I marched to the front doors, that loomed even larger up close. Grape vine balls complete with clear lights dangled from the branches of the mature trees that abutted the house. Unlike other houses, there were no cutesy lawn ornaments. Though the decorations tried to give the illusion of being tastefully understated, in my opinion they screamed that the Lawrences had loads of cash and wanted everyone to know it.
Even before I rang the doorbell I heard boisterous laughter from inside the house, and it served to infuriate me so much that my body vibrated. How could Marilee’s parents go on with their lives, as if they hadn’t tossed away their sick daughter like so much trash?
I pressed the glowing button for the doorbell. The musical sound that came reminded me of the organ the Phantom of the Opera played. I heard the dead bolts being disengaged. A few seconds later a petite woman with glossy black hair, drawn up into a severe bun and dark eyes to match, stared out at me. In her early thirties, the woman was obviously the maid. She was dressed in a crisp black mid-sleeve dress that fell below her knees. A snow white apron was tied at her waist as if to prove a point that she was indeed staff.
“Can I help you?” she asked, her tone bordering on snooty. I guessed from her chilly demeanor and the way her brows lifted in what I clocked as wariness, I didn’t match what she was expecting to see at her front door. I guessed people who looked like me didn’t frequent this part of town much.
Beyond the maid I spotted a swirling hardwood staircase, a little off the foyer. What appeared to be a white feather boa that had been dipped in silver glitter, twined in and around the length of the brass banister. Sparkling clear carved crystal balls the size of walnuts were daintily suspended in intervals along the railing. At the foot of the staircase, a tree made of the same stuff as was on the stairs, and that was at least ten feet tall, was adorned by even more crystals. To me all the decorations looked absurd and not even remotely like Christmas.
“I’m here to see Luanne and Harold,” I said. I crossed my arms over my chest in a move that I hope conveyed that I wasn’t leaving until I saw them.
“What’s this about?” she said, taking a tentative step back as if my presence threatened her. I knew I was a big guy and with my razor cut hair and leather jacket, I might have looked a bit edgy, but I wasn’t exactly holding a knife to her throat either.
“They’ll know,” I said, taking a step forward. I could tell by the way her hand twitched at the edge of the door that she was a second away from closing it in my face. I couldn’t let that happen. Not before I had a chance to say my piece. The maid took a few more steps back. There was no mistaking the fear in her gaze now. As much as I was sorry that she was scared of me, it wasn’t enough for me to leave before I talked to Marilee’s parents.
Luckily I didn’t have to force my will because just then Harold, dressed in nothing less than a tuxedo with a white bow tie and looking like a dwarf penguin, joined the maid.
“That’s okay Karla, I’ll handle this,” Harold said in a clipped tone. Karla, looking more than relieved to be dismissed, left without a backward glance.
“You shouldn’t be here?” Harold said. Though there was mild irritation in his voice, his face was quietly impassive. Before he could shoo me out the door I closed it behind me. From the look in his eyes the move surprised Harold, but he rapidly recovered, his face remaining expressionless.
For the whole walk over I’d rehearsed what I’d planned to say to these deadbeat parents that claimed to be Marilee’s guardians, but now that I was there I was oddly speechless. Harold moved a smidgen closer. I realized that in his own way he was trying to be imposing. It was impossible given that I had almost two feet of height over him. Harold opened his mouth to say something but before he did, Luanne swept into the room.
She was garbed in a black silky dress that hit every one of her curves. Her outfit reminded me more of something a person might wear to bed not a dinner party. Her platinum blonde hair was swept up with strategic curls falling loosely to her shoulders. Her hair style, much like the outdoor decorations, was supposed to have given the illusion of casual elegance, but missed completely. In my opinion with her fire engine red lipstick and overdone eye makeup she looked like someone who wanted to appear like a movie star, but didn’t have even a tenth of the beauty to pull it off.
“Has something happened to Marilee?” Luanne said in a voice much higher and hysterical than was required. She shot an appraising glance over her shoulder, clearly putting on a show for any of her guests who might had cast their eyes our way. When she saw that my presence had gone virtually unnoticed, her face darkened and her eyes turned to slits of fury. I had to admit I liked her better like this because it made it easier to say what I needed to.
I threw my shoulders back, straightened my spine and tried to look as tough as I could. It was something that, given my height and stature, I’d always been good at. I reached into my pocket. Before I retrieved what I’d intended, Luanne released a tiny shriek, clutching at the sparkling diamond necklace at her throat. It had so many diamonds on it that I wondered what princess she’d stolen it from.
“What’s wrong?” Luanne said, fingering the grape-sized diamond at the center of her necklace. I stared at her for a minute, stunned by the bullshit she was slinging. I wondered how someone as calculatingly shallow as Luanne, could ever have had a daughter as amazing as Marilee.
“Well besides the fact that you’ve decided that Marilee isn’t welcome in her own house anymore, not much I guess,” I said, shaking my head.
I felt my temper crest. I knew that if I didn’t keep it under wraps I might end up doing something stupid. I refused to put Marilee through any more than she was already dealing with.
I pulled out the picture that I’d been carrying for quite a while. Just looking at it, dog-eared and a little crumpled, made a vise tighten around my heart.
“If it were up to me I’d cut my losses and say screw you both, but Marilee’s a better person than I am. She actually still cares about you two, despite how you’ve treated her,” I said. My voice caught. I glanced down at the picture, all the while trying to keep a handle on my emotions.
I locked eyes with Luanne who had moved in beside Harold, clinging to his arm like she was a scared child. I absently wondered if she would turn on the waterworks or if she’d preserve her tacky makeup job instead.
“As you can probably tell I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth. Truthfully I’ve always kind of hated people like you, because as far as I could see you guys were all stuck up assholes. You of course both fall nicely into that category.” I raked a hand through my hair then shook my head.
I took two long steps, closing the distance between Luanne and me. I shoved the photo toward her. Instead of looking at it she glared at me, giving me a stare that might have made most people cower. It didn’t phase me though.
“Look dammit,” I said, my voice going up a few octaves. “Look at her, can’t you see how beautiful she is and that her hair and makeup and all that other stuff that girls do to themselves, means nothing. It’s her core that matters. How can you ignore her, how can you not see her perfection?”
Harold’s eyes drifted down to the photo. I was shocked when he gingerly took it from me. He gazed down at Marilee’s image, a picture I’d taken of her when she’d been asleep. In the picture, swaddled in her pink and lilac quilt she looked like a cherub painted by Michelangelo.
Harold pressed his lips together, tenderly touching the photo as if it were a living being. That simple act warmed me and made me hope that he wasn’t as far gone as I’d imagined. I glanced at Luanne. Unlike Harold she seemed to be doing everything in her power not to look at the picture.
“Look at her,” I whispered my voice going deep with emotion. “Look at your daughter and see her, really see her.”
As if a string had been attached to the top of her head, Luanne’s eyes, the only part of her that had any similarity to Marilee, caught sight of the picture that Ha
rold seemed mesmerized by. And when she did, something happened, a tear trailed down her cheek. But unlike the fake tears she turned on at will, I was quite sure that it was probably the first real one she’d cried in a long time.
15. Marilee
When Jax walked into the room there was a swagger in his step. With the way he was dressed I understood why. Clad all in black, from his ebony t-shirt to his jet combat boots, he was quite a step away from his standard faded jeans and graphic t’s. The only part of his ensemble that was familiar was his black leather jacket. Even his hair was different, a little spikier than normal. Gold studs dotted his earlobes and he was even wearing a thin gold hoop in his nose. I was literally stunned by his transformation.
Jax wasn’t a shrinking wallflower, but he sure didn’t look like this on a regular basis either. With him looking this good, I was glad that he didn’t dress like this always, since every girl in a ten mile radius would have been drooling over him.
“Come on,” he said before I could say anything.
My mouth went dry and I was all a flutter. My over the top reaction seemed weird because I saw Jax everyday. But what I hadn’t realized until right then was that Jax was two people, the toned down guy I’d grown to love and this god, who could easily have graced a Rolling Stone magazine cover.
Though I didn’t want to, I couldn’t help but feel ugly and insignificant when he was standing there larger than life. For the umpteenth time I wondered why he was even with me.
“Where?” I asked. I glanced at the wall clock that read 9:00 p.m.
“It’s a surprise,” he said with a smirk. I practically melted. They say clothes don’t make the man, but right then I begged to differ.
“I can’t go anywhere,” I said. I motioned to my outfit, black yoga pants and an emerald green scoop neck t-shirt, as if it were enough of an explanation.
It had been two weeks since my last chemo treatment and I was feeling somewhat better, but I wasn’t at the top of my game yet. My appetite had come back a little and even the sores in my mouth that disappeared. A fine fuzz of new hair growth, that someone would have probably needed a microscope to see, had also sprouted on my head. But despite my improvements, I was in no state to go anywhere with him.
“Change then, I can wait,” he said. He shoved his hands into his pockets and tilted his head to the side. “But if you ask me you already look perfect.”
Right on cue I felt my cheeks flush. My lips curved into a grin.
“Damn boy, you can lie,” I said, winking at him.
Jax’s face went straight. I detected a touch of irritation in his eyes. “I’m not lying. Why do you always say stuff like that? Why do you always have to minimize your beauty?”
I shrugged. “Maybe because calling me beautiful is a bit of a stretch. I’d say in the state I’m in right now I’m halfway between barely passable and fugly.”
I laughed for effect. I wasn’t actually amused since it was how I really felt, but Jax didn’t need to know that.
“Okay, now you’re just pissing me off,” Jax snapped. And it was so unlike him that I was taken aback.
I narrowed my eyes. “What do you have to be pissed about? You come in here looking like all that, and you expect me to feel like a Vogue model? I mean seriously anybody with two eyes can see that we’re not exactly a match at the best of times, but now...”
Jax threw his shoulders back. He looked as if he was ready to unleash a string of unpleasant words, but he didn’t. With more control than I’d expected, he quickly deflated.
“Please Marilee. C’mon I have a surprise for you. It means a lot to me…” He cast his eyes to the floor. He was a tower of a guy, but for a fraction of a second he looked like a small uncertain boy. My resistance snapped like a toothpick.
“Fine, but at least let me change,” I said, extricating myself from the bed. Jax moved toward me. He snared me in his arms before I could leave. His lips were hot and wet on mine and he tasted of coffee and mint, not to mention that he smelled divine, of leather and cologne. I threaded my fingers around his neck, going on my tiptoes so I could reach him. His hands gripped my hips, supporting me. I could have kissed him forever.
“I’d love to snog all night but we really have to go,” Jax said, breaking away. He gave me a little tap on the butt. I eyed him with mock disapproval. With a playful eye roll, I turned away from him. I went to my closet that was filled with more clothes than I could have worn in a lifetime. Mom was always buying me new outfits and sending them with Harold. Although since Thanksgiving she’d actually managed to drop by herself a couple of times.
I knew that Jax had paid Mom and Harold a visit the night he’d stormed out, but I had no idea what he’d said or done, only that even though he’d looked like he was going to kill my parents, they were still alive and kicking. Small miracles.
“What should I wear?” I asked.
Jax shrugged. “That I don’t know, but I can tell you it’s not candlelight and fine dining and it’s not McDonalds either…so you decide.” He gave me a cute wink. I wanted to kiss him all over again. It surprised me that I never seemed to have my fill of Jax.
Then something dawned on me. “What am I thinking? I can’t go anywhere, I don’t have a pass.” I sighed, crestfallen. Because even though I had no idea where he was taking me, it was surely away from the hospital and this room. But I needed permission to leave my prison.
“Handled,” he said with another cryptic grin.
“Okay then. My Mom always said don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” I said, then shrugged. “Though I still have no idea what that even means.”
Jax sprawled out in the chair. He twirled his long-fingered hand in a move that said to hurry up. Taking the hint I dug through my closet for something to wear. As expected there was so much to choose from that it was hard to pick. Finally, I decided on a black mini skirt that went mid-thigh and a soft beige and camel brown flowing cap sleeved blouse, that I hoped would hide how skinny I was. Beige pumps and a three quarter length wool coat finished the look. I knew it was cold outside and the stupidest thing I could wear was a skirt, but I couldn’t resist. I’d been in scrubby clothes for too long to miss an opportunity to dress girly. I just hoped my coat would save me.
Jax lounged in the chair with his eyes clothes like he didn’t have a care in the world. Meanwhile I was a bag of nerves because even though we’d been together for more than a month, it felt like we were going on our first real date. I slipped into the bathroom and showered as fast as I could. All the while my stomach lurched every time I thought about where we were going.
When I got dressed I realized that the skirt was a little baggy around my hips but not enough that it was noticeable. The blouse did exactly as I’d planned, effectively hiding my lack of curves. I decided to wear a pair of sheer tights for added protection and was satisfied that my legs didn’t seem as twig-like as I’d expected. All in all I was feeling pretty good about myself until I looked at my face in the mirror.
For the most part the toll the cancer had taken on me could be camouflaged by clothes, but from the neck up it was a completely different thing. Seeing the purplish-blue circles under my eyes and how sallow my skin was, and that the bones in my face were too prominent, I wilted. I wanted to stay in the bathroom and never come out. Next to Jax, who would make even a super model seem ordinary, I was pathetic.
I moved to the door and peeked out. Jax was still in the chair waiting patiently. As if he knew I was watching him, he turned toward me.
“Ready yet?” he asked.
His face was lit with an excitement. His attitude was so unlike his typical laid back demeanor that I knew I couldn’t disappoint him. No matter how terrified I was about going out in public, I had to suck it up for him. I had to do what I could to make myself halfway presentable, and let the rest go. In my mind it all sounded so mature and introspective, but in practice it felt like the hardest thing I’d ever had to do.
“Just a couple more minutes,
” I said. I closed the door quickly before he caught a glimpse of my uncertainty.
I opened my makeup bag and glanced in at the assortment of tubes, powders and hopefully cure-alls. I convinced myself that makeup could fix most of my flaws and if I wore a cute hat, it would be okay. I started applying makeup, concentrating on the job more than the results. I refused to assess my work until it was all done.
When I’d finished I stared at my reflection in the mirror. A virtual stranger peered back at me. It had been so long since I’d bothered to wear makeup that it was a shock to the system. My eyes that usually seemed sunken in, popped, with shades of green and gold, my gaunt cheeks were now sculpted and splashed with rosy color. My lips were peached-colored and glossy and actually appeared full. Even without hair I looked kind of okay. Though I swore that I’d never wear it, I tugged the hat-wig combo that Mom had bought me, on top of my head.
For a few seconds I was stunned into silence. I was a touch regretful that I hadn’t bothered to even try the wig-hat thing on before now. I knew Mom had spent a small fortune on it since it had real human hair attached to it, but I’d been too determined to not like it that I hadn’t even looked at it.
The soft white ribbed wool cap was ordinary enough, and something that most people wouldn’t look twice at given the time of the year. Attached in a way that gave the impression that it was real hair, the wig was silky blonde. It was so much like my own hair that I wondered if Mom had somehow collected my lost hair to make it.
I ran my fingers through the thick locks, imagining that it was really mine. I felt tears well in my eyes, but I shoved them away. I hadn’t spent all that time applying makeup just to cry it away. I wasn’t my mother and never planned to be. I brushed out the hair, letting it spill like spun gold over my shoulders and down my back. For once in a very long while I felt passable, maybe even pretty.
Tattoos: A Novel Page 15