Diamond Girl (12 page)

I told them they looked ahmazing, hugged them goodbye
and  settled down to wait for the nearby resort‘s on-call doctor and the housekeeper that I had asked them to send.

The housekeeper showed up first, and I could tell she and I weren’t going to be best buds when she got all dramatic and put-upon about
the remains of my plaster cast floating around the pool. She huffed and puffed, telling me that she was going to have to call in a pool maintenance company because I had probably clogged up the drains.

Having to make a phone call didn’t seem all that back-breaking, but I apologized anyway and, when she seemed calmer, I asked her politely if after she made her call, and changed the sheets, would she mind heading into town and getting the stuff the girls and I needed on the list we had made? But first I asked her if she could walk over to the nearby Starbuck’s and bring me back a vanilla, sugar-free latte.

I wasn’t rude to her - I am never rude to staff - and when she showed back up with my drink, I didn’t ask her for change from the fifty dollar bill I had given her, not that she offered it. She returned in time to let in the smoking hottie who said he was the on-call doctor and, when I saw him, I was so glad I had put on one of Aunt Georgia’s cashmere t-shirts.

I did a quick mental review of my appearance and thought I’d pass. My faded Sevens weren’t bad and I was wearing make-up. One of Milan’s unbreakable rules is that girls wear make-up
always
. This rule was so set in stone that I had begun to feel ugly and naked in the shower if I wasn’t wearing make-up.

The hot doc introduced himself as Dr. Barrows - “Call me Clyde” - and I could tell that if he wasn’t blown away by me personally, he was definitely blown away by my setting. He laughed when I explained why I needed to be recast, and laughed harder, like he thought I was adorable, when I told him that I would probably use the pool again, so could he come back tomorrow, same time,
same place?

He looked right into my eyes with his amazing brown ones, and said, “No problem, or I could just stay the night?”

I know I turned bright red. I mean he was old, at least like twenty-five, I’m pretty sure, because med school takes forever. But, God, he was such an improvement over Jeff that I was sort of toying with saying yes, if for no other reason than wanting to see Milan’s face.

Unfortunately,  or maybe not, he changed his mind after I told him that I didn’t know about him staying the night but he was welcome to hang out with me until my friends got back. I guess he figured that an audience might raise the odds too high on the whole stupid statutory rape thing because he said he had been kidding, which was a lie, but what could I say then?

He changed the subject, asking me if I was in pain while rubbing his thumbs against the leg he was recasting. I wasn’t in pain. The truth was there were days when I could barely feel my legs or my feet, but I didn’t tell him that. I had decided after Jeff to never mention my sickening disease to another guy, even if he was a doctor. Instead I thought about the way Aunt Georgia’s pills had made me feel on the plane and I leaned forward a little and, trying out my best Marilyn impression, I said, yes, my ankle really was hurting me. “It feels bad right now, Clyde. I guess I made it worse swimming and everything. That was stupid, huh?”

He moved his hand up a little, stroking my calf gently. His hands made me shiver. I smiled at him, hoping he would continue.

He said, “No, of course not, Carey. You’re so young and how could you resist a big warm wet pool?”

I wished Milan was there to translate guy talk for me, because I knew I was missing something. When I didn’t answer him, he laid my leg back down on the Ottoman. I wanted to ask him to touch me again, but of course I didn’t, and I guess he misread my bright red face as a sign of pain because he switched to a business-like tone. “What do you want me to prescribe for you?”

I thought back to the names Aunt Georgia had said. “Uhm, Percodan and Vicodin?”

He shook his head. “I can’t prescribe both. Pick one.”

“Well, which one is the best?”

He looked at me funny, pulled out a pad, scrawled something down, and handed it to me. “This should do it and … Carey?” It’s funny. He was the one who was looking uncomfortable now. I waited, hoping he was going to ask me if he could kiss me.

“Yes?”

“Well, how do you want to pay me for this visit? I don’t know if the service told you, but I don’t accept insurance on home visits, so
…”

It was hard, but I managed to look at him like that was exactly what I had expected him to say. It’s been a long time now since I have expected anyone to say anything but that, still I can’t be too harsh on my younger self. When you’re a kid, it can take a while to see things as they
are, not how you wish them to be.

I forced myself to say casually. “No problem, Clyde. Hand me that bag over there.”

He moved fast to obey me, and suddenly he didn’t seem like a hot older guy, he seemed kind of icky with his little pad and his fake designer sunglasses.

I looked up at him. “Will a check
be okay? If not, I have credit cards.”

“No, no, a check is great.”

“Great, Clyde, then I’ll just write it out, if you’ll tell me who to.”

“Who to?”
 

“Well, yeah, Clyde. I mean should I write it out to the Vail Resort where you work or do I make it out to you?” 

“Oh, yeah, well you can just make it out to me, it’s easier.”

“Great, Clyde, no problem then, so I’ll just write it out to Dr. Barrows for … uhm, Clyde?”

He was sweating - not much, just a tiny bit. “What is it, Carey?”

I picked up the prescription. “Clyde, this prescription you wrote for me, does it have refills?”

“No, I … I didn’t think, I mean, I didn’t think that … here, let me rewrite that.” 

Clyde, Dr. Barrows, handed me a new prescription and crumpled up the old one. I spoke out loud as I wrote the check. “Dr. Clive Barrows, three thousand dollars and no cents, is that right?”

He licked his lips nervously. “Yeah … that’s ... that’s perfect.”

I couldn’t wait for him to leave. As soon as he did I called in Sulky Sue, as I had secretly named the housekeeper, and handed her my prescription.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but before you do anything else, I need you to take this to a pharmacy here in town and fill it, if you don’t mind. This should cover it.” I handed her three hundred dollar bills.

She looked down at them and then at me contemptuously. I met
her look squarely until she dropped her eyes and turned to go. I called out a thank you after her, my voice echoing in the vast room. She didn’t reply.

I don’t know why, but my morning of dealing with adults and watching them do what I said had exhausted me.

After Sulky came back, she sullenly dropped the little white paper bag onto my lap, sans change once again. She didn’t ask me if I wanted any water, and though I was thirsty, I didn’t ask her. Her dislike made me feel empty. I thought about how it was almost always like this, how since Elizando had been taken away, there were still people around who would do what I told them to, do it and hate me for making them do it.

I understand, understood, that it must suck to be on the receiving end of someone else’s orders, but it  can suck too to always be looked at like you’re terrible for asking.

I hadn’t picked out my life. I’m not the one who decided I would always be the one telling and other people would be the ones doing. I was never mean. I never forgot to say please or thank you. I wasn’t my mother with her bitchy, hectoring 'I deserve it, you peasants' attitude. And yet sometimes it seemed that the nicer I tried to be, the more people resented me.

I wondered if I would become a woman like my mother. I wondered if my heart would turn to ice like in the book 'The Snow Queen' that Elizando used to read me. I wondered what Sulky Sue would do if I called her back into the room with me and asked her to talk to me because I was so fucking lonely and afraid that sometimes I thought I
might be better off dead.

I didn’t know I was crying until the shapes of the tiny skiers outside the window became blurred. I dry-swallowed one of the pills and waited. After a while I didn’t feel like crying any more and I started to laugh instead, stopping only when the sound of my voice in that empty house creeped me out.

Pills for the pain of living … thank you, Dr. Barrows, but then it wasn’t really funny at all. I had liked him, and I had thought he liked me, but in the end he was just a less honest version of Sulky Sue, another person who would do what I asked, eagerly snatch up my money, and hate and judge me for asking and paying in the process.

I fell asleep. It’s tiring to be disliked. I could have almost felt sorry for my mother, almost.

*  *  *

It was dark when the sound of my horrible disease beeper woke me. My mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and my head hurt.

I was trying to figure out if I needed to call for old Sulky to get my insulin pump refilled, or if I could make the mile-long trek upstairs myself, when Milan and Christy and three strange boys burst into the room.

The girls looked so radiant in the sudden bright lights that Milan had switched on at her entrance. They were flushed from skiing and cold air, and the excitement of new guys to admire them. 

The three boys were all on the seriously hot side - two tall blonds and a dark-haired third that was so good looking with his olive skin and dark blue eyes that my already dry mouth felt filled with sand when I saw him.

I was immediately aware that my face must be puffy from sleep and pale from low blood sugar. Self-consciously I sat up, trying to smile, and the great room around me, including the five people standing in front of me, tilted at crazy angles. I knew that if I just pointed at my insulin pump, Christy or Milan would have run upstairs and gotten a fresh insulin needle. Instead I surreptitiously shoved it further down the front of my jeans.

I could feel a thin slick of sweat forming already. I knew if I didn’t ask them for help soon, I would go from sweaty and weak to dry heaves, and fall over unconscious, with the possible never-live-it-down bonus of losing bladder control. I dug my nails into my palms hard and it helped for a minute. The room stilled, my focus straightened, and I was able to smile.

Milan smiled back at me and plopped down onto the couch beside me, lifting my legs onto her lap. “Look what Chrissie and I found at the Blue Sky Basin. These three were just hanging out and they rescued us.” 

I swallowed, and croaked out. “Rescued you?”

Christy and the boys flopped down on chairs. One of the blonds answered. “Yeah, their bindings kept coming undone. I don’t think Chanel is going to be the official Olympic sponsor of the half pipe anytime soon.”

They all laughed, and I tried to but couldn’t. I felt too sick. The perfect dark-haired boy looked around Aunt Georgia’s great room without expression, and said, “Nice little place you girls have here, so ...” He stared at Milan, stunning dark eyes meeting ice blue ones. “Where is the ahhmazing pool room you were talking about?”

Milan patted my leg, addressing me, showing off for him. “Care Bear, since the boys rescued us, Christy and I had to invite them back. I promised them a home-cooked dinner from whichever pizza place that delivers up here, and then a little swim.” She turned and gave the dark boy her most dazzling smile and he lost some of his cockiness. I watched his face tighten, staring at her. “I told them they could help us make boy soup.” 

The others laughed appreciatively at her wit, but not me. Seeing the way he looked at her, I felt even sicker. I was glad that stupid Dr. Barrows hadn’t stayed. Milan would have scorned him and he, of course, would have fallen head over heels in love. It’s hard at fifteen to conceal jealousy, it’s hard to be overlooked.

I glanced across at Christy to see if she felt the same, but like everyone else, she was watching Milan like she was the sun and they were all dying for a tan.
Lucky Christy, always content to ride Milan’s wake. Stupid me, always wanting to be her or, if not be her, then be as noticed as her.

Milan seemed to sense my feelings that night; she tried to bring me in.  She reached over and stroked damp hair off my face. “Care Bear, you’re all sticky, you must have been having hot dreams.”

I reached up self-consciously and put my hand on hers, pushing it away. She looked at me, confused. I had always welcomed her casual affections.

One of the cute blond boys eyed my wrist and whistled out loud.     “Whoa, that cannot be for real.”

I know it was a loserish, low class thing to do but, instead of ignoring him, I brought my other arm out from under the blanket and stretched it over my head. His eyes bulged and I managed to flash my dimple along with my bracelets. The dark boy, who was obviously their alpha, like Milan was mine, really looked at me for the first time.

“If they are real, why would you be wearing them when you’re just lying around? Anyway, I don’t think they are real, you’re just a little kid.”

I know I must have flushed and the room tilted again, this time from humiliation. He thought I was a little kid. I was the same age as Milan who was looking at me, her blue eyes filled with ... love and pity?