The Glory of the Red, White, and Blue
Carol’s blood red heels stabbed the floor of the lake house foyer, and the magic of the Fourth of July weekend faded away. As she set her bags down and stretched out her arms, I could tell a real winner was about to come out of her pie hole.
“Oh, I’m home,” she said exasperated.
Bitch, this is definitely NOT your home, and if it was up to me you wouldn’t even be here this weekend. The biggest reminder of all the things I couldn’t do, just walked in and claimed her territory. Her presence added to my mounting frustrations on what was supposed to be a relaxing weekend. Barely an hour in my mom had reminded me to rest, sit still, and not walk too fast. Carol could go tube on the lake, but I had to man the kitchen with accoutrements because it was a “safe activity”. I wanted to have fun, and be care free, but my main priority that weekend was to remember that my “fun” wasn’t the same as everyone else’s. Carol shouldn’t have been my main preoccupation, but she was. After all, it wasn't my fault all of the problems I have now could have been avoided, only if Carol wasn't... Carol.
I think things would have turned out much differently had she not worn those heels. As with many women, their shoes told a lot about them. For instance, my mom showed up to the lake house immediately following Carol. She had on beautiful white platform wedge sandals completely fitting in with the spirit of the fourth. Carol’s stilettos, well… they stood out like a firework misfired into the tall grass of the shoreline. It reminded that my Nike’s held no comparison, and definitely did not add to my barely existent athletic capabilities. I could probably run as fast as she could while in her heels, no matter what kind of shoes were on my feet. And even then, she would look more graceful.
But looking back, maybe it wasn’t those shoes, maybe it was my mother that added to my angst.
“Carol, how are those shoes working out for you?” my mother said, struggling to get by in the narrow entryway.
“Oh, Mrs. Genedge, these shoes are absolutely perfect, I didn’t think they would be this comfortable, but they are like walking on clouds!”
“It’s no problem dear, I thought of you when I saw them and just knew that you had to have them.” She gave her a quick side hug, before dashing off to protect my father during his attempt to make dinner.
My mom never bought me shoes, or clothes, or really even gave me the time of day since the accident. She had no idea what I would find comfortable to wear anymore. Her once prim and proper fashionista daughter had turned into a sneaker and legging yoga pants loving sporty looking chick. But I was far from what I looked like.
I don’t know why my mother invited Carol, or what possessed her to think that having her around would be a good idea. Carol’s entire essence was what I wished for. It was what I was supposed to be doing. It was what I was supposed to be doing with her. Her hope and seemingly clear conscience was something that just irked me.
I sat on the couch looking out over the lake, contemplating how I was going to get through this long weekend. I could hear the pointy heeled woman saunter closer, and smell her overwhelming amount of Sensual Amber perfume. This sensory overload on legs clicked closer and closer. She wanted a little chitty chat!
“Hello there, Caroline! How is my spider?” Ugh, she even used my childhood nickname… At least she was trying not to be a bitch this time…
“Oh, Carol! Hey there, I didn’t see you come in!” I even threw in a dismissive hand wave to add to appearances, “I was looking at the lake and thinking about what happens to all the fish in the winter and how they manage to survive with a heart that must be close to freezing and literally having iced blood running through their veins.”
Carol always knew I had an intrinsic gift of ending a conversation before it started. She knew when to leave me alone, and this was one of those times. I think it was the Amber perfume that was pushing me over the edge.
What she did was inexcusable. She was the one that had caused me to become this way. It was her fault, she expressed no guilt or remorse. What was worse, and hurt more than any wound, was my best friend gave no apology.
As a Bio-tech Chemistry major she knew how important lab safety is. She was given the rare gift of working in a group with me. That day, “The DNA Duo,” were splicing bacterial genes with assembly line accuracy.
Just another day in the lab. Man, they should have invented a way to scratch your eyelid in these damn googles.
“Carol can you fill the beaker to your right with the Benzalkonium Chloride solution please?” It was time to clean out the glass syringe before repeating our confirmatory tests. If there were any Streptococcus A bacteria in it, all of the rest of our work would be destroyed. Our field had to be sterile before proceeding.
I could tell she hadn’t heard me. I asked her again and nothing, it was obvious her mind was not in the lab with me.
“I can’t hold it in any longer Caroline!” She said as she turned towards me, taking her arms and equipment out of the safety hood. “The concert Smoochie and I went to last night was magical!”
I was watching as she gestured with open palmed hands. Doing the classical double hand wave down gesture… My stomach dropped as I saw the beaker crash and shatter onto the floor. The syringe and needle fell sharp-side down, securely lodging itself into my thigh. That’s not sterile, mom is going to kill me if this doesn’t.
A few nights later I called Carol, “Carol my leg is killing me, I need to go get checked out. I have a fever and I can barely walk.”
“Professor Schiff said that the risk of anything happening is too small to even worry about. He said our sample is diluted and that any bacterium that would cause problems they wouldn’t give to Juniors in college. You must have pulled a muscle when you went to the gym.” I heard a click. HOW DARE SHE HANG UP!
The thermometer beeped, 101.9. Shit, am I dizzy…
The next thing I knew, I was in the emergency room in a trauma bay.
This is bad.
I was delirious, and paralyzed with pain, yet my heart ached for my mom when I realized someone was on the phone with her.
“Mrs. Genedge, this is Dr. Twilley at Grace Hospital Emergency Department. I have your daughter tonight and she isn’t doing too well. From what the paramedics and the school tells me it looks like she had a lab incident in her chemistry class” …. “Oh you know? Okay, I’m not sure if Caroline has told you how bad this has become. The infection came on suddenly, and even though it’s in its early stages, it is progressing quickly. We are working to get her fever down and a steady stream of antibiotics in her system. We are going to operate to remove the effected tissue within the hour.” …. “No ma’am she’s not in any pain.” Liar! This shit hurts! “No ma’am, she has no one with her right now, as I said the paramedics brought her in after an anonymous call was placed to her RA that she wasn't answering her phone.” …. “Yes, if you can get here in less than thirty minutes you can see her before she goes into surgery. I am going to stay with her until the surgeon takes over as she is considered unstable right now.”
Monitors alarmed with my heart rate and blood pressure soaring. I felt commotion and my muscles tense and shake. I think even one of the nurses said “Doc you jinxed it.”
“Ma’am does she have a history of febrile seizures?” …. “No?” I imagined he put his hand over the phone because -, “NURSE PUSH FIVE MILLIGRAMS OF DIAZAPAM STAT!”
Man this stuff feels amazing… Doc take it easy on Mom, I’m not that bad now.
“Ma’am I apologize, if you can get here in the next fifteen minutes you can see her before surgery. She’s just been bumped up to the next available operating room.” …. “You’ll try? That’s great but, Ma’am your daughter’s life is at risk and it’s in my professional opinion that she get every treatment we can provide. However, if the infection has spread to the bone and it cannot be saved do I have your permission to amputate?”
As I contemplated what would make me feel better, I thought of more positive things.
Think Caroline, remember! Take a breath. Wearing shorts on a day when the scars have faded enough that wearing shorts isn’t a faux pa. The first day I can wear heels. My Louboutin’s and Ferragamo’s. The pair with the five inch heels. Five inches, five inhales… Five inches, five exhales. Remember and feel the power you feel when wearing them. You can bend the world to your will when you have your toes painted in a French manicure and have those patent leather Louboutin’s on.
The day we arrived passed with almost no incident, and as I expected, the tensions rose as soon as Mom called out to everyone in the backyard, “Dinner is ready! Come get it while it’s hot and before your father burns it!” Jeez everyone is in for a show, Gram I hope you finally figured out how to take a video, there may be a catfight that should be put on YouTube.
“I’ll hold your plate Caroline! You just tell me what you want on it.” She said as she put a hand on my shoulder almost knocking me off balance.
I tried to force a believable and kind smile, “Thank you!” I kept wondering what I looked like with my disingenuous smile and attempt at friendship. Mom smiled, it must have looked good.
I already explained that Carol was no longer my friend, and my family realized this more and more as the meal progressed. Both of us were cordial, but it became apparent to the entire table that it had become a contest to be the most ladylike and well mannered. I think we failed, instead looking like two squabbling toddlers who just learned that they can share Barbie and want the other to have it.
“Carol, please would you pass the butter? The corn is just missing something without it.”
“Of course, spider!” Ugh, she’s not making this any easier… “Maybe try some salt and pepper and see if that helps?” Hah, help, yeah right, helpful advice coming from the girl who didn’t even offer me an alcohol swab that day to clean up with.
I already wasn’t feeling good, my body was pushing itself to just keep alert. Traveling had made me tired and the mental and physical rest I had hoped for had flown out the window.
I hobbled upstairs, barely managing to get into bed. I fell asleep with a heart full of envy that Carol got the downstairs lake house room… Way to add fuel to your burning ashes bitch.
I always had looked forward to Saturday mornings. As a kid they meant cartoons and flapjacks, but lake house Saturdays were always special. Every year, Mom would make pancakes that she called “flag-cakes”, each of the colors of the flag was a different flavor. Every year they changed and you wouldn’t know what combination Mom had chosen until you took your fist bite. This was one of the things every year that made me feel like I could forget everything bad that had ever happened in my life and feel as bright as a sparkler.
Mom was downstairs manning the griddle, and Dad was over on the stove making eggs. The palpable air of true normalcy made me feel like a kid on Christmas morning.
I got excited… First mistake.
I tried to hop up onto the bar stool out of habit and landed straight on my butt. Fighting back tears, I managed to get up and successfully climb onto the barstool. However, the reminder that things weren’t the way they usually were when I came to the lake house, brought on a minor case of the blues. I think my mom noticed and in an attempt cheer me up -or maybe just to be funny- put extra blue raspberry flavored pancake mix in my flag-cake.
The rest of the day wasn’t too unmanageable. The relaxation I was yearning for had finally arrived. I sat out in the sun and relaxed, even breaking out the old reflector to concentrate rays onto my face. I wanted that old timey kind of tan; the kind you would get on a 1950’s suntan cream commercial. Yes, mom even had the tinfoil reflector thing. That was me, minus the polka dot bikini.
Carol didn’t even seem that intolerable either. Thank god.
My blues were gone and the Saturday was uneventful, a perfect day to lead up to the night’s festivities. Fourth of July had fallen on Saturday night meaning the tiny town of Hog Jaw, Arkansas would turn into a hillbilly free for all. I was feeling like today was finally the day to be okay with my scars and don a Dolly Parton outfit of short-shorts and a tied up red plaid t-shirt. The excitement of the night was making my mind hectic and inspired. I just had to do something, the anxiety of it all was making me feel physically sick, and another idea I had wasn’t helping either.
I decided to approach Carol as we were getting ready to go out.
“Hey Carol, are you excited for tonight?”
“Spider, I am so excited, I missed this place so much and seeing the fireworks launch off the dock is my favorite part of the weekends we spend up here. Even after all these years, it’s the traditional, old fashioned fireworks that get to me.”
I laughed, “Mine is when mom makes the flag-cakes.”
“Did she put extra red in yours?”
“No, she put extra blue because I got upset that I fell trying to get on the barstool…” I trailed off.
“Leg muscles?” Carol asked, tentatively.
Nod and breathe Caroline, nod and breathe.
“I know I haven’t done this yet and it’s really overdue,” Carol said setting down the flat iron she was using to tame her frizzy brown hair, “But, I’m sorry that this happened, and I’m sorry that I haven’t apologized before. I caused you so much pain and suffering and still do, trying to act normal like nothing had happened has probably only made a bad situation worse. I had been your best friend Caroline and I should have known you weren’t screwing around when you said you weren’t feeling good. I should have done more than just call the RA, but I was so mad. So mad at the world for this happening. So mad at myself for being so stupid.
Your mom invited me because she knew I wasn’t trying the right way to make things better with you. We had talked and I realized that everything I had done towards you since the accident was just another needle prick after needle prick. It was my fault that I took the sample filled needle out of the safety hood. I’m so sorry, Caroline.”
I was shocked. I just wanted to try and have a normal conversation with her… Her comment filled my mind with a thought numbing white light. I was so succumbed by emotions that I just curled into a ball on the shag bathroom rug and felt the cold tile on my forehead. Both quite comforting, but the thing that brought the most comfort was Carol’s hand on my shoulder as I bawled.
“I’m so sorry that my apology has come so late.”
“It’s all I wanted, Carol. Just an apology, and it took a long ass time to get around to it, but I’m still glad you did, you have no idea how much it means to me, Fish.”
She just pet my shoulder waiting until I was able to sit up and then said, “I know, and want to know what else I know?”
“What?”
“I’ve seen you looking at my heels. I know you can’t wear them but would you be willing to try something for me? I know it’s asking a lot but I think it will help.”
I don’t know what prompted me to trust her. Maybe it was feeling like I was getting my long time old best friend back. But, no matter what the reason was, I’m glad I did.
Carol left the bathroom and returned a few moments later. She helped me up and told me to keep my eyes closed. I knew the house with my eyes closed, and I knew she was taking me back to my room from the bathroom. She sat me down on my bed, reminded me to keep my eyes closed, and slowly started pulling off my sneakers. I knew something was up.
I peeked, and Carol was indeed taking off my shoes and leading me to the therapy mat I had in my room I used to stretch on. It was so soft that if I fell during my standing exercises I wouldn’t get hurt too badly. On the mat were the red high heels, and I had an idea of what she was doing. She led me to the beginning of the mat and then,
“Spider, open your eyes.” She had led me to the mat in such a way that my feet were in the perfect position to slide into the heels. We had always been the same shoe size. “I’ll help you okay, I know they’re a little high but it won’t hurt if you fall because you’ll land on the mat, I’ll hold your arms okay?”
I held my arms out and slowly slipped my feet into the shoes. It felt so good. The leather, the height, the thought of when Victor (my hot physical therapist) would see me in them almost brought back the tears. Standing in them felt so good, so right.
“Do you want them? I can see how much they mean to you and it looks like you got rid of all your other shoes, all you wear are Nike’s these days. Maybe having these around to practice in would make you feel better?”
“Carol, I can’t thank you enough, these are perfect. I don’t think that I’ll be walking in them by myself anytime…”
She was still holding my arms and slowly started to walk backwards, far enough that I was forced to take a shaky, uncertain step. It was still a step, one that miraculously didn’t involve a nosedive into the mat.
When my heeled sole met the mat, in a flash, everything that weekend had finally started to make sense. Carol got the downstairs bedroom to remind me of her every time I had to force myself up the stairs. I got extra blue in my pancake for my mom to show me that she actually was trying to understand what I was going through, that she sympathetically felt my pain. Carol got extra red in her pancake because my fury towards her was falling on deaf ears. And besides Carol was like another daughter to her, I’m sure she added extra to express her fury too. Man is that woman’s crafty!
My mom had been trying to use the Fourth of July to bring us back together, and it was… kinda working. I mean, we were nowhere near the same level of best friends we were a year ago, but we knew that with my first step in those red heels both of us were willing to try. All along it wasn’t the shoes I had wanted, it was my best friend that I wanted back.
As we looked at each other with shocked tear stained faces, we heard loud hoots and hollers coming from the dock my window overlooked. The first fireworks had been launched. What color were they when they had popped and cascaded onto the lake?
