by J. M. Paul
Taking photos was no doubt my favorite aspect of being a photographer, but I missed the editing and, when suitable, developing processes. Not all pictures were developed nowadays—actually, very few were—but it was still an art and a part of the overall practice.
Even without going through each picture with a fine-tooth comb, I knew I had hundreds of great shots, and more than several would be print-worthy. When I graduated, got a job, and had a house of my own, I planned to cover every wall with my work. It was something I’d wanted since I was a kid, and as much as I deserved all the bad that had happened in my life, it was the one good thing I wanted to make sure happened for me.
My parents had known about my dream and had wanted it just as desperately for me. And, if nothing else, I would work my hardest to make them proud of even the smallest, simplest aspect of my life. Lord only knew, I had already done so much to earn their disappointment.
The van slowed as Bax maneuvered it onto an exit off the expressway.
Bax had been driving for the last two hours since he switched off with Milo. The guys had been doing all the driving since we left the microburst location. Carly and I were injured and supposed to be resting. Also, we’d been taking eight hundred milligrams of ibuprofen, which could cause drowsiness, so Bax and Milo wouldn’t let us drive.
The four of us hadn’t gotten much rest in almost forty-eight hours. We were playing with fire, traveling when we were exhausted, but we wanted to get to the next destination and recoup there.
“We made good time in getting up here since there was little traffic.” Bax flipped the turn signal on and turned right onto a road lined with restaurants, stores, and the like. “But that means we can’t check into the campsite for another couple of hours.” He yawned and scratched the stubble growing on his chin. “I figured we could stop to grab a bite and get some much-needed caffeine. Then, we can stop by a store to pick up a few items since we all pretty much lost all of our clothing.”
“Sounds good to me, chico.” Milo yawned in response to Bax’s yawn, which made me and Carly follow suit.
“Libby, Carly, sound good?” Bax glanced back at the two of us in the rearview mirror and then trained his eyes back on the road.
“Sounds great.” I started to pack up my laptop for safekeeping.
“Mmm…I think I could eat an entire McPiggy right now. Bring on some bacon.” Carly patted and rubbed her flat stomach.
Bax pulled into a mom-and-pop restaurant, and we all piled out of the van. Once we entered, we were seated in a booth. It smelled like a small slice of heaven in here. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I got a whiff of the delicious scents wafting in the air. I thought the aroma was in direct conversation with my stomach because it growled, loud and proud.
“Good thing we stopped to eat. This chica’s stomach is cussing out this entire restaurant.” Milo went to pat my shoulder but stopped himself.
He was finally starting to remember that I didn’t like to be touched.
I tried to glare at him, but my lips tipped up into a grin. He was right; my stomach wasn’t happy, and it was letting everyone know that it needed to order and fast.
“Hiya, guys. What can I getcha to drink?” the plump redheaded waitress asked.
“Coffee,” Bax, Milo, and Carly all answered in unison. Then, they laughed.
“All righty then. Coffee for you, miss?” The lady regarded me.
“I’ll have a Coke, please.”
“We’ve got Pepsi. That okay?”
“Even better.” I nodded once.
We studied our menus, all of us yawning nonstop.
When the waitress stopped to deliver our drinks, we ordered and then downed our first round of caffeine in record time. Mag—I’d read our waitress’s name tag—refilled our drinks twice before our food arrived.
“If there’s one around here, can we shop at a Target?” Carly stuffed an entire piece of bacon into her mouth. When she finished chewing most of it, she continued, “They have cuter clothes, and I have a credit card there.”
“Oh, I love Target.” I took a bite of my Farmer’s Omelet. The cheese mixed with eggs, ham, and onions tasted delicious. For some reason, it seemed like days since we had last eaten.
Bax pulled out his cell phone and tapped on the screen a couple of times. “There’s a Target about forty minutes north of here in Bryant.” He looked up at us before he took another bite of his omelet. “Are you guys up for another short drive?”
“For clean clothes? Hell yeah.” Milo nodded vigorously and shoved the last bite of his French toast into his mouth.
We finished our meals, drank another round of caffeine, paid our bill, hit the restrooms, and then got back on the road.
In no time, we were walking into Target in search of items to replace what we had lost in the storm.
Milo was pushing Carly in a Target-supplied wheelchair since she could barely walk with her sprained ankle, and Bax and I slowly trailed behind.
When we came up to the women’s clothing department, Carly pointed at a pretty summer dress. “Oh! I have to have that.”
“I’ll take it from here, gents.” I walked up to Milo and took over control of the wheelchair.
“Um, I don’t know.” Milo looked at Carly, unsure of if he should leave her.
It really was adorable to watch him with her since she’d hurt herself.
“I’ll be fine, Milo. It’s a little bit of shopping. You and Bax go find your big-boy clothes, and we’ll meet up in a little while.” Carly waved Milo and Bax off.
Before they turned to leave, Carly said to them, “Remember, we’re girls, and we enjoy shopping. So, after you blindly pick out your threads, go amuse yourselves in the electronics or the toy aisles. It’ll take us some time to find the right outfits.”
The guys rolled their eyes.
I said, “Not me.”
Carly gave me a look. “This time, it will. We’re getting you out of those godforsaken black cargo pants, black T-shirts, and black hoodies. You look like death walking. And don’t even get me started on that hair or Satan makeup.”
“This isn’t Satan makeup, Carly.” I rolled my eyes.
“Carly has a point,” Milo said.
I scrunched my nose at him and then swung my attention to Bax, waiting.
“It would be nice to see you in some color.” Bax shrugged.
I stifled the anger starting to swirl in my stomach, but then I wasn’t sure why I was upset. I purposely dressed in dark clothing and makeup to appear unattractive and unapproachable. If I possibly frightened the public with my dark exterior, then they would hopefully leave me alone. And, if I wasn’t bothered, I was more than likely not going to get hurt.
“Whatever. Let’s hurry, so we can set up camp and get some sleep.” I brushed the guys off and rolled Carly toward the sundress she had been ogling.
She pulled the pretty yellow sundress with flowers off the rack and held it up to her body. She nodded and dropped it in her lap in the wheelchair. Then, she reached for a deep purple dress and threw it at me.
“No,” I immediately rejected.
“Yes. You’ll try it on, and you’ll like it. It’s a deep purple, which is practically black.” When she saw my face, she shook her head. “At least I didn’t give you this pretty pink one I thought would complement your skin tone.”
She gestured toward a dress I found pretty but wouldn’t be caught dead wearing. At least, this version of me wouldn’t wear it. Another version of me—the innocent me I used to be—probably would have loved the garment.
Carly exhaled loudly and turned the wheelchair, so she could face me. “Listen, Libby, I know you’ve been through some shit.”
My eyes blinked several times in shock, and my arms fell to my sides, still holding the dress. I’ve been that obvious to everyone? I thought only Bax had caught on.
“And I’m sure you have a good reason for being who you are and wearing what you wear, but, sweetie, it’s just us.” Carly
brushed her long blonde hair behind her shoulder. “I can see, in your gorgeous blue eyes, this dark persona you put out isn’t the real you. You’re wearing it to disguise who you are to more than likely protect yourself from whatever you feel threatens you. No one on this trip will hurt you, Libby. Milo’s on his way to being deep in lust with me.” She gave me a wicked grin. “Bax is an awesome guy—like, one of the best—and he likes you. So, stop the charade, and for the rest of the trip, just be you, whoever that is or whoever you want it to be. No one here will cause you harm, and we’ll kick anyone’s ass who tries, okay?”
Wow. I didn’t know I was so transparent. And, if this group can so quickly see through my facade, who else has? Possibly everyone? Maybe that was why my disguise seemed not to work. As much attention as I didn’t want to attract, it would seek me out anyway—Joel, the guys at Six Flags in New Orleans, and countless other instances. What if, by wearing black and trying to make myself look like a recluse, it clues everyone in to how shattered I am on the inside, and that’s why turmoil always seems to find me?
Trouble could find anyone, but the broken were already damaged, and in a perpetrator’s mind, maybe that made for easier prey. We already hated ourselves and struggled to find a reason to fight against our internal demons, so maybe they figured we wouldn’t fight against them, that we didn’t think we were worth it.
The offenders were right in their assumption of the broken having many weaknesses. But maybe it was time to fight, and I could start the war by learning to be myself again—whoever that might be.
“Okay?” Carly asked again, bringing me back to the clothing section in Target.
“Take the leap, Peanut. Build your wings, and then learn how to fly.” My mom’s voice sounded in my head.
“Okay.” I nodded shyly. I lifted the purple dress Carly had handed me against my body.
Carly released a happy squeal and then clapped her hands. “Yes! Oh, this is going to be so much fun!” She blew me a kiss, turned the wheelchair, and headed off between racks of clothes. “Come on, Libby. We’ve got lots of work to do!” she yelled somewhere in between a rack of maxi skirts and short shorts that should be illegal in almost every state.
I was doomed.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but I eventually walked out of the fitting room with an armful of chick clothes in an array of colors Carly insisted I had to purchase.
This Target trip would cost me a fortune.
Now, Carly had me in beauty products, but I was about to draw the line. A girl could only take so much change in such a short amount of time. I still needed to recognize a portion of myself when I looked in the mirror.
“Carly, I gave you free rein over my clothes, but that’s it. No more.” I backed away from her handfuls of pink lipsticks and eye shadows, and I started heading toward hair-care products. I hadn’t dyed my hair in a couple of weeks, and my blonde roots were showing.
Carly set the makeup on a nearby shelf and wheeled after me.
“Are you just going to leave them there?” I pointed at the pile of makeup she had mindlessly abandoned.
“Eh”—she shrugged—“it’s job security for someone, right?”
I shook my head at her because, if I opened my mouth, I wouldn’t say anything nice.
I found the aisle with hair color and turned down it. Perusing the colors, I reached out to grab two boxes of my normal jet-black color. I had thick hair.
Carly smacked my hand, and the boxes went flying, almost hitting an older lady standing a little ways down from us, before bouncing against the tiled floor.
“Sorry,” I apologized to the woman. Then, I turned toward Carly. “What the heck are you doing?” I barked, letting my irritation be known.
“I’ll give you your devil makeup, but, Lib? This hair color has got to go.” She reached up and lifted a chunk. Then, she released the strands, as if they had burned her. “Your natural color is gorgeous. Why on earth would you ever cover it up?”
Because blondes are whores and deserve whatever’s given to them.
When I didn’t answer, Carly continued, “Let me color your hair. I did it all through high school for my girlfriends, and I still color my best friend’s hair and my roommates’ on the regular. If I wasn’t so passionate about photography and really good at it to boot, I would be a hairstylist because, let’s face it, they rock.”
“You’re not coloring my hair.”
“Come on. I won’t go drastic this time, but the black needs to go bye-bye. It does nothing for your skin tone or complexion. You look like a freak—and not in a good way. Some people can pull off freaky and make it look hot but not you.” She pushed me forward and then wheeled around me to lead me out of the aisle and toward the shampoos.
I guess I’m not coloring my hair today.
“Okay.” Carly placed her pointer finger on her nose and searched the overwhelming choices of shampoos and conditioners. “Aha! Get this.” She grabbed two pink bottles and handed them to me. “Now, let’s grab everything else and then sweet-talk the boys into taking us to the beauty supply store I saw on our way here. They’ll have better products to lift that dreadful color without frying your hair.”
I pulled a face, and she smacked my thigh.
“Trust me. You’ll look smokin’, and later, you can apologize to me for you putting up a stink.”
“There you are, tia buena.” Milo swung Carly’s wheelchair around to face him. “How’d you fare? Is your ankle hurting?”
Bax turned the corner with a semi full cart and stopped when he saw us. He eyed the two bottles in my hands, then Carly’s empty lap, and then swung his gaze back to mine.
“Didn’t you guys find some clothes?” Bax’s brows scrunched together.
“Oh, yeah, we found plenty. Just wait and see,” Carly said in a singsong voice as she winked at me.
I shook my head. “We left our cart down another aisle. You guys ready?”
“Yep, we were just looking for you two hot mamas.” Milo stepped behind Carly’s wheelchair to push her.
We found our cart, chose a checkout line, and paid for our items.
Carly used her stellar flirting tactics and talked the boys into stopping at the beauty supply store. Even though she was injured, she made quick work of picking out the items she thought she would need. I paid, and then we were back in the van, headed toward the campground.
I couldn’t wait to take a long, hot shower, to brush my teeth two or three times, and then sleep for about a thousand years.
After we checked in at the campground and set up the site, I got to brush my teeth, and then I started to enter the shower stall.
“Not so fast, girlie.” Carly hobbled in front of me and lifted the boxes of hair color. “This is happening—and now. So, sit your cute little butt on the counter, and let me work my magic.”
“Carly, I’m beat. I just want to take a shower and then crash for about a month.” I yawned and scratched my head. It felt like I had half of Arkansas’s mud caked in my hair and on my body because we hadn’t had the time or means to bathe since the storm.
She patted the countertop, opened the dye, and started to mix the contents. “Sit your ass down. It won’t take too long.”
I wasn’t only wiped out, but I was frightened of what she planned to do to my head. When I started to reject her again, she gave me a stern glare.
“The longer you argue, the longer it’ll take until we can shower and then pass out. So, sit your bony rear down, or I’ll make you.” Carly’s forehead crinkled.
My shoulders drooped, and my head hung slightly as I boosted myself up onto the counter next to the sinks.
“Good girl.” Carly patted my cheek and then started running her fingers through my dirty hair, trying to smooth the tangles.
“Sorry. You wouldn’t let me shower,” I apologized for the nastiness sitting atop my head.
“No worries. We’re just going to make it dirtier.” Carly dug through a bag I hadn’t realized
was on the counter next to me and set several items by my thigh. She ran a brush through my long dark strands. “This will be step one of many. I won’t be able to lift the black dye in one sitting without completely frying your hair. I’ll keep repeating the process every couple of days until we achieve the color we want. Okay?” She shifted, so she caught my gaze.
“Yeah, sure.” I shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal, but I was freaking out on the inside.
My black hair had become a part of my identity over the last several years. It was a part of the cloak I wore, my disguise against the world to make myself invisible. Without my security blanket, I was uncertain how I would feel and be treated.
Carly gave me a knowing expression and sighed as she put clear rubber gloves on her hands. She squeezed a dye onto my head and started to work it into my hair from the roots to the tips.
“You’re absolutely gorgeous, Libby, and this black hair does nothing to distract from that. If anything, the recluse facade you cast only draws more attention.”
“What do you mean?” I scrunched my brows together.
In my experience, society gave anyone goth-looking a wide berth. It was like they thought we would reach out to bite them.
“Well”—she cleared her throat—“you’re viewed as freaky in normal social standards, and that lures curiosity.” Carly gave me an apologetic smile to cushion the harshness of her truthful words. “And people tend to study and stare at anything they deem abnormal. It’s human nature. So, instead of hiding yourself and fading into the background, you’ve transformed yourself into a science experiment that people can’t take their eyes off of. They’re waiting for you to react badly, explode, or combust.”
“That’s ridiculous.” I rolled my eyes, but her words sank deep in my chest. They started to build into something overflowing.
Maybe she’s right. What if I’ve been attracting more attention instead of deflecting it?
“Look,” she said as she popped her hip out, “we normal folk read into dark personas like the latest smutty novel to hit bookshelves. We know we shouldn’t devour it, but the cover attracts attention, and you know whatever’s hidden within the pages is full of drama. And, let’s face it, everyone loves a good scandal.”