Preview: Take My Picture
by bistander

©Copyright 2024 bistander

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.”