Different Kind of Beauty Page 2

  “Don’t you think we have to take the chance?”

  Only I have to take the chance, I thought, but I nodded.

  Before the final surgery, I prayed and prayed for a permanent solution. I just knew I couldn’t take any more operations. And when the doctor removed the bandages in the recovery room, it was a miracle. I could see my fingernails, the hair on the back of my hand— more detail than I’d seen in months.

  He rewrapped the bandages around my head. “Keep absolutely still. We don’t want any complications.” I lay there the whole day, hardly daring to breath, let alone move a muscle.

  That night I got my prayer answered. When the doctor removed the bandages a second time, my world had been swallowed up by darkness. I could see no more. My second retina had detached. I had my permanent solution.

  CHAPTER 2

  Elizabeth and Beauty

  Disasters

  “Don’t make a fuss, Mother, really. It was the stupidest of accidents,” Debra said as she brushed Mom’s hand away from her bruised cheek. “Imagine. I was bending over to put on my boots and just at that precise moment, Rolph came home.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Boof! The doorknob hit my cheek. It didn’t hurt nearly as badly as it looks.”

  “He should be more careful when he opens the door,” Dad grumbled.

  “Oh, definitely. Rolph feels awful about it. He can’t stop apologizing.” Debra smiled brightly as she inhaled the scent of her flowers and changed the subject. “I love carnations, Mom. Thank you.”

  Does Debra even bend over to put her boots on? I wondered. At our house she sat on a chair in the living room. Mom complained about that a lot. I stared at Deb’s bruise again and winced. He better not have hit her, I thought.

  Beauty’s tail slapped my leg. “Good girl. Don’t worry.” I stooped down a little to pat her. “We’re leaving now.”

  Dad grabbed Debra’s luggage cart, which was piled high with suitcases, duffel bags and a huge portfolio case. “You sure packed enough for two weeks.” Dad sounded gruff but his smile widened as he pushed the cart into the elevator.

  “Did you buy a lot of cool stuff on Rodeo Drive?” I asked as we all squeezed in around the cart. The elevator lurched down.

  “Not for me, I didn’t. Too bourgeois.” She touched my nose with her finger. “But I did find an outfit for you, little sister.” I remembered how I used to hate when she called me that or treated me that way. Now I wanted to soak it all in. I’d missed Debra so much.

  It took an hour to get home in the heavy traffic and the moment our van pulled in the driveway, I leapt out with Beauty. All that waiting had made me tense and I needed to move around, just like the dog. So I ran around the yard, with Beauty barking and chasing at my heels. It felt great, like a celebration that Debra was home.

  “Can you help with the bags first, Elizabeth?” Dad called. He did look pretty weighed down so we ran back to the car.

  I hung Deb’s carry-on around Beauty’s neck and reached for her portfolio, only Debra insisted on carrying that herself. So I took a duffel bag in each hand and raced Beauty into the house and up the stairs to Deb’s room.

  “Maybe Deb needs to lie down and rest first. Or maybe she’d like some privacy to unpack,” Mom called up after us.

  “That’s perfectly all right,” she told Mom.

  I took the bag off Beauty and we both jumped onto her bed, sprawled over it, waiting. Waiting for all the answers Debra could give me.

  “Goodness,” Debra said as she stepped into the room. “I’d almost forgotten what it was like to live in the animal kingdom.” She sank down beside Beauty, stroking her glossy brown head. “Hello, beautiful doggie.” We sat together like that for a while, with only the sound of Beauty lapping at Debra’s hands. My dog, my sister and me. For a moment I forgot all my questions.

  Then Debra unzipped her portfolio.

  “Wow, what’s that?” I asked.

  “Camel on a Surfboard. You know, the sequel to the first book I illustrated.” She frowned as she placed the picture on her drawing desk. “Except there’s something not right about it.”

  Hmm. This camel did look a little off. “Maybe the eyes…no, the mouth…the face.”

  “The legs, the body, I know…I just can’t capture that same playful mood I had in Camel on a Skateboard.” Debra tilted her head to see another angle and I noticed all the broken red veins in her bruised eye.

  “Maybe you should relax and unwind before you think about fixing up a painting,” I told her.

  She pursed her mouth and squinted. “Mmm.” Then she spun around and forced a smile. “Probably I should show you your present,” she said.

  Beauty wagged and seemed excited. Always the fashion-conscious Lab.

  Debra unlocked her large suitcase and scooped out a beautiful gray bag with the fuchsia letters Rodeo across it. “Here.” She handed it to me.

  I quickly pulled out a crisp cherry-colored sundress with tiny spaghetti straps. “Oh, gosh, it’s beautiful. Do you think I could wear it my first day to high school? I’m so nervous. I just want everything to go perfectly.”

  “Sure. Take off your T-shirt and slip it on over.” She helped me pull my top over my head and held the dress above me as I shrugged into it.

  “Now look in the mirror.” Debra pushed my shoulders so that I faced the mirror hanging from her door.

  I liked how the cherry color refused to back down from the orangy color of my hair. I also liked the idea that the dress was just a little unusual for me. If I should bump into Scott, he would have to take notice of me.

  “Debra, do you think there’s only one person in the whole world who we’re destined to be with? You know, like Dad and Mom, or”—I forced myself to add—“like you and Rolph?” I wanted to talk to her about how my best friend Alicia could just “fall in like” with so many different guys and how I just kept wanting Scott back. And how humiliating that felt, when he was so over me.

  Debra turned and stared at her painting again, smile dissolving.

  “Deb?” I called her gently.

  “I’m not really up to leading the lonely hearts club, Liz.” She spun around to face me. “No one else knows this yet, but I’ve left Rolph.” Her words snapped at me like something brittle cracking in half. Then she blew out a big sigh.

  I wanted to be happy. I had my sister back all to myself. Only she looked so sad. I reached to her, but she pulled away, and I saw a tear slide down her cheek.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to be alone now.”

  My stomach clenched into a tight fist. I looked at that bruise—he couldn’t have done that, could he? Maybe she was better off without him. I knew I would be.

  I swallowed hard before talking. “OK,” I finally said.

  “Thanks for the dress. C’mon, Beauty.”

  I needed to get out of there—to smash something, to run hard, to scream. It was the only way I could lose the tight feeling inside. Or maybe there was one other way. I stopped halfway down the hall.

  “Beauty, do you want to go Rollerblading?” I asked.

  Beauty’s whole body shimmied with delight and she jumped up on my leg. Is it true? Can we really go, can we go now? Her eyes asked. They were a golden amber color, much lighter than our first foster puppy’s—she’d been a black Lab. Somehow Beauty II’s eyes seemed even more human.

  “Well, let’s go then,” I said softly. I quickly changed out of my new dress while she nosed through a pile of dirty clothes to find my wrist guards.

  “Good stuff,” I told her outside on the steps, when she dropped them in my lap. Sometimes it really did seem she’d make a great guide dog. I gave her an extra hard hug, which is what I’d really wanted to do with Debra. Then I pulled away so I could get my skates on.

  “She’s left Rolph, Beauty. That has to be good, don’t you think?”

  Beauty wagged and wiggled. She seemed even more excited about that news than I was, as she loped off beside me, a big dog grin across her face. The sid
ewalk rumbled beneath my skates as we traveled up to our favorite park where only a couple of days ago the pavers had been working.

  “Let’s check out the new path, Beauty!” I turned into the park and couldn’t believe my eyes. There’s nothing quite as great as fresh, smooth blacktop to Rollerblade on. The rumbling turned into a smoother murmur as my wheels glided across the new surface. “Aw, yeah, it’s definitely our day, girl. Rolph’s gone. The whole trail is paved!”

  Past the swings and slides, past the monkey bars and teeter-totter, through the forest, toward a hill.

  Stupid Rolph. Stupid Rolph, my wheels echoed. He’d always been a bit of a bully, if you asked me. Stop thinking about him! I willed myself.

  I needed to bend my knees and really push hard to climb that incline. My calves burned by the time we stopped at the top. I breathed in and looked over the park, seeing clearly. Scott would have loved this path. We used to always Rollerblade together.

  Debra will know how to get Scott back. Now that she’s back for good, she can tell me exactly how to act and talk. Never mind Rolph—this would all turn out OK, at least for me.

  “Whoa! Look how far down the path goes, Beauty. Do we chance it?” The trouble with it being a new trail was that I didn’t know, and couldn’t see from here, whether the incline ended in a big curve. When you pick up that much speed, it’s sometimes impossible to make a turn.

  Beauty sat down while I squinted at the path some more. Finally I turned and patted her head. What was the point of working so hard to get to the top of the hill if you didn’t treat yourself to the thrill of skating down? She licked at my hand.

  “You know what, girl? It’s been a perfect day so far. I say I go for it.”

  Beauty looked at me. Are you sure you know what you’re doing? her golden eyes asked. But that’s the best thing about dogs: they don’t lecture and nag you like a parent. “You stay here, just in case I wipe out.”

  Finally, Beauty seemed to nod, dropped down and opened her mouth into a relaxed pant.

  “Stay!” I reminded her, holding up one finger. And I knew she would. I’d trained her by making her wait for her food every day, counting to ten before I said go. I positioned myself away from her, spread my feet apart, bent my knees and crouched down. Slowly, I pushed off.

  But of course, I gathered speed immediately. Faster and still faster. The wind rushed up against my face and through my hair. Life couldn’t get any better.

  “Woo-hoo!” I hollered. “Rolph’s gone!”

  The park around me turned into a green blur. I couldn’t even breathe. And then I spotted Little Stone Bridge partly hidden by a bush. No curve in the path, but there it lay—something even worse. Like a mouth full of metal teeth, a sewer grate grinned across the entire path.

  The only other time I nearly killed myself while Rollerblading was on a sewer grate. That was with the first Beauty, and then I hadn’t even been skating as fast as today.

  What could I do? What could I do?

  I hurtled faster and faster toward those teeth. There was only one thing I could think of. I jumped from the pavement and threw myself to the grass.

  Kyle

  The Date

  On my sixteenth birthday, I had the perfect date planned with Maddie. Well, it could have been perfect if I’d have gotten my driver’s license instead of going blind.

  But at least I still had a girlfriend. Maddie had even come to visit me in the hospital from time to time. If you’re going to have to live in constant darkness, it’ll be at least bearable if there’s someone to share it with you.

  Share is probably the wrong word. The ironic thing was that I’d been afraid of the dark all my life, and Mom had put a different kind of night-light in my Christmas stocking every year to help me cope. When everything stayed dark, Madison was the night-light I pictured to keep the fear away.

  Maddie and I held hands in the back and I imagined Mom’s eyes on us through the rear-view mirror. I wondered what I looked like. Not only was Mom in charge of driving, but she was also my wardrobe consultant.

  My blue socks and blue jeans were coded with two beads, just as the rehab teacher from the Institute had shown me. My white socks and khaki pants were one bead. All of my shirts pretty much went with either; still, four beads meant the tops were bright colors, three beads meant they were dark. Three beads on pants stood for black.

  Mom told me that it looked like a sunny day—why didn’t I go for a brighter look? I’d dressed up in a three-beaded combo that Saturday, for my first date since the final surgery. I couldn’t change. Blind or not, your mom can’t run your life. Still, I had to let her give me the once-over and I felt like kicking myself when she told me I was wearing mismatched sneakers. They did feel different, now that she’d mentioned it. Why hadn’t I noticed on my own? And when would I learn to keep them together?

  Was there anything Mom had missed? I couldn’t help wondering as I held Madison’s hand. I loved the way it felt, the top of her hand smooth and cool, the palm soft and slightly warmer, but not damp like mine.

  I imagined Maddie’s face. She had wide, surprised green eyes with heavy brown eyebrows that rose up and down to comment on things. Up: “Oh really?” Down: “Don’t be silly!” Then she’d chuckle or smile at things I said.

  Her pale white skin sunburned too easily, so she’d wear the most bizarre hats to protect it. I loved those hats. But I loved her upturned nose the best. No hat could protect it as it freckled, just a little, in the spring.

  I’d known her since kindergarten and probably loved her since then, too. Still, it took me years to work up the courage to kiss the tip of Maddie’s sun-sprinkled nose and ask her out. That had been at the beginning of the summer, just before the black hole had opened up in the middle of my vision. But now that the hole had swallowed up everything, if I aimed for her nose, I might kiss her square on the eyeball—and wouldn’t her brows jump up high then?

  I wanted to kiss her in the back of the car that sunny Saturday afternoon, but I was wearing sunglasses. Mom said they made me look like a movie star but really they hid what Maddie had liked best about me, my eyes. She said they were the friendliest blue, like faded jeans— especially when I smiled and the skin alongside them crinkled up.

  Now my eyes wouldn’t focus or smile for her. In fact, my eyeballs were actually shrinking. “Don’t be ridiculous,” my father drawled in his heaviest Southern accent when I first asked him if he’d noticed. But he uses his accent when he most needs to convince.

  “Hardly at all,” Mom answered, and she tousled my hair like a kid. The hair tousling showed she was lying too.

  “Maybe just a bit,” my little sister Shawna agreed, and the tone of her voice sounded so sad, I hugged her and wiped the wetness from her cheek. Lately when I stuck my finger against an eye, I could feel the gap between it and the lid.

  So do you take your sunglasses off to kiss the girl you have known forever and been seeing officially for five months (and not seeing—at least not clearly—for the last two)?

  The wind from my mother’s open window blew against my face. The smell of fall-leaf bonfire mingled with Maddie’s tangerine perfume. Sunrise, it was called. I squeezed her hand and she squeezed back. Could I even chance kissing her at all? The radio played a really dumb golden oldie, something about leaving a cake out in the rain. My mother sang along. I took a deep breath. What the hey! I’d keep the glasses on.

  I leaned forward and reached for her chin with my hand. Good, I touched it first try. Then I held it as my head moved forward. If my lips missed, they would connect with her chin or maybe even her nose. That wouldn’t be so bad either.

  But as my face moved closer and closer, my lips did land perfectly, soft, soft, against hers. And she kissed back. I knew for that one moment she still liked me. Who cared about driving anymore? The world would be an almost perfect place as long as Maddie still wanted to kiss me back.

  I heard her contented sigh. It took me forever to force myself to pull away
again. But Mom was giving us a little cough as the car rolled up to our favorite fast-food restaurant, Poutine Palace.

  I’m not sure how awkward I looked, scrambling out after Maddie, but I think I did OK, walking along beside her, holding her hand.

  “It’s such a nice day. Let’s eat at the picnic table,” Maddie suggested.

  We ordered the house specialty from the takeout window. French fries heaped with hot brown gravy and melting white cheese. It meant a four-dose shot of insulin before lunch and plain salad that night. But it would be worth it.

  Slipping my knees around the bench part of the table, first one then the other, took an extra bit of wangling. I felt the table shift as Madison sat down across from me.

  We always use a wooden fork to stab those fries and shovel them into our mouths. So I started. Delicious—gooey, spicy and smooth.

  The fries were long and I kept wiping the corners of my mouth and chin so that the hot cheese wouldn’t burn me or make me look like an exploding zit.

  That’s when it happened. Maybe I’d gotten overconfident and too quick. Maybe it was the distraction of the seagulls screaming for us to throw them something. In any case, I felt the end of one fry slide right up my nostril.

  Is there any way you can calmly and coolly yank a scalding, cheesy piece of potato from your nose? “Ow, crap!” I jumped up, banging my knees. I pulled out the fry and swiped at my nose with some crumpled napkins. My shrinking eyes watered from behind their glasses.

  “Poor baby,” Maddie said as she kissed my nose, for a change. Maddie could still turn even the worst moment into something special and fun.

  Or the most special and fun moment into the worst.

  After we finished eating, we walked together to the park.

  “Exercise will bring my blood sugar back in line,” was my excuse, but I knew we wouldn’t work up too much of a sweat.

  We strolled past the playground. I heard kids squealing and yelling from the swings and slides. We continued past the monkey bars and teeter-totter; I knew there was a bench nearby but Maddie wanted to keep walking. Through the forest, up a hill and down near Little Stone Bridge, judging by the sound of the water nearby.