SKIN DEEP by Rosemary Dun

Sue wouldn’t be seen dead in one of those shops, normally. But this wasn’t Sue at her normal. This was Sue at her in-your-face, I’m-going-to-wear-what-I-like mode. All fired up from her counselling session with Betsy.
          'Before you leave today, we’ll end with an affirmation,' Betsy had said.
          'Now close your eyes and repeat after me – I AM BEAUTIFUL.'
          Sue fought the urge to giggle as she obliged with a half-hearted: 'I am beautiful.'
          'No, no Sue. From your soul, dear. Dig deep. Dig deep. Now, big breath in and …'
          'I AM BEAUTIFUL,' Sue had said, steadily, feeling calm. 'I AM BEAUTIFUL.' And she’d opened her eyes and stared with surprise at Betsy, who smiled back.
          'It’s true,' Sue said. 'I am beautiful.' And had left in a state of beautification.
          And had driven to town. Straight to one of those shops. The shop where that dress she had fallen in love with, flaunted itself in the window display. As she locked her car door, a man walking down the street turned to give her an admiring glance. It’s working, she thought. And, head balanced beautifully atop the apex of her spine, she strode into the shop and said to the assistant: 'I’ll have that one - in a Large.'
          'Here we are,' said the assistant.
          For once, Sue did not anxiously scan the size 8 shop girl for any tell-tale smirks.
          'Thanks,' she took the dress, knowing that today it was going to fit. Today the dress would be a dream. Because today was it.

That evening was Freya’s party. Sue had been dreading it all month. But, fortified with her counselling session devoted entirely to her problem with parties, and with Freya’s parties in particular, she was ready for what the night would bring.
          Carefully, she applied her makeup all the while remembering to smile at herself in the mirror in a confident way. She had seen this item on daytime telly which claimed that smiling at oneself in the mirror for twenty minutes a day lifted the spirits. And who knows? She reckoned it was worth a go. Still, it was difficult applying eye pencil whilst smiling because her eyes kept crinkling into laughter lines. But she carried on as she was running late and had to combine hair, smiling, affirmations – 'I am beautiful' – make up, hair, and smiling again.
          Which all made for a busy time in front of the mirror.
          'Right,' she finally said to her reflection. 'Let's go.'

She arrived and was cheered by the fact that her newly acquired brio held. She was able to stride into the party and not scuttle to a safe place in the corner. Instead, Sue stood in the centre of the room and looked about her. There was the usual array of chic and arty people who make up Freya’s parties. On crisp white walls, stills of movie stars from the Black & White era were projected, flickering slightly as they changed from one to the next. Sue smoothed her dress and felt quite at ease with Barbara Stanwyck, Katherine Hepburn. In fact, she considered that Bette Davis in All About Eve just about reflected her mood.
          Uh oh. Hang onto your seatbelts, we're in for a bumpy ride. Freya was approaching, clapping her hands and eyeing Sue up and down. Sue fixed her features into a welcoming smile, determined not to fold at the first hurdle.
          'Darling,' said Freya. They performed a double air kiss. 'Wow, look at you!' She stood back to guage the full impact of Sue.
          Sue stood tall. Beautiful and radiant.
          'You look marvellous,' said Freya. 'I wish I could wear something strappy like that. What with your boobs. Fabulous darling. Absolutely super.' She hailed someone at the far side of the room, and was off.
          'Charming,' muttered Sue who was cross that it had taken only a few words from Freya to successfully puncture her bubble. She headed for the buffet table, wishing that she had an invisibility shield, and fully resolved to leave as soon as she could.
          'Well I think you look stunning, 'said the man who came over to stand next to her.
          God save me from perverts, was what she thought.
          As she turned – rather too quickly – to see who it was, she bumped into him, causing a book he was holding to fall to the floor.
          Before he picked it up she could see its title: AFFIRMATIONS FOR ALL OCCASIONS.
          She regarded him with interest. He had dark curly hair which clearly refused to stay in any one particular place as it stuck out in clumps, giving the appearance of an overstuffed mattress escaping its seams.
          She grinned, amused at his hair’s antics. And then, totally taking herself unawares, she uttered: 'Actually I’m just leaving.' Damn. She wished she wouldn’t keep doing that. Dashing off whenever anyone fanciable came within a conversation of her. Especially this time, she thought, because on closer inspection, he bore more than a passing resemblance to Joseph Fiennes in the movie Shakespeare In Love – but without the doublet and hose.
          'Thought I’d come to your aid,' he said just as she was wondering what he would look like in tights. 'There’s a good affirmation on page thirty-five.'
          'Hm?'
          Sue blushed, as it's not a good idea to have someone peering at you like that just as you are imagining them in something tight and revealing.
          He passed Sue the book duly opened at that page and she read: 'Sarcasm is the thief of joy' followed by an instruction to eat more chocolate.
          'What do you think?' he said. 'It’s self-published at the moment, but I’m hoping to get it off the ground. A kind of more apt affirmation and aphorisms book than the usual guff.'
          She was still musing on the meaning of the word 'aphorisms' when she noticed that he was watching her with a grin.
          He had a look about him of amused insight. As if he were about to ask her an extremely pertinent question. And one which would have them both smiling, at that.
          'I said, I'm hoping it’ll make me a packet.'
          'Oh, sorry, mind wandering.'
          'Good to know that I'm riveting,' he said, still looking amused.
          'No, you are. It is. I mean the book is. It’s a great idea. If only I knew what the word aphorism was.'
          'Oh, no great mystery, merely a fancy word for sayings.'
          He offered her his plate. 'Fancy one of my vol au vents?'
          'Best invitation I've had all night,' she said taking one with something unidentifiable stuffed into its middle.
          'Well, it certainly made a fortune for that guy with his Little Book of Calm, didn’t it?'
          'What? Oh, the book,' said Sue as she tried not to spray him with flakes of pastry. 'I like the bit about chocolate. You know, the tip for warding off sarcasm.'
          He nodded, and took a sip of his drink.
          'And,' he continued, 'I believe that – as on page 25 here - 'treating rather than beating yourself up' is the right thing to do. Don’t you?'
          'Yes.' She wondered whether his talking in quotations was some form of Turette's. Still, she liked the treating bit. Especially with chocolate. Before she could censor her thoughts, Sue found herself imagining him covered from head to toe in chocolate. Disconcerted by the effect he was having, she reached for her bag.
          'I really must go.' Damn. It was like her mouth was conditioned to say that even though her body was demanding she stay.
          'It’s a shame you’re leaving so soon,' he said. Then sang: 'But, If you change your mind/ I’m the first in line …'
          Sue couldn't help herself, and sang back:: '… honey I’m still free/ take a chance on me …'
          They burst out laughing. Together. Sue decided she liked the way his eyes crinkled.
          'C'mon,' he said. 'What do you think? I'm planning a followup book to the affirmations one, already. A sort of – SONG LYRICS TO GUIDE YOUR LIFE BY. And not just Abba. Listen,' and he put his hand on her arm. She could feel the heat through her skin. 'Here’s another just for you.'
          He fake-grabbed his chest then sang: 'Don’t leave me this way/ I can’t survive/ I can’t stay alive …'
          'Communards, right?'
          'See? I knew we were compatible.'
          'You’re really into music, then?' she said, smiling into his eyes, then looking away.
          'Oh yes, …'music was my first love/ and it will be my last …'
          'Stop, stop.'
          'Only if you agree to stay.'
          Sue reddened, feeling confused. She’d gone and said that she had to go. So, if she stayed now – which she wanted to – it would be obvious that it was because of him. And if she left, she’d miss the opportunity of speaking further, and even getting to know him. Where was Betsy when she needed her? Was it too late to give her a ring on her mobile?
          He took her hand in his. 'Look,' he said. 'You probably think I'm certifiable or that I've escaped from the local loony bin.'
          Oh gawd, has he?
          'But I can assure you that I'm a perfectably normal loony. Honest. Look, I'll formally introduce myself.' He shook her hand – which he still had hold of. 'My name's Tom. Tom Jackson. And you are?'
          'Sue,' she muttered. 'Sue Edwards.'
          'Sue,' he said, as if trying it out for size. She looked down at his and her hand, still interlocked. A man bumped past them on the way to the kitchen.
          'Oi!' said Tom.
          'Sorry,' muttered the man.
          Tom turned his attention back to Sue. 'Look,' he said. 'I know you have to go. I don't know why, but I hear that you have to go. And I guess that you’re probably thinking – mad axe murderer with a stupid line in cheesy song lyrics … But I really would like to see you again. And,' he said, now stroking her hand and then turning it in his, 'if you say yes then I can guarantee the safe return of your lovely hand. Hm? I'm guessing that you probably want the matching pair, don't you?'
          'Yes,' she grinned.
          'Was that a yes, you'll agree to see me?'
          And he smiled in what must have been a winning way, because Sue found herself saying: 'I’d love to.'
          'Yesss!'
          Freya turned her head in their direction.
          Bold now, she took back her hand, then reached in her bag. 'Here’s my card,' she said. 'Give me a ring. My home number’s on the bottom.'
          'Right.' And he clutched the card as if it were a precious moment.
          'How about lunch? Tomorrow?'
          Sue hugged her bag. 'Fine, lunch it is, then.' And she kissed him full on the lips, thinking how proud Betsy would be, and how SEIZE-THE-MOMENT she was being. She risked a glance in Freya’s direction to see that Freya was gawping at them – much like a fish drowning in air, thought Sue.
          'Until tomorrow, Tom. Ciao.' (Blimey. She’d never said Ciao before.)
          And she swept out into a night sweet with the scent of approaching summer. An overhead star – which might have been Venus winked at her.
          She felt happy until – Oh God, she remembered, he’ll have to see me in daylight. And, she almost (but not quite), resolved to give Betsy a ring once she got in.

- ENDS -