Take My Picture

by bistander

©Copyright 2024 bistander

This story is written by bistander and is presented here by his authorized agent, ahorsewithnoname. A letter authorizing this is on file with the publisher.

Afternoon sun, shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows, made the white room unnaturally bright, like a movie set. The oohs and ahhs of present opening were finished, so Marlaina sat on the empty couch. Her pregnant friend, Roseanne, waddled around the living room, showing her appreciation. Marlaina watched, examining the reflections and silhouette effects. Roseanne's excessively swollen breasts sat heavily on the woman's huge belly. The backdrop created a halo effect around her in the dust-speckled air. Marlaina caught the exact second the rays cast elongated shadows from the bulges Roseanne's son would soon be suckling. It had been the perfect opportunity to snap a picture. Why didn't Marlaina have a camera?

"Mind if I sit?"

Marlaina turned and saw kneecaps through shredded holes in blue jeans. She looked up as light flickered off a speck of diamond just above the flare of the young lady's nostril. It was a cute little nose, sprinkled with freckles, attached to a pretty face, framed with dark brown hair that had been streaked with blonde. An awkward few seconds passed while Marlaina's brain went off searching for a connection, the way it does when you see a young version of someone who became famous years later. The whole time she was staring at the girl's eyes. They were hazel, but in the bright room, they had a hypnotizing shattered glass effect.

“Can I?”

"Oh,” Marlaina said and looked at the empty space beside her. “Sure, there's plenty of room."

"I'm Layla."

When Layla turned to sit, Marlaina noticed the back of the pants were equally worn and tight. The material had been molded and cast to the shape of the girl's ass by years of use. I have a pair like that somewhere, Marlaina thought, and wondered if they would still fit as if it mattered? When could she wear them, certainly not to Roseanne's baby shower?

Layla dropped her body, jostling Marlaina, and let her knees flop outward. One actually resting on Marlaina's properly crossed legs. She wanted to say, you know Rosanne! Instead, she politely asked, "How do you know Rosanne?"

"See that old bird over there?" Layla asked. "The one scowling at me?"

"That's Mrs. Praytor, Roseanne's mother."

"Mine as well," Layla said. "I'm Rosebud's sister."

"Rosebud?"

"Oops, I forgot, I'm the only one who still calls her that. She hates it."

It was actually kind of cool, Marlaina thought, but she'd never address her friend with a name she hated.

"I guess she never mentioned having a sister," Layla said.

"Um, I don't think so, but I may have forgotten."

"Don't worry," Layla said, "it's probably better that way. Rosebud normally paints me in a bad light. I rather someone reach their own conclusions about me without her help."

So far, Marlaina thought, first impressions painted Layla in complete darkness. The girl was brash, but Marlaina wanted to know more. "I've known Rosanne and Bob for years, yet we've never met. Where have you been?" Probably prison, Marlaina thought.

"New York, but I've stopped in a few times, usually for something baby related,” Layla said. “It's amazing; Bob couldn't pry her legs apart with a crowbar all through high school and beyond, yet Rosebud turned into a regular baby factory, three in five years."

Marlaina revised her first impression-brash and crude-and finished her wine. "New York, what did you do there?" Probably a wannabe musician or actress.

"I was a finance manager at Citibank."

"Oh."

"I know, surprising, but I clean up nicely," Layla said. “How long have you known Bob and Rosebud?”

“I've known them since we moved next door, or two houses down, really, but Bradley, my husband, has known Bob much longer. They both work at Mr. Praytor's company.”

“Oh, you're the one with all the flowers in your yard?”

“Yes, I'm a bit of a gardener.” Something her friends paid someone to do for them. “I love this time of the year, so many things are in bloom.”

“I love it,” Layla said. “Honestly, I stopped and admired it. I couldn't figure out how all the neighbors shared the same landscaper, yet one yard stood out. I figured whoever it was must have been sleeping with him.”

Marlaina waited for a smile to suggest it was sarcasm. When the silence became uncomfortable, she said, “Thank you for noticing. Nobody understands why I put so much into it.”

“I get it,” Layla said. "I'm gonna see if I can score a beer in the kitchen. You want one?"

It might be refreshing, she thought. "No, thank you."

Once Layla's abused, blue jean-clad butt disappeared into the kitchen, Marlaina exhaled. What the girl lacked in etiquette, she made up for in physical attributes. Marlaina stood, prepared to mingle with the other well-to-do mothers. Roseanne caught her eye, and the pregnant woman made her way through a gaggle of wine and sweet tea drinking conversationalists. "I see you've met my sister."

"I have," Marlaina said. "You never mentioned a sister."

"Well, I suppose it just never came up in conversation. If need be, feel free to brush her off. She's giving mother fits in those atrocious pants and that horrible thing in her nose."

"I can imagine," Marlaina said and she could, even though it had seemed to accentuate the girl's attractive face. "Did she come all the way from New York just for the shower?"

"I wish," Roseanne said. "She's back and staying with us until she decides to get a place or goes off again following some man."

"Oh, well, she's in finance, it shouldn't take long to find a job in Atlanta."

"I can hope, but for now, she's staying here. That's what family is for, mother says, but I'm always the one to take her in. The girl needs to grow up and get married."

Marlaina nodded and looked around the room. All married women. Two were visibly pregnant, and she knew of another who wasn't yet showing.

"Will you excuse me?" Roseanne asked. "I see Shirley. Her daughter had a recital, so she's just arriving."

"Of course," Marlaina said and collected another glass of wine and some hors d'oeuvres from a passing tray. Instead of mingling, she returned to her place on the couch. Was it Layla she felt sorry for or herself?

The bright-eyed, energetic girl entered the room, looked around, as if seeking a particular person, and started toward Marlaina. The can of Budweiser in Layla's hand made Marlaina glad she hadn't given in to her momentary lapse of judgment. Beer would have been bad enough, but she would have been the topic of discussion if seen drinking it from the can. She avoided eye contact, but Layla sat too close, again, despite many empty chairs, a loveseat, and six feet of vacancy beside them.

"Did my sister imply I had grievous character flaws?"

It was more than implied, Marlaina thought. "No, Roseanne was making her rounds. She mentioned that you'd be staying with her. That's great."

"You're very kind, but there's no need," Layla said. "Many years ago, I stopped putting stock in their assessment of me, and accepted my role as the black sheep."

"Doesn't it bother you that they don't approve?"

"For all the millions of dollars they have, their approval never got me a ride on the subway. I learned that I am who I am, and I'm satisfied."

Reminds me of Mandy, Marlaina thought. Mandy, who went by Luna for unknown reasons, was one of the many kids her parents forbid her to befriend. Luna was the poorest girl she knew, yet the happiest. Marlaina remembered Luna shaking her finger and saying, "Mar, be yourself, you're the only one who can do that." Mar, nobody called her that since high school.

Marlaina turned toward Layla. "What degree did you pursue to enter the world of finance?"

“Bachelors in Accounting & Finance.”

A sudden stab of regret made Marlaina redirect the conversation to the weather in New York and other small talk. Layla tipped her head back and gulped down the contents of the can. Marlaina imagined the girl burping and crushing the can on her forehead. "What brings you back to Georgia?"

Layla put the empty between her thighs, held Marlaina's forearm and sang in a soft melodious voice: “I'll be with him, on that midnight train to Georgia. I'd rather live in his world than live without him in mine.”

Marlaina stared in disbelief, possibly with her mouth hanging open. The girl's voice was as mesmerizing as the shattered glass appearance of her irises. Layla cocked her head and said, “Rosebud must have told you I follow men off to wherever? If she hasn't, she will.”

“Your voice is beautiful,” she said. “Have you ever considered being a singer?”

“I've considered many things, but that's a long story for another day,” Layla said. “And, for the record, I've made some bad choices with men, but never moved anywhere to be with one of them.”

Even though she knew next to nothing about Layla, Marlaina said, “I wouldn't have thought so.” Then added, “I'd be interested in that story. We have a pool, so feel free to visit. We can talk more.” I hope I don't live to regret that, Marlaina thought.

"You're not just being polite, are you?" Layla asked.

Don't sound enthusiastic. “Of course not, I'd love to get to know you better. I'll give you my number. You're always welcome.”

Sunday

Sunday morning, Bradley went to the country club for a game of golf. After some internal debate, Marlaina dug around in places she hadn't looked for years until she found them, her old blue jeans. They clung to her thighs and required a few extra shimmies and firm tugs to clear her hips, but essentially they fit. She smiled at her reflection and went to do the gardening yesterday's baby shower prevented. A whole tray of annuals needed to be in the ground. It was better to do it while Bradley was away because it embarrassed him that his wife did their yard work.

Once Marlaina was in front of their Sixty-five-hundred square foot house in the gated community, a breeze touched all the places the denim was too thin to protect. She shivered and almost retreated, feeling exposed, but cotton puff clouds floating across the blue canvas caught her attention. There were shapes the imagination could craft into animals. It was a picture-perfect day that made her think of days spent at the river with friends from high school, the ones her parents forbid. Before shame could slam the door on revelry, Marlaina saw herself naked, giggling and running toward the water with Luna. They would float, talking about boys and the immoral things they imagined doing someday. When their skin was wrinkled, there was a flattened section in the tall grass where they spread beach towels. Marlaina remembered how the hot sun quickly settled her chill bumps and touched her where boys weren't supposed to. Her nipples would stiffen and heat and moisture grew between her legs the way it had when Billy kissed her. It was embarrassing, and she was afraid it was only her who felt those shameful things. Luna wasn't ashamed or embarrassed. She was brave, honest, and sure of herself. They talked about the feelings, and Marlaina told her friend what Billy wanted to do next time they went down to the river.

Stop it, Marlaina chastised herself, and got down in the dirt, ramming the spade into the earth.

Twenty minutes later, Marlaina patted the cool dirt around the last plant with her bare hands. They were filthy, so were her feet. She had tossed the shoes and gloves after the first hole had been dug. Her knees were stained brown in circles that matched the holes in her pants.

"I didn't think it could get any prettier, but you've done it," Layla said.

Marlaina looked up and saw Roseanne's sister cutting across the manicured sod. If it were any of her friends, she would want to dig a hole and crawl in, but the girl approaching wore the same jeans as yesterday. Monkey see monkey do popped into Marlaina's mind. They matched, except, considering the size of Layla's breasts, her tank top kicked modesty in the teeth. "Thank you," she said and got up, brushing off her hands.

"You look better, too," Layla said and poked her finger through the threadbare material and wiggled it on Marlaina's thigh. "More comfortable."

Marlaina stared at the spot the other woman had touched. Something that she could only compare to an aftertaste lingered there. Had their conversation yesterday taken them to a place that made touching that part of her flesh appropriate? Who does that? Certainly not anyone she knew. "Layla, why did you decide to sit with me yesterday?"

"You were the only person who seemed as out of place as me," Layla said.

"Out of place?"

"Yeah, you might as well have been wearing those jeans."

My God, she's forward, too. "Nonsense."

"It's true,” Layla said. “You were deep in thought, staring off into space, dreaming of another place. It seemed to make you sad. Yet, now, I find you dressed in those jeans and a shirt as dirty as your hands, and your eyes are full of happiness and joy. You're twice as pretty as I thought you were."

Why is this gorgeous young lady telling me I'm pretty? "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Layla said. "Care to talk about what was on your mind yesterday?"

She's unbelievable, Marlaina thought. "No, it was nothing," she said. "I was thinking about taking pictures. I should have brought my camera."

"You into photography?"

"I used to be, took a course in college and took a lot of pictures, but not so much now."

"That's a shame," Layla said sympathetically. "What was your major?"

"Same as yours," she said, "but I didn't finish. You know, got married, being a housewife, it was better that way for us."

"Okay," Layla said flatly. "So, you sure you weren't just being polite yesterday? You don't mind if I come over, maybe swim?"

"You are welcome any time, even if we're not home, help yourself."

"Thank you," Layla said. "I'll let you finish this. It's beautiful. Oh, and I want to see your pictures sometime."

Marlaina nodded and watched Layla strut back across the lawn. Rosanne and Bob had a standing invitation. Was that why she extended the same to a woman she only met twice?

Sunday evening, Bradley entered the expansive kitchen through the glass sliding door, carrying a plate with two ribeyes. "It's hot as Hades, and it's just May," he said, slinging the door closed.

"You say that every year, yet in August when it's a hundred degrees, you'll still be out there at the barbecue. I can broil them, and they'll be just-"

"No, the barbecue is always better,” Bradley said and set the tray on the dining room table. "If we stay on this course, before long I'll hire someone to sweat outside for me."

"I enjoy cooking," Marlaina said.

"Nonsense, every woman dreams of having a chef."

Another night, Marlaina might have engaged her husband in a debate, but not tonight. She remained silent until their salad bowls were loaded and their plates filled with steak, mashed potatoes, oven roasted parmesan Brussel sprouts, and sweet peas. Bradley poured red wine and picked up his knife and fork.

"Did you know Rosanne had a sister?" she asked.

Bradley examined the hunk of steak on his fork, said, "Perfect," and pulled it from the prongs with his teeth. Satisfaction was plastered on his face.

She filled her mouth with a mix of mashed potatoes and peas, pretending it didn't bother her. He'd answer when he was good and ready.

"Why?" Bradley asked.

"Does it matter?" Dammit, she admonished herself, I shouldn't have started off that way.

"No, I was curious as to why out of the blue you'd asked."

Deep breath, deep breath. "I'm sorry, I guess it wasn't out of the blue for me," she said. "I was at Bob and Roseanne's yesterday for the baby shower, and-"

"You'll be having one of them before long. You'll see."

"Of course," she said and hacked off a piece of the meat that was cooked more than she liked.

A few minutes and glass of wine later, Marlaina tried again, "Did you know? I met her at the shower. It came as a complete surprise. You've known Bob much longer, so I was wondering if you knew." There, she gave him what he wanted, a full explanation.

"Yes, I knew," Bradley said, "but I've never met her."

"She got her bachelor's, the same one I was working toward."

"That's nice."

"She might be looking for a job, so I thought you could talk to her sometime. If her experience-"

"Have her submit an application online," Bradley said.

"I thought you might cut through some of that and get her an interview, that is, if you think she's got the right experience."

"I don't even know if there are open positions. Let her-"

"Bradley, you're the CFO, that's what you do."

"Look, from what I've heard from Bob, she's not the kind of person we would hire."

"But you never met her."

"I told you I didn't, are you accusing me of-"

She cut him off for the second time, "It wasn't a question. I think you should draw your own conclusions, not base them on what Bob said."

"Bob is the CEO, so what he thinks is good enough for me."

"Fine."

"Don't be mad, that's just the way it is in business."

Curtly, Marlaina said, "I understand," and poked her food in silence until Bradley had finished eating. After, she distracted herself with cleaning up, but later she would have to go to bed. She dreaded it because there was a star on the calendar, meaning her probability for pregnancy was high. If she refused to have sex, Bradley would accuse her of not wanting to have a baby.

Monday morning, after Bradley had gone to work, Marlaina took coffee and her journal out on the patio. The sun warmed her between occasional chills from the breeze. She held the mug under her nose and inhaled the steam, wishing she felt differently. How so, she didn't know, just not the way she'd been feeling. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy her life, and love her husband, but something was missing.

Marlaina set the coffee down, grabbed the embroidered diary, and wrote: “What is it? Could not getting pregnant make me feel like I'm a failure as a wife? Am I sad because all my friends have kids? Or am I sick of being the one who is trying? That's all it has become, sex to make a baby, but my baby maker is broken."

A sound caught Marlaina's ear. She waited a few seconds without moving, then the gate latch clicked. Shit, she dropped the journal on the table and drew her robe tight as she stood. Layla appeared. Marlaina's stiff posture loosened as did her grip on her robe.

"Good morning," Layla said. "I'm going to be embarrassed if you were just being polite."

That was a preview of Take My Picture. To read the rest purchase the book.

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