My Name Is Venus Black(49)
Of course, part of the issue is that I’m terrified of being discovered as Venus Black. But even worse than being recognized, I fear being known. I’m almost positive that if I date Danny, one thing will to lead to another—until it won’t. Because I can’t bear to have the tender, secret parts of my body exposed to the light of a man’s gaze. Like a starfish belly-up on the beach, I’d shrivel and die.
Which means I’d eventually hurt Danny worse than I just hurt him now. In time, he’d discover that I’m not unlike the planet I’m named for. At a great distance, Venus is beautiful, the brightest of stars in the sky. But what NASA discovered when they orbited her is that she’s actually an inhospitable planet, a boiling cauldron of poisonous gases.
Come too close and you’d fry.
When Christmas comes around, I convince Piper I don’t need a gift and tell her I’m not giving her one, either. But, of course, I hide a new Barbie under the tree at the last minute.
Recently, Piper has lost interest in tormenting Smelly Shelly and wants a Barbie instead. Personally, I don’t like Barbies, because when they are naked, even without genitalia, they make it so you can’t help but think of sex. Once when I was young, a girl came over with a Ken doll and wanted to play nasty. I never played with her again.
Christmas morning, Mike is sick and can’t join us. “The flu,” he says from his bed. “All I want for Christmas is some Pepto-Bismol. I like it cold, so it’s in the back of the fridge.”
So Piper and I open presents alone. Piper is ecstatic about the Barbie. I make her promise to keep Barbie dressed.
And, of course, Piper has a present for me, too. It’s a Polaroid instant camera—“So you can take pictures of me!” she announces. I can tell she’s not even joking.
“Remember when I told you to take a picture because it will last longer?” she asks.
I smile and nod.
“Well, now you really can!” She literally grabs the camera from my hand and loads the film. “Uncle Mike showed me how,” she says, handing it back to me. Obviously Mike was in on this gift and must have given her the money, too. It couldn’t have been cheap, and I feel bad that I didn’t buy him anything but a Bruce Springsteen album.
Piper sits in front of the rather pathetic Christmas tree. “I’m ready now!” she declares. I raise the camera and frame her in the tiny window. Her lips are slightly blue, her single front tooth looms large, and she’s wearing the new Christmas nightgown she got from Mike, which she opened last night. “C’mon, Annette! Hurry up!”
I snap the shutter, and then we both watch as the black film slowly slides out. We lie on the floor and lean over it, waiting for Piper to emerge. Gradually, she comes into focus.
“You’re so pretty, Piper,” I tell her. “Merry Christmas.”
She quietly studies the picture for a long time, which makes me wonder if Mike—working at Olan Mills, for God’s sake—has ever taken her picture. Watching her stare at her ten-year-old self, I get a lump in my throat. I hope she never has a reason to shy away from cameras, hope she’ll always feel confident and beautiful.
Piper spends the rest of the morning ignoring her new Barbie and taking pictures of me with what is supposedly my camera. At one point, for fun, I pull out my braid and shake my hair loose and wild, which delights Piper no end. I kneel down on the ground and let Felix play with my hair. Piper tries to do the same, but her hair doesn’t interest Felix as much as mine.
I wear my hair down like that for the rest of the day, reveling in the familiar feeling of having it loose. We force Mike to open his gift from Piper and me from bed. We dance around all morning to “Born to Run,” laughing.
Between Piper taking pictures of Felix and me and asking me to take more pictures of her, we waste a whole package of film.
* * *
—
NOT SURPRISINGLY, DANNY never comes back. When Piper grills me about him, I finally admit that I told him I couldn’t go on any more dates.
“But you like him!” she squeals.
“I know. You’re right that I like him. It’s just that…” How can I explain to Piper that I’m screwed up when it comes to guys?
“What?” she wails. “Why? How could you be so mean?”
It’s a good question and one that I’ve asked myself. But somehow I hadn’t expected Piper to be so upset about Danny. Then again, I hadn’t expected to be so upset myself, either. The whole thing is only made worse by the abrupt, stupid way I handled it. I know I hurt his feelings and probably embarrassed him, too—and he must hate me now.
Ever since it happened, my mood has grown dark. The days are so short—it’s dark by four-thirty now. Plus, I am more and more at a loss about how to keep Piper both entertained and on task with schoolwork. Meanwhile, I worry about how close we’ve become. What will happen when I want to move on? Clearly she thinks we’re some kind of family. Sweet but scary.
At times, I debate calling Danny to apologize, but I can’t see how to do that without changing my position. I’m sorry I dumped you so rudely, and by the way, I still can’t go out with you.
Sometimes the stupid irony of my situation is just too much. I begin to practically drown in my sadness—only to get angry at myself, because it’s all of my own creation. It’s no one’s fault but mine that instead of having a boyfriend to possibly plan a future with, I have skipped right to being a pseudo parent to a bratty fourth-grader.