I yanked and every inch of skin, every hair that I’d ever had in that region rallied together in protest. I screamed bloody murder. The wax pulled an inch, then snapped off in my hand.
Oh Jesus. I waited too long!
I tried to pull the edge up, but the wax was further out of reach now, almost impossible to grab onto without pulling at the glob that now held me like concrete to the bathtub surface.
“Only you would fucking glue yourself to the bathtub! Of course!” I hollered at myself.
I had a sudden bout of inspiration. Maybe, if I could heat the wax it might soften enough to pull myself up from the bathtub. I kicked a foot out toward the faucet, hooking my toes on the handles and turning them. The shift in the pipes reverberated through the bathroom wall, then a deluge of frigid water blasted from the faucet, drawing shriek of abject horror from my lips. I frantically kicked my foot at the faucet to shut it off.
Oh yeah, Faye. That’s right, the hot water in your shower’s broken, remember that?
I growled and tried to reach for the wax again, my lower half now covered in goosebumps and freezing wet. My fingers grazed the edge as the pain shot through my poor hoohah like split second bee stings. I was completely fucked, and I knew it.
I slumped back against the cold bathtub and wiped my watering eyes. Suddenly that crazed waxer didn’t seem so scary.
“Suck it up, woman! Suck it up, or you’re going to be found here by loved ones in a week, half naked and starved to death. Suck it the fuck UP!”
It was do or die. I wrenched my fingers around the rim of the bathtub, closed my eyes tight, and flung myself forward. I then followed this action with a slew of expletives that even I thought truly inspired. I’d felt a shift under me, but couldn’t begin to guess how much I’d freed myself, or if I’d simply managed to flay my tralala in the effort. I reached for the wax between my legs. Though I could only grapple with the very edge, I could reach further than a moment before.
This was joy, this was progress.
This was going to fucking hurt.
At least there was an end in sight - an end that existed on the other side of a football field of hot coals that I apparently had to drag my naked ass across, but in sight nonetheless. I wiped my eyes yet again and braced myself for another tug.
“Fuck your mother cocksucking bitch whore!”
Yeah, something like that.
An inch maybe, a fraction of an inch more likely, but still, progress. I leaned back against the tub, my breath shallow with the effort of constant anxiety. I waited a moment, praying that Dr. Hoar was right and that if I gave myself a minute, I might forget the agony.
The house shook with the force of the front door. I froze, my eyes wide. I listened to the footsteps circle the downstairs. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Faye! Where are you, woman?”
God, if you see fit to give me an aneurysm, please do it now.
I kept silent, listening to Stellan clomp through the house. My bedroom door opened. I held my breath.
“Faye?”
He rapped his knuckles on the bathroom door, his tone urgent and excited.
“Yeah?”
“You decent? I gotta show you -”
The doorknob to my bathroom door twisted, and I must’ve pulled myself another inch of freedom when I jumped in terror.
“Don’t! Don’t fucking open the door!”
The knob stopped. This was my fault. Stellan knew I rarely used my bathroom for more than makeup and hair. Downside of having a defunct facility.
“Shit, sorry. Well, come out then!”
I covered my eyes with both hands. “I can’t.”
“You gotta. You’re gonna lose it!”
“I know -”
Stellan was right outside the door, his voice agitated. “Literally, you’re going to fucking freak out!”
“I know, but -”
“Hurry up woman! I can’t wait to see the look on your face!”
“I can’t, Stellan.”
My tone was far more stern than I’d intended – side effect of having your shebang brutalized. There was silence on the other side of the door.
“But I want you to see -” He stopped and tapped a hand to the door. “Are you alright?”
I sighed. “Yes, I just – I’m just indisposed at the moment. Just go home, and I’ll see you there.”
The hardwood shifted beneath him outside the door. “I thought we were going to go together.”
His voice had descended to this soft and almost childish place of honest disappointment.
I cringed to hear him like that. “I know, I’m so sorry, but I’m completely fucked right now, ok?”
“Do you need help?”
Again the doorknob twisted, this time with purpose. I’d clearly concerned him.
“NO! Don’t open the – I sweartoGODStellanIwillfuckingstabyou!”
Again the doorknob went still.
“Faye, you’re freaking me out here.”
“I know. It’s alright, just – faaaaaahk!” A sudden tug and the response was involuntary.
“Can I do anything?”
“I’m alright,” I said. Then inspiration struck. Perhaps there was help to be found. “Actually, do you think you could - like if you literally just open the door enough to stick your hand through, and nothing else – could you throw me my cell phone?”
He moved outside the door before the door creaked. “Here,” he said, holding it just inside the door. It would do me little good five feet away.
“Just throw it toward the bathtub.”
“The bathtub? Faye, what the hell are you doing in the bathtub? What’s wrong?”
“I’m alright, I’ll be alright. Just throw it, please.”
“It’ll break!”
“I’ll catch it! Just throw it, please!”
He disappeared for a moment, then his arm reappeared, and he tossed a bundle of wrapped up fabric into the bathtub. I exhaled gratefully, unwrapping the red CCCP t-shirt I’d loved so much in high school.
“Thank you! I love you! Now please, just go home, and I’ll see you later. Please? I’m sorry. Please?”
He sighed heavily. “Alright. Cool.”
With that the door closed, and his footsteps shifted outside the door. It was as though I could hear his inner debate through the door. It really was asking a lot of Stellan to expect him to leave when he assumed trauma. Finally, he walked downstairs and out the door. I’d never loved him more than I did at that moment.
“When Karma comes for you, I hope it hurts half as bad as this!” I hollered into the phone when Meghan answered. I relayed my situation to her only to be met with uncontrollable laughter.
“Turn on the hot water, it will loosen the wax.”
“Uh, broken shower? Thought of that.”
The laughter returned. I cursed her, her name, and the day she was born; she just kept laughing. Finally, she offered to come over. I turned her down outright.
“Yeah, I already had Stellan bangin down my door a minute ago, I’m all set.”
“Well, what do you want me to do then?” Meghan asked, breathless.
“Honestly? Suffer like Christ!”
She laughed again, and I explained that as punishment I felt she should be required to listen to my suffering. She agreed to the task.
It took six more outbursts of cursing God before I was detached, then another three minutes of tearing and pulling to get the last chunks of now brittle wax from my region. When I was done, I’d never felt more relieved in my life.
No, I rephrase - I’d never been more thankful to be alive and free to wear pants, in my life.
I ran my hand down across the mound of what I’d once thought of as a sensitive and delicate region. No blood, no torn ligaments or bruises, just baby smooth skin.
Well, on one side. The other side was still a jungle.
“I’ve managed to give myself a
crotch Mohawk.”
The piercing cackle carried through the phone for a moment or two.
CHAPTER Twelve
“I’m not strutting through downtown Concord in these heels, honey,” Meghan said, pointing out the pencil thin spike that protruded from the bottom of her boots.
Why Meghan? Why do you always have to make everyone else look like hobos? Seriously.
I was wearing several layers of the puffiest clothing I’d been able to procure from all three remaining clothes closets in the house. My mother’s offered little more than some older vintage pieces I might’ve tried were I going as a member of the Scooby-Doo gang, but I was not. I was going as an 80’s icon, and as you’ve been informed, the 80’s are in my DNA. Dishonoring their memory would be a cardinal sin.
My lace gloves were pulled to the elbow, the fingers cut off, my skirts were layered and lace trimmed, pink over black over white. I’d teased my newly rust colored hair out to the moon on one side of my head, leaving the other side combed flat. My lipstick was bright red, my eyeliner as thick as I could smear it, and my bracelets so innumerous that I felt like I was doing bicep curls if I deigned to pick anything up. The final touch felt a little inaccurate, but I had little choice as we were coming down to the wire. My high tops had seen better days, and they fell apart when I tried to put them on. Instead, I’d torn the ever living shit out of a perfectly good pair of black stockings and put on my mother’s ancient black cowboy boots. Her feet were at least a size bigger than mine, but I made due with a couple pairs of socks. My feet were still slipping around inside the boots with every step. Ah, what a woman will do for era specific fashion statements.
Meghan gave me another once over. “You look spectacular, lady.”
I was almost startled by the compliment. My expression must have betrayed this because Meghan planted her hands on her curvaceous hips. “You have a problem with that?”
“No? Just never really thought of Cyndi Lauper as spectacular.”
“Well, whether she was or not, you look fucking fantastic. Seriously, your tits look amazing in that top.”
I glanced down self-consciously. The top she spoke of was a collection of lingerie, tank tops, and brassieres, and she was right, there was some serious chest chasm going on. If anyone lost their keys tonight, I knew where to look.
“Is he coming?”
She was talking about Stellan. “I think so? We were supposed to go together, but as you know -”
It was the second shortest drive to a friend’s house I’d ever known – the first being Stellan’s.
Evan’s road was certainly the hardest to climb to, being on the most prestigious hill in downtown. Nashawtuc was one of those roads you brought family members to when they were in town to ogle how the other half live. The houses were each grander than the next, their driveways leading to multiple car garages and million dollar views of the often flooded fields below. Meghan and I decided not to arrive too early, given her love of fashionable arrival. I was more concerned about arriving without Stellan, my buffer. I wasn’t entirely weened into the world yet, and the thought of being alone in the house with past peers, or worse, Evan…
I wasn’t sure why that thought bothered me.
I checked my phone again. Still no word from Stellan.
Concerned, slightly whiny Me - Are you alive? Where are you?
I was beginning to worry. The worst possible outcome here would be for him to not to come at all.
We drove by the mansions, their lit windows looked like the glowing eyes of prosperity on an otherwise dark hillside. Every once in a while, I would catch a glimpse of someone inside, of some pampered child sitting at an Ethan Allen dining room table, his note papers and text books sprawled out before him, or a woman reading on some leather couch. It was almost surreal to see the children of the filthy rich sitting to such mundane tasks as homework or reading. Still, I’d once known one of those kids. Despite the luxurious façade of his life, I knew better. Sometimes inside these houses, there’s very little comfort to be had.
The cul-de-sac known as Willith Common was already filled with parked cars on either side of the road. The party was set to begin at eight, and we were pulling in the around nine. Meghan chattered away. I’d been drowning her out with my thoughts when she suddenly mentioned Evan.
“Now you’re going to introduce me, right?”
I shrugged. “Sure, if you want.”
“Of course I want. And if you feel like dropping the info that I give phenomenal blow jobs -”
I smiled. “We both know you hate giving -”
“Shut up. I was mostly kidding anyway.”
I smirked. “Only mostly though.”
“Exactly.”
We parked a dozen or so car lengths away from the house, walking down the road to the house. It was a mountain of white walls and brick, three garage doors, two of them housing a car worth more than my mother’s house (I knew this from my youth, not from a sudden case of X-ray vision, mind you). Meghan was practically shrill as she regaled me with awe. I accused her of wanting to make out with the landscaping, and she quieted down.
There were small lanterns lining the brick path to the side of the house. I knew exactly which entrance we were being led to. Evan’s father had built a large sun room onto the back of the house years ago – a monstrous glass room with granite tile floor and leather furniture where he could smoke cigars and remove himself from the family that resided within. Sadly, his intentions to utilize the space were quickly forgotten. When Evan was a teenager, he’d taken over the room, leaving the back door open to friends at all hours of the night.
When Meghan and I rounded the side of the house, the backyard was alight with hundreds of lanterns hanging from trees and lampposts. The sun room door was, as always, wide open. Meghan gasped at the wonderland of his lamp lit backyard that stretched a hundred yards down the slope of the hill. I was too busy scanning the figures through the glass walls of the sun room. I didn’t immediately recognize anyone.
I took a deep breath.
The familiar smell of the house was soft beneath the smell of beer and lemon wedges. Still, as I entered the living room, the smell of eucalyptus, something Evan’s mother always kept hanging in sconces on the walls, hit me. I felt strangely nostalgic. Again, it was short lived.
“Hey, who are you?”
A tall tawny haired fellow asked over the sound of The Pixies playing through the nearby stereo speakers. His eyes passed over my chest before settling on Meghan’s. Though mine might be well displayed, Meghan’s was fucking mighty. She smiled wide and introduced us. I didn’t return the interest. There were two faces I was searching for – Stellan, and with some trepidation, Evan. The tall fellow offered us his name – Will – and beers. I accepted the plastic cup politely, despite having no intention of drinking it. I was almost startled by the frat party feel of the plastic cup in my hand. I wondered if I might find a rousing game of beer pong if I were to search further into the house. I didn’t dare do so without company and by that time, Meghan was fully ensconced in her conversation with Will – how did he know Evan, how charming his costume was; a T-shirt with the word Costume written across the chest. I rolled my eyes and took a sip of the beer in my hand. It was sharp and bitter to me, unpalatable, but still it was all I had.
The black leather couches of the living room were as I remembered them, though I was sure they’d been replaced with newer versions. The stone slab fireplace seemed smaller now, a sign of either my having grown, or it simply being surrounded by Lady Gagas and Darth Vadars. Every car parked outside must’ve carried its maximum capacity. I scanned the werewolves and zombies, the blood covered doctor, his candy striping side kick. I didn’t recognize anyone – no old high school friends to hide from. I took my leave of Meghan with the desire for an easier drink. I knew my way around the house.
I wandered into the kitchen to the stainless steel double refrigerator, raising an eyebrow at
the array of women dressed in various levels of scanty. Evan’s single status was well known. I felt almost ashamed at the presence of my own cleavage.
I loved Evan, to clarify, but we lost touch when my life became marketing and he left for the west. Stellan kept in touch, but I think some part of me assumed Evan and I wouldn’t have anything in common anymore. Describing my life would sound the same now as it did in my senior year of high school. I can’t imagine that would be of interest to a man who spends his time with Victoria’s Secret models on his own island.
I hauled the heavy fridge door open and stared into the recesses of the beast - lines of soda cans, bottled water, condiments, and booze; just as I remembered. I grabbed a water and took a long breathless drink. When I closed the door to the refrigerator, the devil was standing beside me.
“Hey sweet thang.”
I nearly dropped the water on the floor. The devil’s red suit was tailored perfectly to his slight frame, the small prosthetic horns peeking out from under the dark hair of his still strong hair line. I hacked as quietly as I could, the remnants of aspirated water still tickling my throat. Evan caressed my back the way a parent would to a coughing child, and I desperately tried to catch my breath. When I was finally able to meet his gaze, my eyes were running mascara down my cheeks, and he was beaming at me.
“Dick,” I said.
He just smiled wider. “Glad you could make it, Cyndi.”
Evan held his arms open before me. I faltered only a second and accepted the embrace. It felt warm.
“Hey there, Ev,” I said over his shoulder. The hug lasted a while, both of us clasping our wrists behind the other and breathing deeply. He rubbed my back again, and hummed softly before kissing my cheek a couple times as he released me. I could feel female eyes on us with varying degrees of curiosity and outright rage. The Holy Grail seemed to like me. This fact did not bode well with the scantily clad masses, especially when he informed me that my tits looked spectacular.
Catch My Fall Page 18