Woman of Substance

by Bower, Annette

  Robbie couldn’t help but smile as she stepped into the student hustle and bustle and closed the door behind her.

  In the corridor, students were pushing toward their next class, while she untangled her MP3 player ear buds. Her progress was stopped short when her nose smashed up against a black leather jacket. Two hands gripped her shoulders and held her steady. Their warmth seeped through her fleece jacket. She blinked rapidly to clear tears caused from the pain of her crushed nose.

  Brown eyes leveled an all-encompassing gaze on her face.

  Oh no, here it comes. He’s going to recognize me from this morning. I’m supposed to stay out of his way, not plow into him, then stand and stare at whiskers on his chin.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  She wriggled her nose. “It’s bruised but not broken.”

  Jake Proctor studied her for a minute before nodding. “I’m glad. A nose is a necessary thing.”

  She felt, rather than saw students, rush past them. He set her away from him and pressed a folded tissue into her palm.

  While she fumbled with the tissue and juggled the wires, she heard him say, “Dr. Jake Proctor. You were waiting in Dr. Clifton’s office earlier, weren’t you? I recognize your jacket. The color reminded me of a place I’ve been recently.”

  She nodded and before she thought of a response, she heard Clifton’s voice from down the hallway. “Jake, you’re still here. Come meet Lynn. We’re going for coffee.”

  “I’ll make sure this student’s okay first.” When he spoke his breath sifted through her hair and for a moment she felt safe, protected against whatever would come her way. It was as if he were a magnet and her center of gravity was filled with iron filings.

  She extended her free hand. “I’m fine. Thanks.” She put on the happy, carefree smile of a student with no worries, rather than one who could lose everything she’d invested in the last five years. With a faint smile, she extracted her hand from his, ignoring the jumble of mixed signals her body was sending her, then hastened down the hall. She didn’t look back. She didn’t want to see Dr. Clifton. Dr. Jake Proctor rang some interest bell in her advisor, so he might be an asset. If Jean Clifton was busy helping her old friend and colleague, she may lighten up on her student. Besides, he had accused her of trying to fleece an old man just because she had dirt on her body and her wig was askew.

  As she continued walking, she felt like she was in the main street at high noon, and was sure Clifton’s eyes were boring a hole in her back. She shivered slightly before finally turning the corner, holding the tissue to her cheek. Who was she kidding, a lowly student? She stuffed the tissue into a side pouch of her backpack. Besides, Jake could make trouble for her if he found out she was the same person he’d encountered in the park this morning; the rules were professors hung out with other professors.

  She kept her MP3 player in her pocket until she was hidden behind the bookshelves in the library. What a roaring mess I can make, not once but twice within the same day. First, I’m accused of being a female predator; the next I’m a bumbling student staring awestruck at his a five o’clock shadow on his strong jaw. The universe is reminding me to have a social life. But not today. I’ve got work to do.

  Chapter 3

  At 8:30 a.m. on Saturday morning, Robbie set her coffee cup on top of her vanity, which rested in front of a bedroom mirror with a bright makeup light above. Her hazel eyes were the first frontier in her face. She placed a chestnut brown contact on her index finger and positioned it in her left eye and then repeated the procedure for the right. The deep color brought a protective, stable gaze to her reflection. Her eyes were her window to feelings. She needed to protect this project from prying eyes. On the side of the mirror she had taped a sketch that looked like a paint-by-number drawing, the precise transformation instructions for her face. She dotted and then blended concealer under her eyes. By using different shades, Monique, the makeup maven, had taught her how to create illusions of shadow, depth, and definition to specific areas. Instead of highlighting her cheekbones with a contour brush, she applied makeup to the top portion of her cheeks making them appear round and full with a light, flesh-toned pressed powder. Robbie accentuated her nose by lightening the areas around her nostrils and brushed light-tone makeup along the lower half, emphasizing the shape her jaw. Her natural bone structure was her guide. Pressing the softened wax along her gum line plumped up her mouth. The lighter shade applied outside her natural lip line created the illusion of a fuller face. She leaned closer to the mirror, then applied the foundation onto a foam sponge and blended with the facial contours. The effect was a natural veil, allowing the shadows and highlights to show through. She loosened the bristles on her powder brush against her palm and brushed with light, downward strokes over her face. Each time she went through the routine, it became more natural. The final application to the three expressive areas, her brows, eyes, and lips, were familiar except for the color change because she’d been applying makeup since she was twelve. To complement her auburn wig, she used a shade lighter than her usual brow color. She contoured her eyes with light and bright colors to bring them forward. She tipped her lashes with black mascara. The last lines she drew were moist, luscious lips, which balanced her makeup as well as brightening her face.

  She turned her head to the right, to the left, tilted it up, tipping a hand mirror to the light as she checked for makeup lines. Robin M. Smyth’s face was softer, fuller.

  The neck roll was stored in a satin sleeve. After she wound the faux fat around her neck and fastened the Velcro, her chin jutted in a more determined position. The curly wig slid into position over her short black hair. The purple rhinestone glass frames were a funky addition.

  After taking the suit from the closet, she pushed her feet through the padded leggings. The polyester foam thighs pressed against each other. Then she slipped her arms through the bulky triceps and forearms. Stretching, she drew up the zipper. She looked stronger. She took up space.

  She twirled the back of the bra to the front and fastened the four hooks and eyes, turned it back to the front and positioned the foam breasts into the cups, then slid her arms into the support straps. She had a cleavage formed by the triple-D black bra with embroidered appliqués. Margaret had advised her to always wear sexy underwear. This bra and matching panties had been Robbie’s splurge.

  She stepped carefully into the satin confection and pulled them over the protruding abdomen. The high-cut leg complimented her large thighs. I am a femme fatale. I’m a cornucopia of plenty. Looking over her shoulder and forming a pouty mouth with half-closed lids, she imitated the movie stars of the 1950s. She lost her balance, then stumbled back onto the bed. If Sharon could see me now, she’d toss her braid over her shoulder and she would think I’d lost my marbles bouncing around in the sheets by myself. She gave herself a mental shake. This was no time to play around. Her field study project was moving into another dimension. Shopping. She dressed in a sweatshirt, black polyester pants, and ankle socks.

  She was ready to move around her world and observe it from a different perspective. It was time to spend more of the money her godmother had bequeathed. Debit card in hand, she was prepared. The slacks and blouses Sharon, Mavis, and Margaret had loaned to her were suitable for an older woman while she wanted to appear to be the twenty-five-year-old master’s student she was.

  Robbie slid into her car and gasped. She felt like a circus performer in a clown car. She sat inches above her usual spot and her stomach pressed up against the steering wheel. She slid the driver’s seat back, and gave a sigh of relief. Now she could safely turn the steering while. She drove past the park, slowing to see if Frank was in his usual spot. Today, Jake wouldn’t have any reason to think she lived on the streets and begged from a lonely old man. She felt special with her wig sitting perfectly straight and her clothes clean and pressed. Perhaps today she’d remind Jake
of his grandmother. If he loved her as much as Frank, maybe he’d ease up on her. But neither man, nor goose, was near the bench.

  Robbie felt her lips begin the downward decent into a frown. “No way. Negative emotions are not allowed. This project is all about forward thinking. You’ll see them another time.” She glanced around making sure other drivers or pedestrians were not witnessing her little self-lecture. I’m supposed to be staying away from a certain man who obviously loves his grandfather. But there is a special something that calls to me. Plug your ears!

  Jake parked on the street in front of the house where he and his grandparents had once lived as a family. He ran his fingers through his wavy hair. He needed a trim. Grandma had loved combing his hair. She’d sit him on a stool and pinch the curls with her fingers. He smiled at the memory that hadn’t surfaced in a couple of decades. The two-story stucco house looked smaller than he remembered. He rolled down his window and heard children laughing in one of the backyards.

  Happiness was always easier inside their house, never outside. He loved the only mother he remembered. When she hugged him, he snuggled into her warmth. Nothing would hurt him. But when they went out, he felt self-conscious around her.

  “Grandma, I’m old enough to go to the mall alone.”

  “Jakey, I love to shop with you for school supplies and new clothes.” She would have tilted her head and listened to his reasoning.

  “The mall’s gonna be really crowded and hot.”

  “It has air conditioning and it won’t be too crowded if we get going. Tie my shoes, please.”

  When he was five, he tied his grandma’s shoes and stood up filled with pride, but five years later, he made sure the laces wouldn’t come undone in public by triple knotting the bow. He couldn’t kneel on the tiles in front of all the people in the mall and tie her shoes. He just wouldn’t. It had always been the same when they were out. People seemed to stare, point, and laugh at his fat grandma. When he was twelve, he punched another kid in the stomach for laughing at her. Security had escorted them out, and they took a taxi home. Until he could be trusted to go on his own, his grandpa took him shopping and to the barber.

  Jake felt shame at his relief. It was easier having a grandpa who told stupid jokes than being seen out in public with his fat grandma. Seeing his granddad chatting with a woman who resembled his grandmother in the park had brought back those uncomfortable childhood memories. He shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions, but Frank had a way of attracting strangers into his life. Initially, Jake had thought he could intimidate her. She wouldn’t look him in the eye, so she was covering up something, but what? Or was she self-conscious about her appearance? Even though she was strange-looking, she had a sense of dignity when he accused her of begging.

  Maybe if she hadn’t been there the first time he saw his dying grandfather he’d have been nicer. But he’d returned to this small, prairie city because his grandfather’s doctor had been blunt. Jean Clifton contacting him just when he needed to come home was a strange coincidence. She convinced him that he could compile his research and field notes here, as well as at the University of Ottawa. Teaching first year students on campus again would certainly be different for him. He’d have to remember to simplify his lectures from his grad students’ anthropology course.

  Today he planned on surprising Granddad and offering a change of scene. They could meander around a mall where it was warm and have a coffee in the food court, see people, and rest on benches when necessary. But Frank had said, “No thank you, maybe another day.” The man who was his hero had been average size but had become even smaller, fragile. He resembled the elders of the !Kung San, who were revered for their wisdom. Frank had always been wise, but as a kid, Jake just hadn’t realized it.

  Robbie parked her car at a mall entrance. She turned her body and stretched her legs so her feet were touching pavement and then grabbed onto the door and swiveled her body on the seat, extracting herself from her previous familiar space. Compact cars were made for compact people. She smacked her forehead, no wonder Margaret, Sharon, or Mavis didn’t want to ride in her car. The big mall doors opened smoothly and she sauntered down the hall toward The Better Half. Nadine was right. The store sign advertised sizes for full-figured women, for women who had dimples in more places than just around a smile. This was the place for her. The store was well lit with plenty of space for maneuvering around the clothing racks. There were emerald greens, royal blues, and deep pinks—so many choices besides black. A middle-aged sales clerk approached her. “Can I help you find something?”

  “I can’t believe I haven’t been in your store before. I’d like to purchase some fall clothes.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “I’m looking for a business suit for an interview with a corporation, something stylish for a high school reunion, and some casual outfits.”

  “You’ve come to the right place. Here are the corduroy pants and light sweater tops. Our formal wear is in the back left, and the business attire is on the right. By the way, there are sizing charts on the pillars around the store.”

  “Thank you so much. I’ll browse.”

  “When you’re ready, you can take your selections to the fitting area over there.” The clerk pointed with her perfectly manicured index finger.

  The dressing rooms were spacious, furnished with a chair, and the full-sized door went from way past the top of Robbie’s head to the floor. There wasn’t any chance of anyone seeing things they shouldn’t. It was a luxury to sit and pull on slacks rather than trying to balance on one foot.

  Robbie had picked out a gray skirt and jacket for the interview, some matching tights, and a crisp white blouse, as well as a couple of pantsuits.

  The other shoppers were busy carrying armloads of clothes into the fitting rooms. No one paid attention to her.

  She twirled in front of the mirror. Normally, her clothes were purchased to accentuate her modest figure, but this fabric clung to her bust, complimenting the voluptuous curves. This was going to be easier than she thought. Sitting, she started tugging on the tights. She reached her mid calf when sweat beaded on her forehead. Talk about one inch forward, two back. She would wear pantsuits for the interview as well as the high school reunion.

  “Would you like any help?”

  Robbie’s breaths came in quick, agitated puffs. Her voice was high and squeaky. She couldn’t risk anyone seeing her in this get-up, but getting in and out of these clothes was proving a chore. “Could I have a size twenty-two in these?” Standing behind the door, and out of sight of the mirror behind her, Robbie handed the salesclerk the lavender embroidered, beaded jacket, and five-pocket blue jeans.

  After several more exchanges, Robbie felt she’d done the best she could with what she had, and it wouldn’t use all of her godmother’s money, either.

  With two shopping bags full of new clothes, Robbie strolled toward the door when the salesclerk motioned to her. “Now you come back when you need more clothes. We’ll be getting in a whole new Christmas line next week. You’d look good in a deep, sexy red.”

  “Thanks. Sexy red could be interesting.” Robbie waved, then with her shopping bags in hand she meandered through the mall. At a trendy boutique, she saw a red dress. Do I dare spend money on a red dress? A sales clerk met her just inside the door and said, “Sorry, we don’t have anything in your size.”

  “Can’t I look?”

  The woman shrugged her shoulders, turned her back on her, then huddled with the other salesclerk at the cash register.

  Robbie heard laughter and her belly tightened as she clenched and unclenched her fists around the handles of her bags. She adjusted her stride and approached them with a tight-lipped teeth-exposed expression and asked, “Have you heard of mystery shoppers?” She crooked her finger to draw them closer. “Just to let you in on a little secret, I’m strik
ing this store from my list of potential candidates for Service of the Year Award.” She stood in the security beam, letting it beep and beep before leaving with her head held high and a quick finger wave to the clerks. Another false tale. I’m getting in deeper.

  Had those clerks had any idea how they could damage someone’s self esteem just by not giving them respect and standing together and laughing? Be honest, they didn’t have to be laughing at you. Maybe one of them told a joke. She took a deep breath before heading into her favorite shoe store where she scanned the shelves while calming her nerves. The bronze loafers on the bottom shelf would match her newly purchased swish pantsuit.

  “Can I help you find something?” A saleswoman approached wearing an authentic smile.

  “I’d like to try those bronze loafers in a size eight, please.”

  “Have a seat, I’ll bring them right out.”

  Robbie kicked off her walking shoes and slipped her feet into the new shoes. She strolled around the shop in the shoes and then sat with her feet extended to admire them when a pair of black-tasseled loafers barged into her field of vision.

  A deep voice said, “So we meet again.”

  Her eyes shot up the length of black jeans and black leather jacket to a clean-shaven chin and brown, twinkling eyes. “Jake Proctor.”

  “Hello, Ms. Smyth. I’m glad I saw you when I passed the store. My grandfather told me an apology is necessary for my rudeness when we met. I am sorry I made assumptions about you yesterday.”

  “Apology accepted.” She licked her lips. She should have refreshed her makeup. “Call me Robin, please.” She’d perspired trying on so many clothes and it was hot in the mall. Her wig probably shifted. Maybe he’ll think I have a medical reason for wearing a wig. No, lots of women wear wigs. There are stores selling them all over the place. She pulled her sweatshirt away from her belly.