Liquid Lies (5 page)

“Great,” Mark said. His smiled faded. “You’re being sarcastic, huh?”

An ambulance, a fire truck, and two police cars pulled up, causing sheer commotion for an hour or so while they checked me over, filled out reports and dispersed the crowd. All my vitals registered as satisfactory so I declined any more medical treatment. When the excitement died down, the crowd filtered away, leaving just Mark and me. We began the walk back to the pavilion.

“Are you really okay?” Mark asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“Why don’t I take you to the hospital, just to make sure? I’m worried.”

“End of subject, please?” I interrupted. “As far as I’m concerned, my fall’s now in the past. Done and over, never to be thought of again.”

“Fine.” Mark added, “So Francesca’s back from Europe?”

As I walked, squishing sounds came from my soaked gym shoes. I think I even felt a minnow swimming in my undies. Keeping up with Mark’s long strides, I shot back, “Apparently she is. I don’t keep up with her. We're not exactly friends okay? Let’s leave it at that.”

“But you told me that you and she were once best friends.”

“
Were
.”

“Do you think she’d date me?”

“Please? I’ve got a splitting headache. Can you lay off about Francesca?” I wasn’t mad that he asked about Francesca. I just felt out of sorts now that I had seen her again. It dug up too many memories I’d rather leave buried, as well as a plethora of memories I cherished.

“You know, you were a lot nicer before you almost drowned,” Mark said.

“Weird how something like that can change a girl. Can we talk about something else, like your internship at the dead people place? How’s that going?” I asked.

“It’s great. I’ve got the embalming down. It's the makeup I’m tanking. Men don’t naturally have that glamour gene.”

“Neither do I. It takes practice.”

He turned and pointed a long skinny finger at me. “Great idea. I'll practice on you.”

“One problem.” I gently pinched his arm. “Feel that? Corpses don’t pinch, and you need a corpse.”

“A mere technicality.” He rubbed his arm. “There are no extra corpses lying around. But you, you’ll be perfect.”

“No.”

“I'll buy you dinner.”

“Forget it.”

“A Reuben on rye at H&K’s, with crispy chips and a beer?”

“No.” I picked up a rock and tossed it in the lake. “Mark, don’t you need somebody without blood in their complexion?”

“You know, you're looking kind of pasty.”

I rolled my eyes and looked up at him. “Flattery will get you nowhere,” I said, although I knew I'd let him do the makeover on me. He had me at Reuben.

Mark stopped and knelt on the ground, put his hands in a prayer configuration and fluttered his lashes over his big aqua eyes.

“Please? I have my final exam tomorrow, and I really need the practice. If I pass this last exam, I’ll be that much closer to fully fledged mortician status.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed. “To get you off my back, fine. But you better not make me look like Bozo.”

He jumped up. “You’re in luck. I haven’t learned clown corpse makeup 101 yet. But I know how to make non-clown corpses look animate.”

Mark wanted to make me look like a cadaver after he saved me from being one. Something in the universe was twisted today.

“So we’re on?” he asked.

“You bet,” I said.

“First, I’ll wrap up with Samuel and Annie, make sure that everything is in order. Meet me in the locker room in ten minutes. I have all the stuff with me.” He winked. “I knew you’d let me practice on you. You can't resist my baby blues.”

Whacking him in the arm, I said, “If you screw up my makeover, you’ll have black and blues.”

After Mark left, I paused by the public dock, calmed by the sound of the water gently splashing against the rocks on the shoreline. I liked peace.

Since seeing Francesca, something felt out of whack.

Turning from the lake I walked over to the ticket booth at the pavilion and approached Hazel, who had staffed the booth from the creation of time. As though trapped in a 1950’s time warp, she wore her hair in her signature platinum beehive. She wore turquoise eye shadow from her eyelids to her brows and bright ruby lipstick lined her cupid bowed lips. Her petite, soft, plump body was squeezed into pedal pushers two sizes too small for her girth. And she topped off the outfit with a skimpy midriff sleeveless blouse, under which the folds of her pale white tummy spilled out. Being around Hazel made me feel as happy as being in the front row at a parade.

“Hello Hazel.”

“Hi ya, CiCi!”
Hazel glimpsed up from counting her money drawer. “You look like hell.”

“I took a swim in my clothes.” My khaki shorts, white polo shirt and jacket were still damp and wrinkled.

“Swim my ass.” She reached out and touched the cut on my forehead. “I heard you almost drowned and Mark saved your skinny butt. He blabbed it to me before he ran into the locker room. He was all excited about doing makeup. I never thought he was…” Hazel rocked her hand back and forth. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that whole alternative lifestyle but…”

I smiled at her. “He’s straight as an arrow in that department, but warped otherwise.”

She leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Anyway, no more near death, by drowning or otherwise. I can’t handle that. Okay?”

“Too bad, I was going to try it again tomorrow.”

Pushing a glass of water and two aspirin my direction, she said, “Motor Mouth also told me you had a headache.”

I popped the two aspirin in my mouth and chugged the water. “A dip with the Grim Reaper can cause that.”

She shifted in her chair. “Why don't you take the rest of the day off, go home and convalesce? Mark can finish up.”

“There’s nothing to recuperate from. I'm completely back to normal.” I fiddled with the keys on the back of the ticket booth door.

“Fine then, Ms. Normal. Are you hungry? Here's a tuna fish on rye I made for you.” She dug into large canvas sack slung over the back of her chair and pulled out a brown paper bag.

“Thanks. You’re the best.” I could eat anything on rye bread.

“Now go to the locker room and change out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold.” She handed me the sandwich wrapped in wax paper.

“Thanks. See you later.” I unwrapped the sandwich as I walked over to the bulletin board inside the ticket booth. I grabbed the schedule for the rest of the week and headed over to the locker room.

As I exited the ticket booth, I heard the beeping of a trailer backing up. It went down the cement ramp next to the pavilion and then unloaded a red boat into the water. White letters on the back read, ‘I Sea You.’ Ken’s new boat. I wanted to take a closer look, but my makeover from the mortician-in-training waited.

As I rounded the corner of the pavilion my black Labrador, Skipper, almost knocked me over. “Hey there.” I bent down and scratched him behind his ears as he enthusiastically wagged his tail. Skipper looked up and licked my face. I tore off a big chunk of the sandwich and handed it to him and he gulped it down in one bite. I gave him the rest.

My aunt Estelle walked over and kissed me. “I thought I would take him for a walk. What happened to you? You’re soaking wet. And you’ve got a cut above your eye.”

“I’m fine.”

“Wait a minute young lady. Were you the one that nearly drowned? The whole town is talking about it. Oh my goodness. What happened?” She held her hand to her heart.

“It was nothing at all. I just slipped off the boat,” I said, trying my best to act nonchalant so as not worry her.

Her eyes narrowed under her wire-rimmed bifocals. She pulled a handkerchief from her basket and held it to the cut on my forehead, “I think you need to get that looked at.”

“I got checked out and have a clean bill of health. I don’t want you to worry one second. Promise me?” I gently pushed away her handkerchief from my head. “So what's in the basket?”

“A letter from some attorney I got a while ago. I’m giving it to Hazel to look over. Oh, and some cookies for her to sample. I made them with a special ingredient: capers.” Estelle’s broad smile pushed her plump rosy cheeks to a full mound under her bright hazel eyes.

“Wow.” I was at a loss for words. Estelle thought she was a Midwest version of Paula Deen. I’d never had the heart to tell her that her creations, like her sausage and fish tacos, her jalapeño infused chicken Cordon Bleu, and chocolate carrot cake, although full of enthusiasm and zest, were mostly unpalatable.

She pushed a chunk of the cookie in my direction. “Open up.”

I automatically opened my mouth. The salty and bitter taste battled each other. Both flavors lost the war of edibility. I winced.

“You don’t like it?”

“The lake water must have screwed up my taste buds. I’m sure they’re great. Listen, I have to run. Mark is waiting to do his makeup magic on me. I’ll see you at home later on. Love you.” I gave her a kiss and patted Skipper’s head. “Oh, I almost forgot. What about this letter you got?”

“It’s no big deal, I’ll tell you about it later.” Estelle called after me, “Get out of those wet clothes.”

***

I strolled into the locker room, grabbed my dry outfit and went back to the restroom and changed. When I entered the locker room, Mark had the makeup from his mortician school spread out on one chair and he motioned for me to sit in the other chair.

The locker room didn’t have a mirror, and the restroom mirror was permanently fogged. “I hope you brought a mirror so I can see myself after this experiment?”

“That’s one thing I don’t have with me.” Mark began with a sponge full of dark orange brown foundation on my face. “Trust me.”

Glancing at the makeup, I realized none of the colors would match my complexion. Actually, none would match any human’s complexion, dead or alive.

This could be trouble. Was a free Reuben on rye worth it? As if on cue, my stomach growled. I was here for the duration of the makeover, even though I had a fleeting second thought about going through with this. But, Mark needed the practice, and it’s only makeup. I could always wash it off.

We chatted while Mark sponged, brushed and rubbed makeup onto my face. An hour later he was done with me. He took a few pictures. “You’ve helped me out so much. Once I show my instructor that I’ve got this down, I get to do the next client myself.”

“That could’ve been me.” I grabbed a paper towel and began to wipe off the goo. It stuck to my face like cement. I had to get some industrial strength soap. As I left the locker room, my cell rang. I answered.

“You need to get to the hospital now,” said Ken.

“Actually I have this horrible makeup on that I have to take off, and then I have some things at work to finish up…”

I heard him sigh into the phone. “Please? Come here
now
.”

“Actually, I want…” He hung up before I was allowed the opportunity to fully respond.

“Dr. Kenneth Wilson, please come to floor three,” the unit secretary said over the pager.

When I saw Ken emerge from the hallway, my heart skipped a beat. As always, his tousled sandy brown hair, light blue eyes, and tall stature had the power to grab my attention.

“I heard about your accident,” he said as he walked over and kissed me. “I’m ordering a CT scan.” He tugged me into an exam room.

Deciding not to get up on the exam table, I sat down in a chair. All six foot three and two hundred and fifty pounds of him hovered over me. He reached into his white lab coat pocket and pulled out a penlight.

I winced as the light blinded me. “Who told you?” I grimaced. “Mark?”

“Mark. Estelle. Hazel. Damn near the whole town.” He leaned over me, touching the cut above my eye. “It isn’t deep, you don’t need stitches. But you did hit your head so I want the CT.”

“I don’t know what they told you, but I don’t need a CT. I’m a little hungry for a BLT though.”

He smiled. “Did you know that Francesca is back in town?”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“Earlier today I saw her heading up to the executive offices.” He pointed to the ceiling. I’m assuming that is where the hospital’s CEO and other high up administrators had their offices.

“I saw her this morning after I took a swim,” I said under my breath.

“Isn’t it great to see her again? It’s been years.”

“Yup.” And not one second of the past four years has gone by without me wanting to undo what we did that last night we were together.

“Hey I have an idea. I had gotten us concert tickets to see that band you love. You know, the same concert you went to on Francesca’s eighteenth birthday? I was going to surprise you and take you, but why don’t you and Francesca go together? It’d be a perfect way for you two to reconnect after all these years. What do you think?”

I felt like a sand bag had slammed into my gut. That is the very last thing I wanted to do. “Sounds great, but um…”