“She looks so pretty,” said my husband. I had to admit the version of her hanging on the wall was much nicer than the version of her on that reality show, although she still had that same pencil-thin nose, the round nostrils popping out like two tiny fists.
We followed a sign toward admissions, and walked through the shined and buffed interior. I felt like I was inside the engine of a brand-new car. We passed a bunch of people in long medical coats, but all different colors, hot pinks and purples and aquas, and they all had different patches on the upper arms. The doctors—their coats said “Doc” on the sleeve—were the only ones who wore coats that were white, so white it made me think of those teeth-brightener commercials, those sticky strips that you slip on your teeth at night. (My mother got me some once and I kept gagging every time I put them in, so I gave them to my sister instead.) Everyone who worked there sped by us in their bright coats and gave us nods and smiles, occasionally a wave. A lot of people had the same smiles, I noticed. Their teeth looked like a strip of squares of the peppermint gum I liked to chew. One person after the other, their lips would go up, and there would be those same damn teeth.
The people sitting in the admissions area all looked like they could be my neighbors. They looked totally normal, is what I am trying to say. Not like they were broken, or even that they were crazy and trying to fix things that did not need to be fixed. It made me feel a little bit better about my husband, like maybe he was not alone, and it was not so strange that he wanted to do this to himself.
“WELL, OF COURSE THEY’RE NORMAL, sweetheart,” said Valka. “Just because someone wants to get a little work done does not mean they are a complete freak.”
“I did not mean you were a freak. I knew when I was saying it you were going to think I was judging again. I am not judging you.” I swore. “I am trying to explain to you who I was, how I was thinking. What that time was like for me. I know more now. I am learning new things every day. But I want you to know why. Why I was so crazy.”
“Okay, okay.” She shushed me. “I understand.”
I thought maybe she did not, but it was the best I could do.
I SAT DOWN while Thomas checked in with the front desk, crossed my legs, crossed my arms, squeezed myself up into a little ball. I would be very quiet here, I decided. I would disappear. I felt like an intruder. Like I should not know who these people were, and what was wrong with them. And yet I could not help but look around me and try to imagine how they could be fixed.
Across from me were three girls, not much older than my sister, all reading celebrity magazines. Two of them had nice blond hair, though I thought neither was a natural blond like myself, and were dressed like me, denim skirt, tank top, flip-flops. The one on the right had short curly hair that clung to her face, and big blue bulgy eyes that were lined with bright blue mascara. The other girl was just a little mouse of a thing. She had all of her parts, but it was like she was waiting for someone to inflate them all, she was so thin. I could see the bones and veins through her skin.
They were surrounding another girl who had dramatic brown hair; it was long and feathered and had beautiful golden highlights, they almost dripped off her head. She must be from the city, I thought. Her clothes were a little bit nicer than her friends’ even though it was basically the same outfit. She was just a little bit more put together. The shirt had been dyed gorgeous red and orange, and there were tiny rhinestones sewn across the top of it. And she had matching red bracelets and a thin gold chain with a diamond hanging from the end around her neck, all of which glowed against her golden tan skin. She was holding a glossy magazine, and her two friends were peering over her shoulder and pointing. They chatted like birds in the trees right before sunset.
“I want hers,” said the girl on the left.
“No, hers,” said the girl on the right.
The girl in the middle flipped the page impatiently. “These are the ones,” she said, and she pointed. “Just that little scoop up,” she said. She leaned in close and peered greedily. “God, her bikini top hangs so perfectly.”
“She’s hot,” said the girl on the left.
“So hot,” said the girl on the right.
Chatter, chatter, I thought. There are some people who could talk all day and never say a thing.