The Muse by Suzie Carr

thing between the lips and placed that bright blue light above to work its magic.
    Did everyone turn into an obsessive, compulsive freak when flirting with someone interesting? Did their hearts pump extra hard and their vaginas twitch with such frantic intensity? Was I the only fool too afraid to step into reality and give it a real try?
    How I wanted to be this person in real life, staring at Eva with power, mystery, and intrigue. I wanted to dance on her heart and send her twirling.
    I looked like a clown with all this makeup caked on my face and dressed up like I was ready to hit the Roxy for a dance fest on my own podium above a sea of crazed, drunken idiots below. I tore a piece of paper towel off of the roll and began wiping this ridiculous girl away.
    I wiped so hard, my skin burned. I smeared cold cream on my face to help quicken the process of removing this disappointment from my life. I’d never be this girl anyplace other than in front of my bathroom mirror.
    I hated makeup. I didn’t dress in provocative low-cut shirts unbuttoned down to my boobs. High heels sucked and hurt my feet, and these tight jeans cut into me.
    I was fabulous just as designed, as plain Jane. Who wouldn’t love to be me, the faded flower on the gray wall?
    I continued to rub my skin and question why I couldn’t have been born normal. Why couldn’t I walk around in a pair of high heels without twisting an ankle? Why did makeup make me look like a scary clown?
    What did I expect? After what I did to that poor girl so many years ago, I deserved to look like a clown. I deserved to be easy prey. I deserved to stand alone in my condo and act out fantasies instead of live them.
    Really, with that justification, all the girls that bullied me should also be rotting in their apartments like me instead of living extraordinary lives. They probably married rich men and had three kids a piece who they dressed up in prissy clothes and drove to summer camp in their Mercedes. They probably all got together each weekend for summer block parties on their grandiose decks overlooking the waterfront. They probably had perfect asses, toned thighs and waistlines that didn’t need to be unbuttoned to allow for breathing room. No doubt though, in the far reaches of the night, they, too, succumbed to nightmares of fangs and claws digging at them, torturing them into remembering the pain they caused another human being.
    The longer I stared at my stupid reflection, the more ridiculous I looked. I scrubbed my face down to a raw state, moisturized it, and tossed the used paper towels in the garbage. Then, I tore off the clothes, ignored my pale reflection as I walked past it and put on my typical Friday dress down day outfit – a pair of loose fitting jeans with a long t-shirt underneath a short-sleeved Old Navy one. Just for kicks, I left my hair dangling messy in the ponytail.
    I stole one last glance at myself and shrugged. “It’s not like she’ll know I’m CarefreeJanie.”
    Before walking out of my condo, I hit the spacebar on my laptop and it brightened to life. I logged into Twitter and trickled through my feed, through my mentions and then finally through my direct messages. My heart flipped when I saw her pretty picture next to a new message. Her smile reached out and tugged at my heartstrings.
    “My boss changed plans on me today. I was supposed to video conference in on a meeting with the main branch, but he thinks I should be there instead.” Her message continued. “So, now I’m heading to Maryland to be there in person. I’m going to attempt another try at Old Bay. I’ll let you know what I think.”
    My hands flew up to my parched face in full panic mode. I dropped my head into my lap, waiting for the rest of me to catch up with my heart.
    # #
    I drove in silence, comforted only by the lulls between my engine hums. I pulled into a convenience store to get a pack of gum. I parked and watched a group of teenaged boys and girls prance around