Chapter 4
“Porter, please take me to my room,” Karen said. Porter gave her a concerned look, but did as he had been instructed. “Lock the door on your way out.”
“But – but what . . .” he stammered through the gap in the doorway.
“Porter, please just lock the door,” she pleaded. Soon she heard him turn the lock and shut the door.
She waited until she heard Porter playing video games and knew that she wouldn’t be disturbed. She grabbed the long blond wig off the Styrofoam manikin and pulled the nylon mesh cap down on her head. The wig made her scalp itch, so she only wore it for short intervals. She held the mirror as she adjusted the wig so that it was properly centered, and then she pushed and pulled on the bangs until they met her approval. Reaching behind her collection of stuffed animals, she retrieved the well-hidden trinket box where she kept all her prized possessions. She pulled out the brown eyebrow pencil that her mother had given her. After licking the tip of the pencil, she drew eyebrows where previously there had been none. She very carefully aligned the brows and then smiled in satisfaction. Then she held the package of lashes up to read the instructions. The lashes along with the romance books had been a gift from Aunt Marge who had seemed to understand Karen’s curiosity. Her mother had said she was afraid that Karen would get glue in her eyes. Then her mother had thrown the lashes away. But Karen had retrieved them and hidden them in her secret container. She traced a ribbon of glue on the edge of the long black lashes, and then set them very carefully in place. Batting her eyes, she felt the wisp of the lashes against her face.
Loose facial powder covered the bottom of the box, but there was still enough powder left in the compact for today. Karen rubbed the sponge around the edges of the container, absorbing as much of the powder as possible; then she patted it on her face and around her eyes. The lipstick rolled out of the box and onto the pink shag rug. She struggled, trying to reach for it, but the tube was beyond her grasp. She stretched her foot forward, clutching the tube with her tip of her house shoe, and then rolled it within reach. She leaned over and picked it up. All the bending and stretching provoked a bout of coughing leaving Karen teary eyed and gasping for breath. She told herself, “slow your breathing down,” as the nurses had so often instructed her, and “take a deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth.” Karen caught her breath, dabbed at the wet lashes and wiped her nose. She twisted the bottom of the lipstick tube, outlined her lips, and then filled them in with the Passion Pink lip color. She smiled as she admired her reflection in the mirror.
“Karen,” Porter called at the door.
She scrambled to return the make-up to its hiding place. “You can’t come in, I’m busy,” she answered.
“What – what – are you doing?”
“Porter, just leave me alone,” she answered. He stood outside the door for a moment and then she heard him walk away.
Karen held the mirror up and admired the radiant glow of the suntan facial powder which covered her pale skin. But, her cheeks were too pale, she thought. So, she pinched them to add a rosy blush.
She smiled, and held the mirror close as she examined her teeth for lipstick smudges.
She felt under her mattress and found the teen magazine that she had taken from the hospital. Her mother had said, “It isn’t good to think about those things right now.” But Karen wanted to think about what other kids were doing and what kind of clothes they wore. The pages were fanned out from frequent turning and several pages had their corners turned down.
The red leather Gucci boots and matching bag had been circled with a red marker. She ran her fingers over them and closed her eyes, imagining herself in front of the school lockers surrounded by a group of adoring fans telling her how much they loved her boots and asking her where she got them. “Oh, these old things?” she said. “They were in the back of my closet.” They talked about her, as she walked away. “She’s the coolest girl in the school, and the prettiest.” She gloated. Karen turned to the advertisement of the latest fragrance and scratched at the perfume swatch. Lifting it to her nose, she inhaled deeply. The wheezing had returned, making a funny musical sound when she inhaled, but she couldn’t worry about that now. She rubbed the page vigorously with her finger then dabbed the fragrance behind her ears.
Porter knocked on the door, “Are – are – you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m alright. Why don’t you do your homework and leave me alone?” she yelled. She immediately felt guilty for raising her voice. “Porter, I’m sorry, but I just want to be alone right now.” He mumbled something. Then she heard the sounds of the artillery fire from his favorite video game. She turned the page and found the girl with the impossibly long legs wearing American Eagle jeans. The tall redhead was surrounded by boys who were obviously smitten by her beauty. The girl completely ignored the boys, as she talked on her cell phone. Clearly she was used to boys chasing her. Karen lifted up the mirror and compared herself to the beautiful redhead. Then she retrieved the tube of lipstick and applied a second coat.
Karen thumbed through the magazine to find the article: “How to Know if He Really Likes You.” She had memorized the top ten give away clues; “He looks directly in your eyes,” she read aloud. “He prefers your company to his friends,” she grinned. Closing her eyes, she thought about Trevor Saborn who had been the most popular boy in her class. She imagined him looking directly in her eyes and asking for her phone number. She twirled her finger in her hair. “I’ll think about it Trevor, but I’m really very busy.” She giggled as she returned the magazine to its hiding place. She coughed several times, revealing pink-tinged frothy sputum on her tissue. I must rest, she told herself. She sat quietly and breathed deeply until she caught her breath.
Which necklace should I wear? She carefully eyed the contents of the jewelry box, which was filled with Aunt Marge’s old jewelry. Karen had worn every piece albeit in the privacy of her room. Just beyond the strand of colored beads was the pearl necklace and matching earrings. She felt for the smooth pearls and then picked them up and examined their luster in the light. Then she placed a ring on each of her fingers. She opened the hot pink nail polish her father had mailed to her. Holding the bottle between her knees, she painted her fingernails then waved her hands in the air, so they would dry faster. She held them up to see the glitter polish sparkle in the light. She coughed.
Enough, she thought. It would have to be enough. Hot tears beaded upon her lashes. Although she wanted to experience as much of this life as she could, she was growing too tired. I should’ve listened to Mom; it is too painful to think about these things. “Please God, help me,” she whispered.
The portable CD player was within easy reach and contained her favorite CD. She pressed play. She had committed the words to memory but was too short of breath to sing along. She struggled for a long, deep breath, but it was becoming more difficult. Karen felt exhausted. Even her make-up and wig felt heavy. She felt as if she was breathing through a straw, not being able to get enough oxygen to sustain her. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
Porter knocked on the door. “Karen, Karen,” he called, but she didn’t answer. Porter began to bang on the door.
A Dove for Eddy Page 4