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She was one of those women who wanted to dress fashionably. She would
see how the other girls at the office always seemed to be able to strut
into work ten, sometimes twenty minutes late, but the manager would
only slide his eyes down their strategically exposed legs and ask for a
fresh coffee. She had been pretty once too, and popular, a cheerleader
in high school. But that seemed like an old black and white movie now.
She had married her boyfriend right after graduating and they spent a
few mouths as newlyweds, then reality hit. He fell into a bottle and
she had taken to eating bonbons and watching soaps all day. The
cheerleader was swallowed whole - and as her marriage dwindled, her
waistline grew.
But she still liked to dress fashionably, even if
she was just going to the store after work. Tonight she had on a little
green dress, the thin fabric clung to her doggedly and her dyed hair
was pinned and styled and sprayed until it gleamed hard like the
linoleum floor. Red nails tipped fleshy, pink fingers as they curled
around a bag of rice cakes, chocolate flavored. The dress
stretched and pooled in unfortunate places as she reached for another
bag, this one on a lower shelf. The boy stocking shelves behind her
made a face and went to fool around in the stock room. If he had known
her just a few years ago, when she was the cheerleader, he would have
been ecstatic if she bent over in front of him. But now she was just a
big bust and even bigger waist over tiny ankles and high heels. It was
almost mesmerizing; the quivering motions of the bulging fabric; like a
barn animal twitching its flanks at buzzing flies.
She tossed the rice cakes into her silver cart, and
clip clopped down the aisle. A case of diet soda went next to the
bland, calorie reduced bread. Healthy Choice dinners were on sale and
she chose fourteen of the little frozen trays. The dinners always
seemed to disappear so quickly even though she lived by herself in her
cheap apartment. In the next aisle, she picked up some toilet
paper, then a tube of medicated rash cream and a new eyeliner pencil.
Several minutes in front of the tall display of shampoos, spent
debating on whether she wanted extra shine or anti-breakage.
Glancing at her wrist, she turned her cart towards
the check out. She liked to watch the reality shows that played in the
evenings, especially the ones that revealed the dark, plastic
underbelly of the rich and desirable. If she wanted to catch them
before she spent her nightly thirty minutes on the Stairmaster, she
would have to hurry. When she passed the racks of magazines in line,
she selected the ones with the smiling, skeletal faces on the covers.
The beauty tips inside would be carefully cut out and tapped to her
bedroom mirror.
The skinny girl behind the register gave her a sour
look as the woman spilled her cart onto the chipped counter. It was
almost closing time and now she had to wait on this dumpy woman before
she could meet her boyfriend. The two women were like different sides
of the same coin, with only the slow, inevitable drag of years between
them. Both had the same pale glassy eyes, same stubby nose, and the
same dishwater hair. But the checkout girl decided to have a salad
instead of a pizza for dinner, as she watched the woman push her
groceries out the door.
With her purchases loaded into the backseat of her
little car, the woman flounced into the driver's seat; but before she
could drive off, a hand appeared from out of the dark parking lot and
latched onto the edge of her door. She followed the dirty hand up to
the face of a rough-looking man with small, black eyes. There had been
reports of people being mugged in this area of town, but they had all
been young, comely women. A pathetic thrill went up her back as she
remembered the newscasts; none of the women had been hurt, just badly
shaken and beautiful through their tears as they answered questions
from the sympathetic reporter. She not so subtly eased one sleeve off
her shoulder and lowered caked lashes.
"Get out of the car and leave your keys." the man said.
She stared at him dumbly; the news had never said anything about stolen cars.
"I said get out of the car!" a flash of steel from his ratty coat pocket. "Get Lost! Are you deaf, fat ass?"
The woman's wide eyes sparked and she felt something release in her
chest. The man was still spitting out sharp words when her hand shot
out and wrapped its' hard plastic nails around his skinny neck. He
dropped the knife to clutch at the meaty hand digging into his
windpipe. All this happened very quietly, while the man stared into
eyes so white hot it felt as if his innards were being microwaved. The
woman's arm jerked suddenly, yanking him close and he gave a small,
shocked gurgle as the lipsticked mouth opened wide and gleaming white
teeth closed over his head.
The air in the next few minutes was filled with the brittle crunch of bones and heavy, wet slide of flesh.
Letting out a dainty belch, she closed her car door and drove to the
nearby Dairy Queen. The woman pulled up beside the speaker in the dive
through, flicking small dark blobs from her collar; and ordered a large
chocolate malt. Today had been the usual series of one disappointment
after another, and she felt she deserved something. After all, she had
already ruined her diet.
Copyright 2008 Seshat
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