Audrey Hepburn's Pearls: Part I

Chapter 37.2: 1995, Ruiz

Chapter 37.2: 1995, Ruiz

 

"I would have gone off on her."

"If only."

"No, really. How dare she treat you like that? You were a customer just like all of them! She should have taken care of you like anybody else! I'm so mad!"

"I know. I don't understand her, either."

"Are you okay, though? They took care of you? Donna sounds nice. That Kathy, though. They should have fired her!"

Across the table from us, Miss Cha Cha was pursing her lips in thought, tearing a chicken breast apart with her fingers. I knew she had something to say, it was her look. I took a bite of my drumstick and stared at her, waiting. 

"Hmm," she said, as expected, "they should have fired her a long time ago. But for some reason she's still there."

"Why?" Ambrose sounded exasperated. He hadn't touched his KFC since I told him about what happened five minutes ago.

"I don't know. Maybe she's really good with other people."

"Oh, if I ever see her..."

"You probably will if you ever go there with Ruiz. I see her a lot."

"I'm so mad."

"I know, sweetie," I said, squeezing his hand under the table.

"This stuff happens, though. If we got mad about it every time, we'd be mad forever. We just have to know there's some ignorant people out there. That's just the way of the world," Miss Cha Cha said full of calm, spearing her separated chicken breast with her fork. I was watching her with renewed respect still, like a child would at an admired teacher.

"Yeah, but..." Ambrose looked lost now. I knew what he was thinking. He didn't want me to have to go through this kind of hurt.

"We have to cherish the good experiences and accept the bad," Miss Cha Cha went on. "Now, eat."

I admired how wise she was. Ever since this morning I hung on to her every word. Watched her. I wanted so much to be like her, proud and standing tall, fighting and not backing down, forgiving the unforgivable. How did she get so strong? How could I get that strong? Maybe if I kept watching her, I could figure out the answer.

"Okay," Ambrose sighed, tucking into his potatoes and gravy. I saw him sneak another look at me first, a little glance to check up on me, to see if I really was okay. It sent a happy twinge up my body. A feeling of well-being.

 

In Ambrose's room later, I was sitting on our bed, staring at the large mirror perched on the vanity. Among the reflected bottles of perfume and product, I sat framed with my lips pressed together. Now was the time all of today had been leading up to, and I was intensely nervous. Next to me, unseen in the mirror, was the pink and white striped Victoria's Secret bag. And what was in that bag...

They were things that would not normally have made me nervous, but now. These things had weight to them, with all that had happened today, with what they meant about myself.

I had worn a lot of bras. Worn bustiers, strapped padding to my body. But that wasn't a part of myself. That wasn't me, truly me. But these bras in the bag. These foam pads in the bag. This was real life. This was part of who I was supposed to be. This wasn't part of another job.

It was me.

My breath started to move forward too quickly.

"He-ey," called out a friendly voice.