bus. We hummed to her and she stopped pacing. I thought she should do OK on her tests.

  I didn’t trust Deb’s platforms so I borrowed some short black boots from Alicia. Everything looked so great together, I knew that Friday would go perfect. But when I got home that Friday afternoon, Beauty’s assessment day, she wasn’t in her crate yet. Had she flunked? Mom wasn’t around to ask. I dressed and ate some microwavable pizza, waiting and wondering.

  She never showed up, either, and I had to leave for the dance. None of Alicia’s compliments made me feel any better as I stepped up to the dance table and handed in my ticket.

  “Too bad they let the tweenies in,” I heard someone say. Oh, no, not him! It was the blind guy, Kyle, and the other greasy senior who always ogled all the girls.

  “Look, you two match,” Alicia said, because of course, Kyle was dressed in his cool-dude blacks. “Gosh, he’s cute,” she added, and I couldn’t lie enough to disagree. Alicia giggles when she’s nervous, and sometimes it’s catchy. I found myself laughing a lot that night. Even when I saw Scott and Gwen being separated by a teacher, they were so all over each other. Even when Alicia paired up with a guy from computer science. Even when the blind guy jammed along with the other guitarist in the band. He sang a solo, too, called “Too Many Girls for One Guy.” He strutted and sang, so sure of himself, I didn’t feel sorry for him at all, no matter what Scott said. After that number—and witnessing Gwen and Scott in the hall—I couldn’t giggle anymore.

  My mouth felt tired. I tried to call home about Beauty, but no one answered, so finally I snuck out and caught the first bus home.

  “Beauty!…Beauty!” No dog rushed me at the door. I held my hand to my chest. She must have panicked at a sound. Then the trainer might have just kept her, to work on her himself.

  “Mom! Deb!” I thought I heard soft, tinkling music coming from downstairs so I pounded down, calling, “Is anyone home?”

  I followed the tinkling Brahms’ Lullaby to the baby’s room which—surprise, surprise—now had a door. I opened it, and the music-box chimes grew louder. A circle of bears danced from a white hook screwed to the side of a new white crib.

  Mom lay on the shiny new wood floor beside the crib, scribbling madly on a yellow pad. When she finally looked up, her eyes seemed focused on a dream going on inside her he
ad.

  Beside her, Beauty, with her lip hooked over her incisor, wagged her butt.

  “Hold still, girl, if you want me to get you right!” Deb said from her spot on a stepladder. “Oh, hi, Liz.” She pulled down a little paint mask from her nose. “How was the dance?”

  “Fine,” I answered, staring up at a fluffy white cloud Deb seemed to be shading in to look like a Labrador retriever. “How did Beauty do on her test?”

  “No complaints, from what I heard,” Mom answered. “What rhymes with Teal? So many things…zeal, squeal…” Mom continued, madly scribbling.

  “Guess what!” Deb brightened and smiled, a new thing for my sister. Her whole face softened and warmed.

  “What?”

  “We had to have another ultrasound today. The doctor thought there was something off about the baby’s due date.”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “And his picture’s over there on his new bureau!”

  “His?” I stared at what looked like a huge negative with a vague, blobby outline of a baby.

  “That’s Teal’s penis.” Deb pointed with her paintbrush to another blob.

  “Teal?” I asked.

  “It’s the color of the paint I used for the backdrop of the clouds. Mom thought it was a great word for her poem. I loved it too. Could be a girl’s name, too, if the ultrasound is wrong.”

  “Baby Teal,” I said out loud, still trying to get used to the idea and make the baby real to me. I wanted to make the name fit to the unknown gray blob, too. I wound up the circle of bears and then lay down on the floor between Mom and Beauty, staring up at those clouds, listening to the lullaby.

  Debra had shaded them all in differently so that you could pick out suggestions of animals. “That’s you right there, Beauty!” I pointed up to the dog cloud Deb had just finished. Beauty lifted her head up and then, looking confused, just licked my face. “You won’t be here when the baby comes. But I’ll show him, and whenever I look up at that cloud, I’ll remember you.”

  Kyle

  Hit!

  Even after Mom returned from her conference, I fought with her to continue getting to school on my own. “I need to get around without you,” I insisted. “And without constant practice, I lose my bearings.” Dad supported my stand, suggesting that maybe soon I’d get into the guide-dog program and then she wouldn’t have to worry at all. Fat chance, I thought, feeling pretty safe from that. Hopefully, by the time they realized I’d never be accepted into the guide-dog program, my new-found independence would have softened their disappointment. Mom’s and Dad’s, at least—Shawna was really in it for the dog.

  Without Maddie in my life, I continued hanging from the arm of any girl I could coax to Ryan’s Coma Palace. They all liked the sad songs I wrote and sang, but I never could attach myself to anyone. It was like that one rap song always played in my head:

  You think she’ll always love you

  But her love might fade away.

  None of the girls seemed worth the risk. Not like Maddie.

  Every other weekend, Ryan’s parents would conveniently take off. And now at the beer store, I shuffled up to the cash on my own, instead of begging for help to buy a two-four. Either my sunglasses aged me or the clerk just couldn’t bring himself to card a blind guy.

  At the school semiformal in November, I met Andrea, whom I asked to Ryan’s next party. She didn’t have her license, though, and said she’d have to meet me there.

  Mom and Dad weren’t around to drive me either, although I hung around for a while, waiting. Finally I decided. By bus it was only two stops after school. Heck, I’d just ask the driver for help and go on my own.

  Shawna freaked. “You can’t leave. It’s dark and practically blizzarding outside.”

  “Shawna, there’s a girl waiting for me there. I can’t stand her up, can I? Besides, what difference does it make to me whether it’s dark or not?” There was nothing Shawna could say or do to keep me from going, and I left before she could try.

  But I felt the cold snow sting my face the moment I stepped outside, and my feet skimmed over the silky surface of the sidewalk. “Go slow. Take it easy,” I told myself. “No hurry. Andrea can wait a few extra minutes.”

  Clickety-clack. My cane sounded harsh and sharp against the soft whoo, whoo of the wind. First block, I stopped on the curb and listened as usual, but the wind blanketed all sound. I didn’t hear any cars. Second block, I paused, inhaling deeply to calm myself down. My heart beat with the same clickety-clack rhythm as my stick as I forced myself to cross. A car tapped its horn to signal just as I reached what felt like the midpoint of the road. “Go ahead,” someone called, maybe from a rolled-down car window. I continued across. Not so bad. There I was safe.

  Then the last big-whammy intersection, the four-way stop. So everyone had to stop. No problem, right? I just had to lead with my identi-cane; all the drivers could see I was blind and wait patiently till I crossed.

  I remembered what Amber had said about drivers watching for other cars instead of people. I also remembered Ryan nearly colliding with another car when he couldn’t figure out who’d arrived first to the corner. “Ah, what the hell,” he’d said and I’d felt him accelerate. I couldn’t see how close we’d come, of course, but the screeching tires and his “Damn! Where did that baby carriage come from?” made me breathe a lot quicker.

  Today I heard only the wind, so I paused for a few seconds and then headed across. Absolutely nothing happened. I’d made it across. This was so easy—after dark and in a storm. All that practice had paid off. I’d never be afraid of anything again. Just to the end of the block, about another sixty steps or so and I could wait for the bus. Ten, twenty, thirty…I’d counted out forty-five steps when a sound to my right froze me to the spot. An engine roared to life.

  It happened in a split second. I yelled out too late. Wham! Hard metal slammed into my legs. A moment of pain, and then the force knocked me to the ground. The second impact blasted white pain like forks of lightning right up into my head.

  The white seared at the back of my eyes, lighting all my thoughts up in a flash. And then, as always, everything turned dark again.

  This was getting to be a habit, waking up in a hospital bed, a solid mass of ache. When I shifted, the pounding in my head made my eyes tear.

  “Son? Can you hear me?” Dad called softly.

  I tried to move my lips. They felt dry and cracked.

  Mom spoke at me next. “You’ve been hit by a car, but you’re all right.”

  I grabbed my head to stop the pounding and swirling.

  “But I’d crossed the intersection. I wasn’t even on the street.”

  “No, some idiot backed out of his driveway,” Dad’s voice boomed.

  “Geez, my head is killing me.”

  “You have a concussion and some bruises, but otherwise you were really lucky.” Mom’s voice again.

  “Lucky?” My hands trembled as I pulled them away from my head. I remembered the impact of the metal against my legs, the cement crashing into my head. My whole body shook as I felt the fear and pain all over again. “I got hit by a car on a sidewalk, Mom. Do you find that lucky?”

  “Now son, snappin’ at your mother right now’s not gonna help anyone.”

  But I needed to snap at someone. I’d practiced and mastered walking by myself with that stupid cane. I’d stepped out into the streets trying to conquer my fears, and I’d done it. I should have been all right, but in the end nothing helped. I felt hot with frustration at my helplessness. Mom touched my brow with a cool, cool hand, and I pushed it away.

  “I’m sorry about this, Kyle.” Mom did sound as though she held herself responsible. “We shouldn’t have gone out without making sure you had a ride.”

  “Yeah, we’re sorry,” Dad agreed. “You just can’t go walking anywhere on your own. It’s not safe.”

  “I can’t have a life, really.” The inside of my chest started aching to match the rest of my body. “That driver migh
t as well have killed me.”

  “Don’t say that, Kyle. Please.”

  I couldn’t talk anymore. It was hard enough to just swallow. A nurse came in and gave me some painkillers. My whole body turned into a cement block that sank to the bottom of a pool of darkness.

  I dreamed I was dead. I couldn’t move my fingers or toes, couldn’t lift my arms or legs; my whole body was an anchor. But I could hear voices off in the distance: Shawna, Dad, Mom. I wanted to open my eyes and see them one more time. But oh, no, I caught a thought drifting in that blackness. You’re blind, Kyle. You can’t see.

  Then could I hug Shawna and argue with my dad? Could I taste Mom’s roasted chicken? Could I feel an icy wind numb my face in Ryan’s Mustang? Could I smell Maddie’s tangerine perfume, kiss her lips? Or any girl’s? Another thought drifted in like a fluffy cloud. No. You’re dead, Kyle. Nothing, no one. An eternity of this heaviness and emptiness.

  “I don’t want to be dead.”

  It wasn’t even something that had come from my head; no drifting. The words just shot from my mouth. Once I’d said them I woke up, head still aching.

  A gentle hand lay on top of mine. I could smell Maddie but I no longer trusted that scent. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s me.”

  Then I had truly died. I let my head sink back into the pillow.

  “Kyle, listen, I came as soon as I heard. I’m sorry.” It was Maddie!

  Another apology. “Oh, what for? You didn’t back up over me.”

  “I didn’t practice with you to Ryan’s.”

  “That wouldn’t have saved me. That last leg of the trip wouldn’t have made a difference. The car hit me five blocks from home. You would have had to come with me all the way.”

  “That’s what I mean. I should have come to Ryan’s with you. Adam’s not a boyfriend. I just asked him to go out that Friday so I couldn’t change my mind.”

  I heard the catch in her voice. “About us?” I imagined her eyes shining with tears.