On the way home, Paige and I stopped by Sam’s flat to drop off his shirts that had been at the cleaners. It had been easier for me to pick them up ~ the drycleaners was only two doors away from the Day Spa, after all ~ but in my current state of physical disarray, I didn’t want to be doing errands or seen by anyone. It had been bad enough having Paige slink along behind me as we walked to the car. She was looking at me as if I were shedding chunks of skin onto the footpath or something. Which I wasn’t.
I went into the shop and dinged the bell for service. The woman, Beverly, who usually served me, came scurrying out from the back.
“Why hello, love,” she said, stopping abruptly in the doorway. Her lips pressed together at my appearance. It was clear she was trying not to laugh.
“I’ve come to collect Sam’s shirts.”
She looked me up and down, “Yes, of course,” and raced back through the doorway. It was then that I heard an almighty guffaw emanating from the back room. She was laughing at my face. And not only that, she’d told her husband, Merv, the dry cleaner, who came to have a look too. I could see his nose poking from between the string curtains and there was a definite snickering coming from the direction. This was too much. Had they no sympathy for others? I was never coming back into this shop again, that was for sure. Sam could collect his own dry cleaning from now on.
At last, seemingly recovered, Beverly returned with Sam’s shirts. Without looking at her, I handed over my card.
“Have you been sick, love? You look awfully red.”
I stared her in the face, hoping that she’d feel guilty for laughing at me. “I had an allergic reaction to a facial. Can I have my card back? I’m in a bit of a hurry.”
“You should get some anti-histamines for that,” she called after me.
Everyone was a bloody doctor.
After dropping Paige at home, I drove around to Sam’s and I let myself into the flat. I went into the bedroom to put his shirts away for him. Sam had just got out of the shower and was walking through the ensuite door at the same time. He looked so handsome, standing there half naked and dripping. It was a pity I looked like lumpy custard.
“Hey Babe,” he said, coming over to kiss my lips. “Thanks for getting my shirts. I didn’t have time to pick them up. This wedding shit is hectic, isn’t it?”
Obviously, there was something wrong here. I know I had my huge sunglasses on but surely he could see my face. Why hadn’t he commented? I decided to ignore his ignoring and act normal.
“So you got to the shoe shop to try on those shoes?”
“Yep. They didn’t have them in my size so I picked a pair that’s similar and still shiny like you wanted. Is that okay?”
“Sure.”
It was nice that Sam was taking a bit more interest in wedding stuff now. It made me feel a little better. Like we were in it together. Still, I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t making a comment about my face. Maybe after everything we’d been through he’d finally turned over a new leaf. Transformed from ‘Bastard Of The Century’ to ‘Sensitive New Age Guy’. Maybe he was being nice because he knew I must feel embarrassed at the way I looked. It was rather out of character but I was willing to take any small scrap of kindness at this point.
“What’s your plan for tonight?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. Johnny’s picking me up at five and the only thing I know is that we’re going to the clubrooms first to watch the Force play.”
“Make sure you have something to eat. You don’t want to be drunk and disorderly before eight. Especially on your Buck’s Night.”
Sam went over to the bed where his outfit for the evening had been laid out. Dropping his towel, he pulled his legs into his briefs then his jeans. He yanked a navy blue shirt, buttons still done up, over his head and straightened it on his chest. Then he ran his fingers through his hair making it stand on end. “Will do.”
“Be careful tonight, Sam.”
Sam turned to face me. “It’s only a Buck’s Night, Mill’.”
“Yes, but it’s also a night of boys with alcohol and no women. And you know how rowdy you get when the girls aren’t along. I’m not coming to pick you up from the Police Station.”
Sam took me in his arms and placed a tender kiss on my forehead. “I’ll be careful.” Then he pulled back slightly, peering at me. His face got closer to mine as if he was seeing me for the first time. Slowly, he lifted my sunglasses up and put them on the crown of my head. That grin of his began to grow. I could see him trying to suppress it.
“What the hell happened to your face?”
“I had a facial.”
“A facial transplant? You look like Jabba the Hut only red.”
Then he began to laugh. Insensitive arse. So much for sympathy and turning over a new leaf.
“Thanks.”
“Well, you do.”
“Apparently, I had an allergic reaction.”
“You don’t say,” he said, chuckling a bit more. “Thank God, you’re not coming out with me tonight. People might mistake you for my fiancée.”
“You bastard. A bit of sympathy would’ve been nice. Do you think I like the way I look? How am I going to go out tonight looking like this? I’ve already had Paige and the dry-cleaning people laughing at my expense. I don’t want the rest of Perth doing it too.” That nasty tear came back and rolled down my cheek.
Sam took a step back. He swiped a tissue from the box on the dresser and handed it to me, giving my arm a little rub as he did so. “Don’t cry, Babe. I didn’t mean it. Really I didn’t. It’s just that you’re so…. so red. I was a bit of a shock. Is there anything I can get for you? A paper bag perhaps?”
“Very funny.” I sniffed away my tears and punched him in the arm. Seriously. Sometimes I hated Sam.