Rouge

Her Beauty is a lie. A trick. I nod.

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other.”

She turns away from me and grabs her white hat from the bed. That’s why she’s back. Can’t forget the hat that keeps out the sun. That will keep her from ever being tan like me. That will keep her Beauty a lie. From the doorway she looks at me, her hat in her hand.

“Go wash your face and then go to your room and stay there. Until I come back.”

She looks at Chip, shaking her head—what is she going to do with me?—and slams the door. I hear the sound of laughter in the hall. The click of their footsteps fading. And I’m alone in Mother’s blue bedroom. Staring at the floor-length mirror in the closet. No more crack. No more dust. The crack’s sealed up and the glass gleams. Empty now. Tom’s not in it anymore, though the ocean animal smell is still all around. Just my reflection. Same old face slashed with Mother’s lesser red. Except I look a little flushed, like I’ve been running or something. My heart’s pounding in my chest. My heart is full. With what?

A new secret. Our secret, Tom said.

Seth.

I close my eyes, the better to savor it.





Part III





14


Bright afternoon seeping in through a crack in the red velvet curtains. Slept long. Slept deep. Now the sound of birds and waves outside. What a sky that is, I think as I lie here. I’m in a bedroom. Whose bedroom? Oh yes, that’s right: Mother’s. Mother’s dead and I’m here in California, wrapping things up. That’s why there are palm trees outside the window. Look at them waving in the blue breeze, almost like hands waving. I wave back a little. Hi. That’s why there are wave sounds too. Mother lives by the ocean, remember?

Lived. Right.

There’s another sound I hear along with the waves. Vibratory and celestial, like chimes or the endless gong of some great sacred bell. Sort of like there’s spa music playing somewhere, funny. Nearly brings a tear to my eye, though it’s quite pretty. I could lie here listening to it all day, actually, just that there are things to do. What things? Funny, can’t remember just now. When I try to think, there’s a kind of mist over my thoughts. I can smell it, if that makes sense. Like eucalyptus almost or sage surrounding me, burning. It’s pleasant like a perfumed fog. All I see in my mind is a tall black vase of pretty red roses. White, red-nailed hands arranging the stems. Huh. Maybe if I shower or something it’ll all clear and the things I have to do will come back to me. That sounds really nice.

But I hear voices out there now, beyond my bedroom, over the chimes and the waves. A man’s voice and another man’s voice. Both familiar. Both distressed-sounding. Rising in pitch like the gulls outside. Who’s out there? Better go see. I grab a robe from the back of the door, white silk with black roses, very pretty. It gives off a violets-and-smoke scent, also pretty.

Just as I’m putting on the robe, I remember last night. Went somewhere, where did I go? Oh yes. The house on the cliff for my free treatment, that was nice. Very nice of Rouge to offer me that. I remember the red waiting room and the white faces in the walls and the glowing woman staring at her many mirror selves in the dark. I remember the lovely sound of chimes, like the chimes I’m hearing still. I remember a cold white paste being lathered onto my face, a marine algae mask, maybe. Pretty conventional stuff in the end, for all the baroque trappings. Probably drank too much of that red champagne, because I’m drawing a bit of a blank after that. You might find you have a few blanks after this, didn’t someone say that? I recall a hand leading me down a dark, endless hall. I held the hand like I was blind. You might find you’re in a bit of a fog. But you’ll see the results in the mirror quite clearly. Letting go is so worth it.

What did I let go of? I wondered. But all I said was Oh good. I hope so.

Can’t expect miracles, of course. Know better by now. But maybe I’ll have a bit more of a glow today. That would be a very nice surprise. I take a quick look up in Mother’s ceiling mirror before I go out the door to meet those voices, getting louder now.

Oh, look at that. Yes. I do seem to be glowing a little today. How nice.



* * *




Two men are in the living room, so my ears were right. One is wearing a linen suit and holding a briefcase; the other is shirtless and holding some sort of squeegee. Briefcase man looks a little like a goblin. The shirtless squeegee one looks like a merman, except instead of a fish tail, jeans. He’s very pretty. It’s a little funny to see the two of them talking. Such an odd couple. Who are they? I know them, I know I know them, but it’s taking my brain a second to give me their names. While I wait, I watch a pretty white cat do figure eights around their legs as they talk to each other in low voices. Now they both turn to look at me. The looks on their faces are very strange.

I smile. “Hello, good morning,” I say, because my brain still hasn’t given me their names. “I was about to shower but then I heard your voices over the chimes and the waves.”

They both just keep staring at me like they’ve seen… someone dead. Boo, I want to say. The pretty man with the squeegee looks stunned, why stunned? Just a bit of a glow. He grips the squeegee like a gun pointed right at me. I laugh to put him at ease. “Don’t shoot,” I say, but he doesn’t laugh with me. Maybe he’s an idiot or something. I turn to the goblin man. He might be more reasonable since he has a briefcase. But he looks just as shocked as the pretty squeegee man. His shock isn’t so pretty because of his goblin face.

And then I remember. Of course. Mother’s lawyer. This goblin man is Mother’s lawyer.

“You’re Mother’s lawyer. Tell me, is there something wrong?”

That seems to snap him out of it, though he’s still looking at me funny. “Belle,” the goblin man says, like he’s confused, like my name is a question. “Sorry to barge in like this… I came by because I’ve just received a notification from your mother’s bank.”

“Mother’s bank.” Huh. The roses in my mind flash redly in their vase. “What about Mother’s bank?”

“Well, I was hoping you’d tell me,” the goblin man says, trying to smile. Sweating a bit.

“Tell you?” Tell you what? I hear a faint swelling of those chimes. The mist over my thoughts grows thick. “I think you better tell me first.”

“Well.” And the goblin man clears his throat. He looks very pale. “It looks like all her debts—”

Beside me on the wall, one of Mother’s many mirrors shines and I can’t help but look into it. I’m a little nervous to look, I have to say. The way both these men are gaping at me, you’d think I have tentacles growing out of my face or something, haha. But when I turn to the mirror, I’m pleasantly surprised. Very pleasantly. My, my. Look at that.

“Belle, did you hear me?”

“What was that?” I’m still looking at my reflection, my face, which looks really very—

“I said, it looks like all of your mother’s debts have been paid off.”

“Paid off?”

“Yes. She’s totally cleared.”

“Cleared,” I say to my glowing face in the glass. Looking into my own shining eyes. “Unbelievable. Well, that’s wonderful, isn’t it? A very pleasant surprise.”

“It is. But—”

“What? Cleared is a good thing, isn’t it?”

A very good thing, my mirror eyes say. Now I look at the goblin man in the glass, though it’s hard. Very hard to look away from my own reflection just now, which is smiling at me like of course cleared is a good thing. The best thing. The happiest turn of events. He’s still staring at my face with that strange, scared expression. Why scared? Shouldn’t I be the scared one? Doesn’t he look even more goblin-like in the mirror?