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Chapter 3

1993

Well, That Was a Disappointment

Gwen was about twenty-two. Two days after receiving her college degree, she had moved out of her parent’s house in Towson and into an apartment in Baltimore. She doubted her parents missed her. They were busy with their own lives, both science professors at Dulaney University. Both had wanted Gwen to continue in school and get her PhD, but she was done. She wanted to be out on her own. She wanted a change. She had picked her major, accounting, with that very plan in mind. CPAs made good money, and she could graduate in four years. She was good at math and was a quick learner, so the courses were easy for her. She had no desire to follow her parents into teaching. Standing in front of a group of people every single day was not for her, and besides that, she knew that not continuing her education and not following in her parents’ footsteps would let them know that she was an adult now, able to make her own decisions. Their time of making decisions for her was over. She wanted control over her own life.

Gwen’s parents, Dr. and Dr. Marsh, had been good to Gwen from a financial standpoint. She never wanted for anything, but otherwise, she felt they had failed her. Gwen’s early childhood was a stream of day-care workers, most of whom she could not remember. And from the age of eleven on, she was a typical “latchkey” kid. She could only remember a few times that she truly felt her parents understood her, only a few times that she could remember coming first in her parents’ thought process. When thinking of her parents, though, her focus always turned to the times they failed her. There were times when she would allow herself to wonder if she had failed them, but those times were few. Somehow, nursing that resentment against her parents made her feel better about herself.

Now it was her turn. She found a job in the city, found an apartment that she could afford, and settled down into adulthood. What she quickly realized was that adulthood was even lonelier than childhood. At least in childhood, though she had few friends, she always had people around her. During the day, she had classmates and teachers, and in the evenings, she had her parents and her parents’ visiting students. Not that they paid much attention to her, but they were there. They were voices not coming from a TV. It was the illusion of being part of a group. Gwen had always known at some level that it was indeed just an illusion but didn’t fully admit it to herself until the groups were gone.

Now during the day, Gwen was surrounded by coworkers. She was working at a CPA firm and didn’t mind working long hours. Tax season was great—she was expected to work a minimum of ten hours per day. Though she didn’t admit it to herself, she liked being part of a group; she could tell herself that she wasn’t lonely.

She hadn’t had any close friends in years. One of her coping strategies for rejection was to reject the other person first. So in general, Gwen was a class A bitch whenever possible. She purposely came off as arrogant and condescending. After the first few weeks, no one at the CPA firm went out of their way to chat with her. If a group of employees was standing around chatting, as soon as they saw Gwen heading their way, the group quickly dispersed. Gwen pretended not to notice. If she thought too much about this, it was painful, so instead, she found fault with everyone she met. “He’s a moron.” “She’s an airhead.” “Those boobs are fake.” “She’s just a slut.” If she didn’t like the person, she wouldn’t want to make a friend out of them, and if she didn’t try to make a friend, she didn’t get rejected.

Her bosses quickly realized that she was a great accountant. She got a lot done in record time with perfect accuracy, but she was not a good person to put in front of clients and not a good person to put on a project with colleagues, so Gwen did most of her work alone in her cubicle. She would listen to the voices and conversations around her. She would pretend that she was part of the conversation, and in her mind, she would answer questions or respond with witty comments, making her coworkers laugh, sometimes correcting them when they were wrong but always commanding attention with her brilliance and insight. In Gwen’s imagination, she was a beloved and integral part of the firm even as she looked down on and criticized her coworkers at every opportunity.

Evenings, however, were lonely. No one ever came to visit. Actually, the only time another human being had been in her apartment was when her parents helped her move in. Her phone rang once a week, every Thursday evening, 7:00 p.m. sharp, when her mom called to “check in.” Every few times, Gwen would just let the phone ring so that her mom would think she was out. Other than that, the phone never rang, and Gwen never picked it up to call anyone either. She had no one to call. Her evenings were spent either watching TV or reading—reading mostly. That made for long evenings, and she started to fill the time by drinking. Cocktail hour started the minute she walked in the door and ended around eleven or twelve when she finally fell asleep.

Eventually, that routine lost its appeal, and Gwen decided to try going out. She lived near Fells Point, a part of Baltimore that had a bar every few steps. She chose one a few blocks away because she had seen an advertisement for it that referred to the pub as a “dimly lit tavern.” If the lighting sucked, she could blend in.

As she was preparing to go out, Gwen examined herself in the mirror. There was nothing she could do about her beady eyes; her fat, flat nose; or her nearly nonexistent lips. But her color was pale. Turning her face from side to side, she wondered if she should run to the drugstore first and get some blush, maybe some mascara and lipstick, just to give her face some color.

*****

Gwen thought back to the one time about eight years ago at the age of fourteen when she had purchased makeup. She had noticed the other girls at school wearing makeup and how pretty they looked. She wondered if makeup would make her pretty too. She didn’t want to buy the cheap stuff either. She wanted to go to the department store, to the brightly lit counters where beautiful young women let you try different colors and brands, helping you to find just the right one. When Gwen got there, she pretended to be examining merchandise on nearby racks and just watched the ladies working there and the customers they served. They were all pretty. The women sitting in the chairs trying different colors, looking at their altered faces in the small mirrors, they were all pretty. Not one of them was ugly. Gwen felt that if she approached that counter, they would all wonder what she was doing there. She imagined one of them saying, “Oh sweetie, there’s nothing we can do for you.” Gwen left the department store and walked to the nearest drugstore where she purchased mascara, blush, and lipstick. She remembered buying neutral colors of blush and lipstick. No red for her. She wanted color; she didn’t want to stand out.

After her purchase, Gwen had hurriedly walked home. She wanted to get there before her parents got home from work. Entering the house, she ran upstairs and emptied her new cosmetics on her bedroom dresser. She stood looking at them for a bit, unsure how to begin. Her mom didn’t wear makeup, so she had never had that mother/daughter experience where the little girl sits and watches her mom primp. It just didn’t happen. Gwen decided that the best thing to do was to start with a clean face, so she carefully and thoroughly washed her face. Once it was dry, she started with the blush. She tried to mimic what she saw at the department store and brushed upward along her cheekbone, adding a touch of mauve to each cheek. She stood back and looked. Not happy with the results, she washed her face and tried again. It took a few tries to get the color just right.

Once her cheeks were right, she applied the mascara. She found this to be a bit easier. She had steady hands, and the mascara ended up where it was supposed to go. She did get a dot or two on her eyelid but quickly cleaned that up with a Q-tip. Lipstick went on next. The color was just enough to show that she actually had lips. She stood back and examined her reflection in the mirror. Not beautiful, but almost pretty, she thought. She brushed and examined her shoulder-length hair. It was just a mousy brown color, no real highlights. She had bangs, which she brushed to one side that day. She put her hair behind her ears, pulled it out, and put it back, trying to decide which was best. She finally decided that behind her ears showed off the color on her cheeks. Finally content with the results, she sat on her bed and waited for her parents to come home. She was too excited to read or do her homework or watch TV. She imagined her parents commenting on how pretty she was and oohing and aahing over her makeup.

When she heard her parents come through the front door, Gwen waited. She wanted to make her grand entrance at dinner. While waiting, she would look in the mirror every few minutes, excited to see the difference in her face—her cheekbones stood out, her eyes popped a little bit, and her lips looked feminine. She was very excited for her parents’ reaction.

When finally called for dinner, she calmly strode into the kitchen and took her place at the table. Dad looked up briefly, but if he noticed anything different about her, he didn’t show it. He was rambling on about something that happened that day with a student. As Mom served dinner and listened to her husband, she looked at Gwen, and Gwen could see a look of surprise on her face, but she said nothing for a bit. It wasn’t until about halfway through the meal that Mom said, “I see you have makeup on, dear.” That was it. There was no “My, don’t you look pretty!” or “You did a great job. It really looks nice.” Not even a “Don’t you think you should wait until you’re older?” There was nothing other than an acknowledgment that she was wearing makeup.

“Yes, Mom, I do.”

Dad did look a bit more closely at this point, but only muttered a “Hmmmmmm.” That was it. Gwen did her best to hide her feelings, to hold back her tears and not show her parents how hurt she was. Immediately after dinner, she ran to the upstairs bathroom, washed her face, and threw away the makeup she’d purchased only a few hours before. She had not bought any since.

*****

Sighing, Gwen shrugged her shoulders at her image in the mirror. It is what it is, she thought. She brushed her teeth and hair and was ready to go out.

Gwen exited her apartment and headed to the pub. This was new for her. She didn’t know how to act and felt a bit out of place walking among the partying yuppies of Baltimore. She kept her head down and literally plowed her way through groups of people to get to her destination. She was completely immune to the calls of “Hey, watch out, bitch” or the sarcastic “Excuse me” from one particular woman. Gwen had a biting tongue and knew she could bring anyone of these assholes to tears with just a few words, but she didn’t really have the energy to retaliate tonight. She was feeling a bit down and just needed company.

Gwen sat at the end of the bar for a good two hours. She did a lot of “people watching” that night, critiquing pretty much everyone else in the place. She noticed a small gaggle of young men who looked her way every once in a while. Finally, the tall one of the group headed her way.

He came up behind her. “Hey, can I buy you a drink?”

Gwen turned and looked up at him, ready to send him packing with a quick insult but was stunned by his good looks. “Sure.”

He sat down next to her, ironically enough the only open barstool in the place.

“So what’s your name?”

“Gwen.”

“Whatcha drinkin’?”

“Bud Light.”

Tall and Handsome, as she immediately nicknamed him, ordered them each a new beer, while Gwen took a closer look. He looked like a model—tall, broad shouldered, muscular, clear skin, thick wavy strawberry-blond hair, and bright-blue eyes.

“All these Barbie dolls here, what are you doing talking to me?”

“Why wouldn’t I talk to you?” He looked at Gwen with an amused look.

“Please, I have a mirror.”

“You sell yourself short, Gwen.”

“Bullshit.”

Tall and Handsome just laughed and lifted his glass for a toast. Gwen lifted hers as well. Why? This was not her normal response to anyone who spoke to her. Maybe because he was so darned handsome, or maybe because he talked to her like a human being. Either way, they chatted for a bit. He was an insurance agent (though later, she doubted any of what he said had been true), lived outside the city, came from a large family, graduated from Penn State, yada yada. Gwen did more listening than talking.

Finally, after about twenty minutes, T&H said, “Wanna take a walk? I need a smoke.”

“Sure,” replied Gwen as she slid off her barstool. She followed her new friend out the door. She didn’t notice the group of guys who had been with T&H high-fiving one another as the pair exited the bar.

They walked for a bit. He lit up and puffed his cigarette. Gwen didn’t smoke and declined his offer to partake. He chatted; she remained silent. Gwen noticed that they were heading toward the parking garage but didn’t mention it, though her defenses were immediately raised again. She silently scolded herself for letting them down at all. As he chatted amicably on about who knows what, she considered her options. Do I go with this guy, or do I tell him to fuck off? Clearly, he’s just trying to get in my pants. Do I care? She took a good look at her companion. Maybe I just want to get in his pants, and then I can tell him to fuck off. That scenario appealed to Gwen. She looked at him again. What are the chances that he’s really into me? Slim to none. That last thought was accompanied with a slight sigh. Meanwhile, she nodded and smiled at what she hoped were the appropriate times.

The pair entered the garage, and Gwen followed her new friend into the elevator. “Hey, let’s go sit in my car a while. It’s a bit chilly out here.”

How stupid does this guy think I am? she thought, but replied, “Sure.”

They rode the elevator in silence. As they got off, he looked around and then said, “Do you get high?”

“Why? Do you need to be high to get in the car with me?”

T&H laughed. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that? If you tried being nice once in a while, you may not have to spend your nights sitting alone.”

“What makes you think I spend my nights alone?” Gwen glared at him, waiting for a response. Part of her knew he was right. She knew that her social skills sucked, to put it mildly. Usually, she could blame everyone else, but every once in a while, in her weaker moments, she knew it was her.

He looked at her a minute, shrugged, and said, “You’re right. I just met you. I don’t know a thing about you.” With that, he pulled out his keys and clicked. The lights on an Audi a few spaces away blinked.

Typical yuppie car, she thought. “Nice car.”

“Thanks, I like it. Wanna get in and get a closer look?” He waited for her to respond and could tell she was torn. “I won’t bite, I promise.” T&H flashed a perfect smile, and Gwen, without answering, headed toward the passenger door. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He knew he had her.

He didn’t follow her and open the door for her, but that was okay. Gwen didn’t expect it. They both just silently got in the car and sat looking forward. Gwen made her decision on how to proceed.

T&H turned toward her and said, “Well, what now?” That was when Gwen threw herself at him. She lunged over the center console and planted her lips right on his, grabbing his crotch at the same time. Either he would push her away or take advantage, she wasn’t sure which. If he pushed her away, she would apologize, blame it on the alcohol, and hope he understood. If he didn’t, then she had the upper hand.

He was definitely shocked, but it only took him a second to get into it. The entire debacle lasted less than ten minutes, and most of that time was spent trying to get into a position that worked.

When it was all over, they both sat back, trying to catch their breath. Gwen waited for him to speak. He’s over there figuring out how to get me out of the car without causing a scene, she thought.

After a minute or so, he said, “I really should get back.”

“Well, that was a disappointment,” said Gwen, as she pulled on her pants.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I just thought that a man your size would be…you know…bigger.”

Not knowing how to respond, he just looked at her for a minute. “Are you kidding me? You beady-eyed twat with your pockmarked face, fat ass, and saggy boobs, you’re complaining about me? You should be thanking me for even speaking to you.”

And there it was. If she had been surprised at all, she may have broken down at that point, but she wasn’t surprised. Disappointed maybe, but not surprised. “Sorry, little dick. I just call ’em as I see ’em.” She opened the car door, got out while straightening her clothes, turned back to him, slowly for effect, and said, “Have a nice life.” Closing but not slamming the door, she walked away. He did not follow, but as she walked away, he rolled down the window and yelled, “I only talked to you to win a bet, bitch. You just earned me fifty dollars.”

Gwen kept walking, lifted her hand in the air, and gave T&H the finger, held that for a few seconds, then changed the gesture to one where her thumb and forefinger were just an inch apart, reminding him of her disappointment.

Once alone in the elevator, Gwen leaned her head against the wall and sobbed. “A bet. A fucking bet! I was just a joke.” She stood up straight and wiped her tears before the elevator door opened. “We’ll see who the joke is.”

She went back to the bar and walked right up to the table of T&H’s friends. She stood there looking at them, enjoying the looks of confusion and worry on their faces. Once she knew she had their full attention, she said, “I just wanted to tell you that your friend has the smallest dick I’ve ever seen. I mean seriously, I couldn’t feel a thing.” The men all burst out laughing as she turned and left. T&H was on his way in as she was on her way out. Resisting the urge to lash out at him, she simply nodded in his direction and kept on going, enjoying the laughter that continued as the door closed behind her. She knew that now they were laughing at him.

That was her last attempt at making friends.

About two months later, Gwen realized she was pregnant. A week after that, she lost her job for cursing at a client over the phone.