Tallman pg. 4

“Don’t worry about it.”

They stood there for a moment, her leaning against the door and him twirling one of his dreadlocks with his fingers. When the phone rang they both jumped. She didn’t answer it. Andrew kept his eyes on her, curious. On the third ring the answering machine picked up.

“Hi…. ahem.” Beep.

Isabel had forgotten about that message she’d left. It sounded sad and out of place now, with Andrew standing there. Then her mother’s voice filled the apartment, tinny and echoing.

“Hello? Isabella? Isabella, this is your mama. Are you there? Louisa gave me your number. Mija, please call us soon. Your papa is worried and no one has seen you except Louisa. Why don’t you come to Mass on Sunday? Please call us. Bye.”

In her mind Isabel could see her mother hanging up the old rotary phone in the hallway. She could hear her slippers against the hardwood floor, and the sound of her hand worrying with the wooden beads of the rosary in her robe pocket. Andrew was watching her, trying to read her face. A car drove by blasting rap music, the bass so loud that the windows rattled as it passed.

“I should go. I promised my uncle Mike I’d mow the lawn today and work on the back yard flower gardens…”

He glanced past her into the apartment again.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Sure.”

He stepped in and looked around at the chaos of her apartment. Clothes were still thrown everywhere and empty vodka bottles were lined up on the counter. The Chéri bag was next to the door of the bathroom, overflowing with makeup and skincare products she still hadn’t used. Her closet was open and the blankets she slept on were tangled and dingy-looking. Andrew’s eyes stopped on the closet.

“Is that where you sleep?”

“Yes, for now. It’s actually the coolest place in the apartment at night.”

“I hope you’re not claustrophobic. Don’t you have a bed?”

“Not yet. The closet’s not that bad, really. I just got a job, though, so I’ll get one as soon as I can afford it.”

“Yeah? Where?”

“The Chéri Counter.”

“Really? You don’t seem like the makeup-counter type.”

“I’m not. I just need a job.”

As he turned away from the closet she pushed the blankets back with her foot and shut the closet doors, suddenly awkward. She began to wonder why she’d invited him in. He stepped into the doorway of the bathroom and turned on the light. From behind him she could see the dirty towel, the mildew spots on the ceiling, the moldy shower stall.

“Well, there’s one good thing about this tiny bathroom.” He winked.

“What?”

“The sink is so close to the toilet you could throw up into it if you ever got real bad food poisoning and couldn’t get off the toilet.”

She laughed awkwardly, relieved that he didn’t comment on how dirty the bathroom was.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I hope I never have to do that.”

He stepped back out into the main room of the apartment and fished for something in his shirt pocket. He pulled out a huge joint and held it out to her.

“You look like you could use this. Let’s call it a free sample. If you want more, just call me.” She looked at the joint but didn’t take it.

“I don’t smoke weed.”

He put it back into his pocket, undeterred. He glanced at the vodka bottles.

“Sorry…. I just thought you did. That’s funny, because I don’t drink. I just sell a little of this stuff to make extra cash. And keep up my supply, you know? You probably think I’m a creep now.”

“No, I don’t really care what you do for a living. It’s none of my business.”

He smiled and nodded absently, his red-rimmed eyes a little vacant.

“So, you wanna go get some lunch when I finish the lawn?”

His invitation surprised her. She didn’t want to go with him, but was impressed by his boldness.

“I really need to take a shower and go run some errands…”

“How about next Monday when I come to do my uncle’s yard again? Can I take you to dinner?”

She didn’t really want to. Andrew wasn’t the type of guy she usually went out with. And she also didn’t think she would feel like going out to dinner after her first day of work. After being in the department store all day she knew she’d be sick of being around people, and ready for a drink. But he had arranged to get her electricity turned on, so she felt she owed him something.

“Why don’t you come over and we can eat dinner here? I don’t have anything fancy, but then you don’t have to spend any money on me.”

“Great! Sounds good. I’ll come over after I do the yard then, around six?”

“Okay.”

Isabel opened the door for him and he left. A few minutes later she could hear him dragging the lawnmower out of the shed at the back of the yard, whistling cheerfully. As she stood in the bathroom mirror pulling her hair into a quick ponytail she studied herself. Her t-shirt was visibly dirty, her shorts crumpled from sleeping in them. Her eyes looked small and the lids were puffy. Her face was shiny and pale. She looked nothing like the tanned, smiling girl who had kissed Joseph goodbye at the airport. She wondered if Andrew would have been interested in her if he’d known her before she left. Then she remembered telling him she was leaving to run errands, but she didn’t have anywhere to go. She decided to go buy pantyhose and new shoes for work with some of the money her mother had given her. As she walked down the stairs, Andrew looked up from the lawnmower and waved. She waved back, and then turned in the direction of the drugstore on Olive Avenue.

When she got home her mother was waiting for her, sitting on the bottom of the staircase leading to the apartment. Perspiration was visible on the dark fabric of her dress. She was holding a plastic grocery bag, and stood up when Isabel came around the corner.

“There you are, mija! I was wondering if I was at the wrong house. Please don’t be mad at me for coming, I was just so worried--”

Isabel interrupted her, furious.

“I knew Louisa would give you my address! Didn’t she tell you I didn’t want to see you? Please go away.” She pushed past her mother and began going up the stairs. Her mother followed.

“No, Isabella, she didn’t tell me where you lived. I followed her after Mass last Sunday, just because I wanted to know where you were. Why didn’t you call us?” Her mother was out of breath from climbing the stairs, and breathed heavily.

Isabel was fumbling to get her keys out of her purse and hold the Chéri bag at the same time. Andrew was still mowing the backyard, and Isabel was glad he hadn’t noticed she was back. She set down the bag quickly and a few lipsticks fell out, rolling down the stairs and clattering against the pavement below.

“Mija, answer me: why haven’t you called us?”

“Mom, I don’t know what to say to you. I just want to be alone.”

“Well, why don’t you come to Mass? Everyone asks about you, and I don’t know what to say.”

“I honestly don’t think I’m Catholic anymore.” Her mother gasped and crossed herself quickly, whispering under her breath. Isabel found her keys and unlocked the door.

“Don’t say that Isabel! You don’t mean that. You don’t know what you’re saying. You need to go to confession.” She touched Isabel’s arm gently.

“Mom, I’m not going to confession. I’m not going to that church anymore. Joseph told everyone what I did, and they all hate me.”

“No one hates you, Isabella. What did you do?”

“Are you serious? You mean Joseph didn’t tell you? I thought you knew why I broke up with him.”

Her mother looked at her blankly, so she went on. “I slept with a guy I met at college in England. He wasn’t my boyfriend or anything, in fact I never saw him again, but I realized I didn’t love Joseph anymore.” As she spoke her mothers face went pale, and then flushed with anger. Finally her mother began to talk, her voice shaking.

“You are a disgrace to our whole family, Isabel. Joseph was too good for you. He’s better off with the nice girl he’s with. Don’t worry—I won’t come back. You can have your filthy apartment and your sinful life.” Isabel turned and opened the apartment door, and let herself in as her mother’s voice rose. She wondered if her mother would think differently of Joseph if she knew he’d been sleeping with that “nice” girl before Isabel had cheated. She closed the door in her mother’s face, and heard her repeat through the door: “You are a disgrace.”

Then there was a crash of something hitting the door, followed by the sound of her mother stomping down the stairs. Isabel opened the door to be sure she was gone, and discovered what her mother had thrown at the door. The plastic bag she had been holding was ripped open and several religious candles in their glass holders were broken and laying around the top of the stairs. There was a chip in the faded paint of Isabel’s door, and her shoes crunched on the broken glass. She began to cry as she picked up the broken candles and brought the pieces inside to the trashcan. After the candles, she threw away the entire contents of the box of photos in her closet and took the trash out to the dumpster, hoping Andrew wouldn’t notice her tears if he saw her.

On Monday she showed up at the Chéri counter five minutes early. She had taken the time to try to do her own makeup using some of the items from the bag she’d been given. She felt a little more confident in her new high heels, and she’d actually been able to iron her black dress and blow-dry her hair this time. Louisa was behind the counter, applying a thick, frosted gloss to her lips. When she saw Isabel she gave her a quick once-over.

“Well, we’re definitely going to have to do your makeup. Go ahead and have a seat over there.” She motioned to a padded leather chair in front of a large oval mirror. Isabel sat down.

“I tried to put some on myself…I thought maybe it would save you some time.”

“You have makeup on?” Louisa leaned in close to her face, inspecting it. “Oh I see, you put on a little blush, and a little beige eye shadow. You’re going to have to wear a lot more than that. It really has to show up, so the customers can see it.” She began getting makeup brushes out of a drawer and laying them on the counter.

“Oh. All right. I just kind of wanted it to look more natural, you know?”

Louisa sighed as she opened a jar of cream face makeup. “The point isn’t to look natural, Isabel. The point is to sell makeup.”

She began smearing the thick makeup onto Isabel’s face. Isabel could see in the mirror that it was too peach-colored, and not at all like the color of her actual skin. She wanted to protest, but decided it would probably be better if she just kept her mouth shut. Louisa took about an hour showing her how to apply her makeup, layer by layer. Isabel tried not to look at herself in the mirror. Afterward, Louisa showed her how to use the computerized cash register and laser scanner.

“The store’s opening in a few minutes. Just ask me if you have any questions, okay?” Isabel nodded. She walked to the other end of the counter just as the doors opened and customers began filling the store.

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