Pretty Girls Don't Cry Read online

  When she returned, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his face in his hands.

  “Are you crying?” she asked.

  He rubbed his hands on his face and then on the sheets. “I don't know if I can ever forgive myself for what I did to you.”

  His gaze traveled down and stopped on her right leg, her prosthetic.

  “You can touch it,” she said.

  “I can't.”

  “You have to. If we're going to do this, you have to get over it. You have to grieve, and then you have to stop. Like I did, a long time ago. Or maybe just recently. I don't know. There's no guidebook for life.”

  He patted the bed next to him, and she sat down. He put his hands on her left leg, around her thighs, and ran them all the way down past her knee, her calf, and her foot. It tickled a little, but she didn't flinch.

  He took a breath and started again at the top of her right leg, over the top of her knee, where he paused, then touched the sides of the prosthetic, where the seam curved up along the sides of her knee. He seemed to stop breathing as he ran his hands down the prosthetic and over the foot, which was the match of her left foot, as it had been made from a reverse casting of the right.

  He slid off the bed and sat on his knees at her feet. “Where does your leg end?” he asked.

  She gestured with an open hand to the mid-point of the shin of the prosthetic. “It's mostly me, to here.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Sometimes.”

  He winced. “Bad?”

  “No, not bad. I can still do everything a person with two natural legs can do. You won't see me out jogging, but it's just because I hate jogging. I could, if I wanted to.”

  “Oh.” He bowed his head, looking for a moment like he was praying or proposing.

  “Do you want me to take it off? Do you want to see what's inside?”

  He looked up at her, his face showing that he understood this was an important moment for both of them. “Yes,” he said.

  She reached down and tugged off the prosthetic, setting it carefully off to the side. She rolled down the stocking that fit inside it, and kneaded the calf muscles on her residual limb. “Some people get cool tattoos on the scar, but I like how it looks just the way it is.”

  He nodded and stared at the scar, as though memorizing it.

  “Aaron, I don't blame you at all. I was the idiot kid who thought she could ride a motorbike. It was just a little bike, and I was a strong kid. I should have been able to control it, but I was stupid, and I thought I was invincible. You tried to talk me out of taking it around the block on my own, but I can be very convincing.”

  “You can be.”

  “The rest of me is still here. Aaron, I forgive you. I take full responsibility. You didn't do anything wrong. You were just a kid too.”

  He dropped forward, his head resting on her knees. She stroked his hair as he ran his hands over her legs, all the way from the top to the bottom.

  “I'm sorry,” he said.

  She leaned down and kissed him on the back of his head. “That's the last time you ever have to apologize about that.”

  He looked up at her, his hair messy and tousled from her hands.

  And that was that.

  Apology given, and apology accepted, fully, completely.

  Chapter 14

  On Sunday, Nora had an early dinner with her mother. They had Chinese food again, at her mother's new favorite restaurant. The spicy spring rolls were incredible.

  After dinner, Nora drove back to her new home in Portland.

  She worked Monday through Friday, eager and nervous for the weekend.

  On Friday she drove back to Eugene, back to Aaron Edward.

  After a perfect weekend, she returned to Portland Sunday night. The drive seemed to be getting shorter, as she became more familiar with the landmarks.

  On Monday morning, Nora woke up to her light-radiating alarm clock, before the sound phase of the alarm started up, and slipped on the floral dress she'd bought but never worn. She looked at herself in the mirror. She had her mother's eyes and her father's chin. She was twenty-seven. She had her whole life ahead of her.

  She'd spent most of the weekend with Aaron, and he'd already been looking into moving, renting a recording studio in Portland. Until he had the business side of things taken care of and moved over, they would continue to see each other on the weekends, alternating between their two cities.

  Nora formally told her mother she was dating Aaron, and her mother simply said it was nice news, good, even, and better than fine.

  She said it was good for people to love each other, no matter the circumstances. “We're on this earth for one another,” she'd said.

  Indeed, pairing up did seem natural. Kylie had finally phoned and confessed to Nora that the guy she'd been dating was none other than Bobby, and she was so sorry to go after an ex of Nora's, but she really liked him. Nora then apologized for having slept with Kylie's boyfriend before he was her boyfriend, so they were basically even. They did not compare bedroom notes, though Nora had a difficult time refraining from asking about the possibility of spanking.

  Nora strode to her parking stall under the building, surprised by how wonderful it felt to wear a dress in the summer. The air played around her legs in a way it never did in even the loosest-fitting pants.

  She climbed into her new car, her father's restored Camarro, and started the engine. She didn't know much about cars, much less this one, but to her ear, the engine sounded perfect. He'd always meant for it to be hers someday. She felt his presence all around her.

  The sun wasn't up yet, but it would be in an hour or so. She waved at her billboard, and because she was running early, she stopped at a 24-hour doughnut shop to buy treats for everyone at the station.

  The woman at the counter said, “I know you, you're Nora!” She called for the people in the kitchen to come out and meet her. Nora shook everyone's hands, and one of the guys asked if he could take her photo with the group of them, with his cell phone camera. They squeezed in together for a shot.

  Nora noticed the man standing next to her was crying. She looked down and realized his left arm was a prosthetic, and he had a hook instead of a hand, which would be much more practical for working in a kitchen.

  “You're an inspiration,” he said to Nora.

  “No, I just talk on the radio. You make doughnuts with one hand.”

  He beamed. “That, I do.”

  The woman said, “Can you stay? Carlos is coming in soon, and he'd love to meet you. Is it true that you kissed that Stevey? Was that real? Oh, you must stay, have a coffee.”

  “I have to go, prepare for the show,” Nora said. “I'll come back again, though. Everybody loves your doughnuts.”

  The woman gave her a hug. The man with the prosthetic shook her hand, barely able to meet her gaze.

  They wouldn't let her pay for the dozen doughnuts, so she slipped a twenty in the tip jar when they weren't looking.

  Back in the Camarro, she started the engine and turned up the radio. The station was playing Liz Phair.

  Nora rolled down the window and sang along, as loud as she could.

  Thank you for reading Pretty Girls Don't Cry.

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  www.tonyjwinn.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5 />
  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14