My Name Is Venus Black(97)

It’s June 1, 1986, almost three months after my twentieth birthday.

The building I’m looking for is in downtown Sacramento. Even with a map, it takes me a while to figure out how to get there. But I don’t mind. I’m in no hurry.

I park the Honda in a large garage in the vicinity of the building. When I get out onto the sidewalk, the air is heavy and warm. I adjust my purse on my arm, walk slower. I check my underarms to make sure there aren’t sweat stains.

I cross the street to walk on the opposite sidewalk, where there is shade. I see my image in the windows of storefronts as I pass. I’m wearing a blue linen dress that falls just above my knees, along with huaraches. I think I look pretty. My hair is partly pulled back and clipped. I peek into a children’s clothing store. They carry a lot of cute designer clothing—stuff I’d like to buy Piper. I keep walking, knowing I should be getting close. I check the address numbers to be sure they’re getting smaller, not bigger. The building itself is unimpressive. A business building that houses dozens of different offices. I scan the reader board in the lobby to find the right one. Third floor.

An attractive man with pale curly hair is also waiting for the elevator. He nods at me, says, “Hello.”



“Hello,” I say. He’s already punched the UP button.

There’s a ding and the doors slide open. Once inside, the man punches number 4. “Three, please?” I say. He punches the number. He smells good. I look at his hands. They’re good hands. Clean. He’s holding a briefcase. Lawyer?

“Pretty day, huh?” he says.

“Yes,” I say. “But hot.”

“Pretty girl, too,” he says.

I look at him in surprise.

He smiles. “Yes, you.”

I blush, look down. “Thank you.”

When I step off the elevator, I’m met with a rush of cool air. The office I’m looking for is the second door down a long hall. It opens to a lobby decorated in a modern, fun style. Bright colors, smooth lines. Several pieces of modern art on the walls.

Behind a big peanut-shaped desk is a blond receptionist. She looks too glamorous for a secretary. I approach. “I’m looking for Anna Weir.” I didn’t make an appointment in case I changed my mind at the last second.

“Is she expecting you?”

“No, not really.”

“Okay, well, let me see if she’s available.” She disappears through a set of doors behind her and I nervously wipe my hands on my dress. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Moments later the receptionist returns with another woman. She’s dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt decorated with embroidery and sequins. She has light-brown hair, a broad, pretty face with no makeup. Her thick eyebrows make me miss my own. She’s thirtyish.

“Hi, I’m Anna,” she says, extending a hand. “And you are?”

I only hesitate for a second. “My name is Venus Black.”

Two hours later, I leave the office with a manila envelope tucked under my arm. I feel like I have made a new friend. I walk back the same way I came. This time, when I reach the children’s boutique, I duck inside. The air-conditioning is wonderful.



“I’m looking for something green,” I tell a saleswoman.

“Green?”

“Yes, something green for a girl with green eyes. She’s a girls’ twelve.”

“Well, let’s see….”

I follow her to a mannequin wearing a green dress with pink polka dots, a pink ribbon at the waist.

“I like it,” I say. “But it’s a little too fancy.” I can’t picture Piper in it.

“I see. Let me think.” I follow her to a more casual section. She pulls out a lime-green skirt I don’t like.

I shake my head. “Why don’t I just look around?”

She nods. “Let me know if I can be of help.”

I wander through the racks, pulling out an item here or there. I finally choose a green bathing suit. It is exactly the right green, a cute little one-piece.

I pay for the purchase and head back to the car. It is hotter now than it was before, and traffic is terrible, so I decide to wait out rush hour in a restaurant. Then I start on the drive back to Oakland.

When I get home, it’s almost nine, but Inez is still awake, lying on the couch in the living room, watching television. I sniff the air. Inez has supposedly quit smoking, but I don’t entirely believe it yet.

“Where have you been?” she asks. She uses the remote to lower the volume of the television.

“Did it go okay with Leo?” I ask. “Bedtime?” I casually glance around for a wineglass. I don’t see one.

“Yes. It went okay. And before I forget, Danny called.”

My heart does a little flip. I called him while I was still back in Everett. We had a very awkward conversation as I tried to apologize for my rudeness while at the same time scolding him for not telling me the truth—that he knew who I was. “Let’s forgive each other,” he said, as if it were that simple. And in a way it was. We went on a couple of chaste dates and talked our heads off before I moved away. We laughed a lot, too. We held hands once, and lo and behold, I didn’t die. Now we’re trying to do a long-distance friendship, but it clearly has romantic overtones. So far, I’m surprised how much you can develop a relationship over the phone. My new therapist says it’s a good way to make progress with my men issues.