Someone Like You (Blue Club Books)

by Robin Hart

“Stay out of trouble.”

  “I will.” Melanie fidgeted. “Also, there aren’t a lot of other Christian kids there. Most people are drinking and…other things.”

  “Just makes the curve easier to beat, right?” Nicole said, aware that Melanie was kind of sensitive about her church. She and her parents had always gone to a Baptist church, had always followed strict rules. Religion was religion to Nicole, and she didn’t really care which one a person belonged to, as long as they didn’t use it as an excuse to treat other people badly.

  “I guess.” Melanie said. “So what about you? Any loooove on the horizon?”

  “No. Well.” Nicole said. She tried to decide if it was wise to tell Melanie what was going on. “If I told you something no one else knows, that no one else can know, could you keep it a secret?”

  “Sure.”

  “Cause if you can’t, that’s okay, I just won’t put you in that position by telling you. I know you hate secrets.”

  “Not if they are about boys. Is it about boys?”

  “Ish.”

  “Okay then. Good enough.”

  “Let’s go up to my room.” Nicole picked up a bag, and Melanie followed. When they got to the room, Nicole set down the bag and Melanie did the same. They sat on her bed, side by side.

  “I’ve been hiring male escorts.” Nicole decided to put the worst out before she was too chicken to say anymore.

  “You what?” Melanie said. “What do you mean?”

  “What I said. I’ve been paying men to go out with me. Sort of.”

  “Like a prostitute? A gigolo?” Melanie sounded choked. “Nicole, I know you aren’t very confident, but you are way too good to have to do that.”

  “It’s not like that.” Nicole sighed and grabbed a pillow to torture on her lap, since this would be a hard conversation.

  “What’s it like then?” Melanie was resolved to listen without any more judgments.

  “You know I have a hard time meeting nice guys.” Nicole said. “Being attracted to them, anyway.”

  “Yeah.” Melanie flushed, trying not to think of what she’d been told by her mom and aunt about the stuff Nicole had probably been through. “It’s not your fault though.”

  “No, it’s just that I’m at the age where a lot of my friends are getting married, and I need dates to their weddings, but at the same time, just kind of need a break from relationships right now.”

  “I see.”

  “So I use a club where I can hire an escort to come be my date, no expectations, I don’t have to worry about anything happening, I’m in full control.”

  “Control freak?”

  “Maybe.” Nicole said. “At this point I’d rather have too much control than too little. And there are the books to think of too. I need to stay focused.”

  “I can’t complain there. Me and my friends are dying to see what happens in the next one.”

  “Blargh, driving me nuts. Makes me want to kill my characters off.”

  “Don’t do that!” Melanie said. “My friends would disown me!”

  “Fine, I won’t then.”

  “I’m kidding.” Melanie said. “But I see what you mean about focus and I can see why you are doing the escort thing.”

  “Thanks.”

  “As long as they aren’t sleazy guys taking advantage of needy women.”

  “No, nothing like that at all.” Nicole said, pressing her advantage with Melanie’s approval to bring up Sean. “But that’s not the main part of the secret.”

  “It isn’t?” Melanie said. “Yikes. What’s the rest?”

  “Do you remember Sean?”

  “Yeah, you used to talk about him all the time, especially after you first moved. Your best friend right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’ve stayed in touch? Where is he now anyway?”

  “Yes, we’ve stayed in touch.” Nicole said. “I’m not sure where he is. That’s the thing.”

  “Wait…what does this have to do with the escorts.”

  “Oh Well. Just that he doesn’t approve.” Nicole said, hating that she was going to dodge it after all. Coward.

  “Ah.” Melanie said, being careful. “And do you want him to?”

  “No.”

  “Is he hot now?”

  “I don’t know, we just write.”

  “What?” Melanie gaped at her. “It’s like a chick flick, it’s a guy you were best friends with that you’ve been talking to for 13 years-”

  “Writing to-”

  “And you haven’t even seen what he looks like?”

  “He doesn’t have a Facebook.”

  “That’s no excuse.” Melanie said. “What’s the problem?”

  “It just never came up. We just don’t need that.”

  “I see.” Melanie stared at her for a while, and they sat in silence.

  Nicole didn’t blame Melanie, there was a lot to think about, and Nicole suddenly felt stupid and awkward for laying all of this at the feet of her young cousin who really didn’t need to hear about her problems. She knew her aunts already worried about her, and didn’t want Melanie in an awkward spot of knowing something they didn’t and not being able to expose it if questioned. Oh well, if it got exposed, so be it, she’d rather weather that than have Melanie feel awkward or secretive around her parents.

  “I’m sorry to put all of this on you.”

  “It’s fine.” Melanie said, putting her arm around Nicole. “No, I’m actually really glad. You’re always there for me, and I never get to hear your problems. It’s actually a relief that you let someone in like that. It’s actually kind of an honor.”

  “I’m not sure about that. But thanks for listening.”

  “So are you going to hire an escort this week? Can I see one?”

  “Probably not, but I may be going to the club later, if you want to go.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. You just need to be discreet.”

  “Of course!” Melanie rubbed her hands together. “I bet they’re all hot.”

  “I guess that’s kind of the point, but there’s a lot more to them than that.” Nicole said. “They are nice guys, and they’ve already kind of become my friends. So you have to treat them well.”

  “Of course. I’m sure I’ll be too nervous to do anything else.”

  “They have a way of making you feel really comfortable. Well, there’s one kind of awkward one who is really quiet but everyone likes him for it anyway.”

  “What do you mean quiet?”

  “Just not really what you would ever think of for an escort.”

  “How so?”

  “Just kind of, reluctant. Not very flirtatious. Kind of gruff.”

  “Oooh, that sounds hot. I bet he’ll be my favorite.”

  “Get in line. That’s what all the other girls think too.”

  “So who is your favorite?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe Justin.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “Hot. Funny. Blonde.”

  “Of course.” Melanie rolled her eyes back.

  “Hey.”

  “Well I’ll reserve judgment till I meet them all. What is the shy one’s name?”

  “Sean, no, John.”

  “What?”

  “Sorry, whenever I say his name, it sounds so much like Sean, and that’s a name I’ve said a lot, so it just comes out really easily.”

  “Speaking of awkward, do you do that in person?”

  “Yeah, sometimes.” She said. “It confuses people, but luckily, they are being paid to make me feel comfortable.”

  Melanie laughed. “True.”

  They both started at the sound of the front door downstairs. “Well, we better go down and say hi.”

  “Yup.”

  And Nicole thanked Melanie for listening, Melanie brushed it aside with a hug, and they went downstairs together.

  Nicole watched Melanie in the mirror, watched her delicate fingers move the mascara and shadow across
her eye area as if she were painting, wondered how one learned to be so adept at such a thing. Perhaps by watching your mom, which would explain why Nicole had to spend 15 minutes trying to make something look a fraction as good as Melanie did.

  “I hate mascara.” Nicole said, reaching up to try to separate the spider-leg clumps in her lashes. “What is the point of spreading tar all over your eyelashes, directly next to one of the most sensitive parts of your body? Who came up with that?”

  “I don’t know, but I love them.” Melanie said, blinking at the mirror with full, dark lashes. “You’ll get the hang of it.” She stuck the wand in the tube and pulled it out, turning to Nicole. “Would you like me to do yours?”

  “No.” Nicole said, shying away. “I already have too much on.”

  “Not too much, just clumped.”

  “Fine, well, I’m washing off and starting over.”

  “And then I’ll re-do it for you.”

  “Fine.”

  Melanie went to change the song on her Ipod, which played through a small speaker on the bathroom counter.

  Nicole turned on the water, waiting for it to be the right temperature. Too hot hurt and would leave her dry, too cold would shock her skin. She knew better about skin than makeup. When the water reached that perfectly cool place she dipped her hands into the stream, covered her face over and over until when she rubbed at her eyelashes she felt only hair.

  “I didn’t even know you had started wearing makeup.” Melanie said, handing Nicole a face towel.

  “I didn’t.” Nicole said, using it to gently dab away the water. “But I felt really stupid going to a club with gorgeous guys without any. You should see the other girls there. Really done up.”

  “You look great without makeup.”

  “I look better with it. A little anyway.”

  “Who doesn’t.”

  “Plus, it’s like war paint.”

  “What?”

  “It’s like having your game face on. Like you know you are at your best, and when people look at you to judge you, you know you are at least using your physical beauty at its best.”

  “Hm.” Melanie said. “I know what you mean, I think. I hate running into people when my hair and makeup aren’t done. People are so judgy.”

  “Yeah.” Nicole said. “So if I’m going out to be around other humans, which, let’s be honest, isn’t as much as a lot of people, I like to be ready for as little criticism as possible.”

  Melanie was a bit surprised that her tomboy, outspoken cousin was so sensitive to censure. It was a bit like seeing an onion with its brown skin peeled off, and realizing that there’s a very vulnerable inner layer underneath. She’d always envied how little Nicole seemed to care about what anyone thought, but she supposed that perhaps that had just been coping, since Nicole never could seem to be normal. She looked over to where Nicole was rubbing a finger vigorously over some eye shadow that she’d blended badly, muttering about mucky paint, and grinned. Somehow it wasn’t conformity, but a girl having her first chance at girlhood.

  “Nicole, a brush works better for blending.”

  “It does? But my finger is sturdier, and this stuff won’t move.”

  “I know. Let me show you.” Melanie reached in her bag, found a short, dense dome tip brush and brought it up to Nicole’s face. “Look down.”

  Nicole did and Melanie gently applied a little more shadow to each crease, a little more to each lid, and then used the brush to blend the two together in short, fast movements. When she was done she let Nicole turn back to the mirror.

  Nicole looked once then shot closer to the mirror to investigate further. “How did you do that?” She pulled her lid down on one side to study it. “Amazing. It’s like art.”

  “I guess makeup is. That’s what my mom taught me anyway.”

  Nicole frowned. “I wish mine had been around to teach me.”

  Melanie didn’t know what to say, so she rummaged in her bag for mascara that might not bother Nicole as much. Something subtle.

  “You know, it’s totally antifeminist, but I like being pretty.” Nicole said.

  “Can’t fight biology, I guess.” Melanie said.

  “Stop being a psych major.”

  Melanie grinned. “Are you sure? I’ll give you free therapy as my first patient.”

  “No thanks.” Nicole said. “Paying to talk to someone creeps me out. I would never feel like they were actually listening or cared.”

  “Can I put mascara on you? It’ll really complete the look.”

  “But, fine.” Nicole sat on the counter so Melanie had clear access.

  “Look up.”

  Nicole did, and while she did, she remembered the shrink her aunt had taken her to after the move. Once she’d been settled for a few months, and the nightmares didn’t stop, her aunt had taken her to see a nice doctor. But he’d asked things she didn’t know the answers to, and seemed more intent on improving her symptoms than understanding her. How can you make symptoms out of heartache? And how can you tell a 13 year old girl to look into what’s hurting her for the purpose of being cured. She was sure that he meant well, but Nicole didn’t know how you were supposed to cure a disease caused by someone else’s behavior. It was like asking a mouse in a trap to lift the metal squashing his head and get out, so people didn’t have to listen to his squeaks anymore.

  Nicole tried to get away from the emotion, because she was worried her one eye would start crying, and then they’d have to re-do all of her makeup again. Stupid one eye that just wasn’t as brave as the rest of her. The rest of her face would be totally fine, and tears would just fall slowly, like they couldn’t be contained, like there was a leak in the powerful dam of denial.

  “Hold on a minute.” Nicole said, pulling away.

  “Okay.” Melanie said, stepping back so that Nicole could grab toilet paper from the other side of the bathroom, the part with the toilet and a door that locked.

  Nicole shut the door for a second, just because it was easier to get around to the toilet paper, but also sort of because she didn’t want Melanie to see her dab her eye.

  She came out and blew her nose with the tissue to hopefully throw Melanie off. “Sorry, runny nose.”

  “That’s okay.” Melanie said. “Are you alright? Is the mascara bothering you?”

  “No.” Nicole said. Life bothered her. A life she’d never seemed to fit into, a life that hadn’t seemed to want her much. “Sorry.”

  “That’s okay.” Melanie picked up the wand again, and Nicole looked up automatically.

  “Can you look down now? I need to do the bottom lashes.”

  “Oh. Thanks.” Nicole looked down, and Melanie held her upper lashes out of the way. It felt intimate and uncomfortable, like a touch of unwelcome kindness that was just putting more pressure on the leaky dam. Nicole hated touch, it either felt so good it made you afraid, or it felt so bad it made you afraid. She felt itchy, knew that Melanie was her cousin, and a girl, and someone who cared, but still, fingers were fingers, hands were hands.

  Nicole had always felt somewhat like a mirror, someone who reflects back to others more of what they really were inside. She felt she brought out the caring in caring people and darkness in dark people, and so being with someone like Melanie was nice. But Melanie’s kindness, her tenderness, were making her weary, and she found herself wanting to get to the club where she could sink into polite, anonymous banter with the others. And when Melanie left, she couldn’t wait to get back to her bed and be alone with her laptop, to write or to surf the Internet or to think without the feeling that someone was trying to violate you.

  “There.” Melanie said. “Go ahead and see how it looks.”

  Nicole looked. “It looks great. Thanks so much. I need to change, can you wait outside?”

  “Sure.” Melanie said, looking a bit hurt. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  No. Nicole thought. People being nice to me make me afraid of what they want from me. “Yes. I just n
eed a moment.”

  “Okay.” Melanie said, and she went out and closed the door behind her.

  Nicole gripped the sink harder, staring into the mirror in the position she’d bent into to look at her eye makeup, but wasn’t looking at the makeup anymore.

  Instead, she looked at her face. Told herself she deserved friends, deserved love. Went through the routine she always went through when she needed relief. She smiled at the mirror, and the face smiling back at her reminded her that there was at least one person in the world who liked her, who could be with her as well as other people without using them, without confusion. She vowed to spend more time with herself.

  She went to her room, pulled open her drawers, and looked for an outfit. She knew it was weird to ask Melanie to go outside but she didn’t change in front of anyone, girl or no. She knew that girls could easily end up as weird as men did, although they didn’t seem as naturally inclined to be so.

  At times, she had wondered what made her dad like he was. What created a person like that, or what had happened to him to make him like that. Was a person born to hurt others, or hurt until that’s all they knew to do? She knew that at least in her, that impulse had never come to fruition. In fact, she felt it was her experience with pain that made her so loath to inflict it on others. She had a hard time even allowing pain for others, acknowledging that sometimes it was necessary and okay, because for her it had been overwhelming, crushing.

  She pulled on clothing, not caring much what it looked like, and went to open the door for Melanie. Melanie was there waiting, and grabbed Nicole into a hug. Nicole winced, then locked the piece of her up that was screaming, and returned the hug. She tried to soothe Melanie, who looked like she was blaming herself for Nicole’s depressive descent. No. Just talking about makeup. Talking about shrinks. Talking about anything that reminded her of what she hadn’t had, of how she was different.

  And Nicole knew there had to be many like her, many not lucky enough to have an Aunt that would rescue them and a cousin like Melanie. Many that didn’t have her strength. She hoped her books gave them happiness that wasn’t threatening.

  “Are you sure you still want to go out tonight?” Melanie asked, still holding on.

  “Sure.” Nicole pulled back. “I’m a little off tonight, but I can be a little off out at a club as well as I can be a little off here.” She gave Melanie a nudge towards her suitcase so she would get dressed. “Besides, it might make me feel better.”