Page 9 of Strange Love

She says “us,” but she really means “me.” Don’t you want a better life for me? As she speaks, her voice cracks and tears flow down her cheeks. Her grip on my shoulders tightens, and I can see the desperation in her eyes. Reluctantly, I nod, knowing it’s what she wants to hear. Once she sees my resignation, she visibly relaxes.

“We’re only moving a few towns over,” she says. “It’s only an hour away. Alan has a car dealership there, and he’s in the process of buying another one. It’s going to be wonderful. He has a nice home, and the ice rink is bigger and better than here. Just wait. You’re going to love it,” she says with a smile, her words coming out faster, revealing her excitement.

I manage a tight-lipped smile back, but my heart is heavy inside. I don’t want to leave our home and move in with fake-tanned Alan, but I want my mom to be happy more than anything else. So, I’ll have to sacrifice my happiness for hers. It’s not as if I have a choice.

Chapter 5

“Welcome To The Jungle”

Ivy - Age 18, 1988

Here I sit on the toilet lid, awkwardly contorting my face in an attempt to follow my sister’s instructions on makeup application. Look up and make an ‘O’ with your mouth, Ivy. Blot your lips on this toilet paper. I feel anxious and silly as my twelve-year-old sister attempts to prepare me for my first day of high school. Her words of reassurance ring out with the confidence only a middle school-aged girl wielding a wand of electric blue mascara could possess.

She examines my face, and then her attention turns to my hair as her brows furrow in concentration.

“It’s not quite right,” she announces, her arms crossing over her chest with authority. “Your hair needs more volume.” Before I can protest, the Aqua Net is aimed directly at me, and we are both surrounded by its sticky, perfumed fog.

Once the chemical haze disappears, I stand up to get a better look at myself in the mirror, and my eyes widen in shock —I look like a clown. Natalie steps back to assess the situation, and I can almost see the gears turning in her head.

“Your bangs need to be fluffier,” she declares, like a seasoned pro.

I brush off her suggestion, looking away and into the mirror.

“I don’t know, Nat. I like it this way. And besides, I’m not trying to draw any attention to myself.”

A mischievous glint sparks in my sister’s eyes as she exclaims, “But you’re a total babe!”

With a heavy sigh, I slump down onto the toilet seat.

“I don’t want to be a babe,” I say, frustrated. “I don’t want to be anything except invisible.”

Natalie smiles sweetly at me, parroting the words our parents have told me countless times over the past year. “You need to get back into the swing of life. Relax and be a teenager.” I can’t be upset with her. I doubt she even understands what she’s asking of me.

I nod sharply, trying to convince myself more than her.

“Yeah, you’re right,” I tell her, but I want to crawl back into bed and hide from the world.

My mom’s voice interrupts our conversation, calling for my sister. It’s time for my mom to take her to school. Natalie hasn’t gone anywhere alone in six years.

Not since that day.

She gives me a quick hug before darting out of the bathroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

“Have a great first day of senior year!” she calls over her shoulder before disappearing.

Turning to face the mirror again, I study my reflection critically. This isn’t me. It’s all “too much.” I prefer a simple look, more natural. With a washcloth and facial cleanser, I wipe off the extra pink on my cheeks and then carefully remove the thick layers of blue around my eyes.

After all traces of makeup have vanished, I opt for something more comfortable. A swipe of black mascara and a shiny, kissable gloss in bubblegum flavor is all I need.

Next comes my hair, long blonde waves shellacked into place and made impenetrable to the wind. Fighting through the stiff locks with a brush, I finally restore some movement and life to my hair. Though I lose a significant amount of tresses in the process, it’s a small price for not having a head of helmet hair.

I smooth out my pink dress and ensure my belts are securely placed around my waist and hips. My new Converse high tops complete the outfit, though Natalie tried to convince me to wear black fishnet stockings and black flats instead. That was vetoed immediately.

Realizing this is as ready as I’ll ever be, I grab my backpack and jean jacket before heading outside to meet my dad. He graciously offered to drive me to school since I don’t have a car. I recently got my driver’s license, but navigating the high school parking lot on my own still makes me uneasy. I’m behind compared to others my age, getting my license late, starting high school in my senior year, and not having any friends when I get there.

Dad gives me an understanding smile as I slide into the front seat beside him. He knows how anxious I am today but doesn’t want me to worry too much. After all, it’s one day, right? How bad can it be?

Xenophobia, my counselor calls it. The fear of the unknown. After everything I’ve been through, it’s a natural response to feel uneasy when I can’t control my surroundings, but I know I can’t stay locked away forever. That wouldn’t be healthy. So, I made the decision to attend my last year of high school. It won’t be easy, but I’m going to try. In preparation, I’ve watched every John Hughes movie at least twenty times and know all the classic stereotypes— the superficial, rich, popular kids; the sex-crazed jock boys; the bitchy, pretty girls; the uber-smart, bumbling nerds; the dark, angry, artsy outcasts; and the ever-present, judgmental, ordinary peers who base their worth on material possessions and trendy fashion choices.