Lady of the Rings
by Brandy Dewinter and Ellen Hayes
(All rights reserved)
Chapter 13 - I Will Survive
Build 3
"Mommy, look at the princess!" yet another squeal screeched out.
I'd heard that at least fifty times already this afternoon. Plas-
tering yet another plastic smile on my face, I turned to the family
headed my way.
"Hello." Let the smile do most of the talking.
"Are you really a princess?" This girl was probably five, with huge
dark eyes that would be real heartbreakers when she grew up. That's a
good age for this, by 8 or 9 they're telling me that I wasn't really a
princess but this kid wanted to believe.
Glue knees together, tilt toward side, hold skirt, dip those knees,
hold that back straight ladies! This could be an aerobics class if they
could ever find enough idiots who would wear the silly costume. All of
the kids that were worth talking to, were too short to talk to standing
up.
"What's your name?" I asked her. Let's hear it for Jane, or Sally,
or Mary, please!
"Ashley," she replied. Oh, God, not another precious trendy
name. Well, who was I to talk?
"Well, Ashley, in a circus lots of magical things can happen. Girls
become princesses sometimes. Maybe you could even be one." Fight to
keep at least a little inflection in the voice.
"Really?" she gasped. Now that was surprising. Her eyes actually
managed to get even bigger.
"At least while you're still here in the circus," I promised. Not
much of a promise, but then, I wasn't really much of a princess.
"Ask her to sign your program, honey," said the standard issue mom
standing behind her.
The little girl, Ashley, offered me a sticky program; half spilled
coke and half smeared cotton candy. Still, in the tally board I was run-
ning in my mind this one went into the category of no mustard. They must
not have hit the hot dogs yet. I managed to keep it away from my skirt
and signed with the rounded flourishes that seemed more appropriate for a
girl's handwriting.
"What does this say?" she asked, turning the program around to try
and read it.
"It says, 'Circuses make dreams come true. Hope your dreams are
happy ones, Princess Isolde.'"
"Is that your name?" she asked, and I could hear the question
machine cranking up. No, kid, that's the name of the horse.
I just nodded to try and let the conversation die. It wasn't going
to work, but little Ashley's questions had created another problem that
was going to override her questions anyway. A crowd had started forming
when they saw a costumed figure actually interacting with rubes, pardon
me, customers, oops again, guests.
Standing in a crowd had to be done carefully. I'd had my panties
exposed a couple of time already when I stood up too quickly and found
that someone had been standing on my damn skirt. So I clutched my skirt
and stood to face the dozen or so people who had gathered, even as
Ashley's next question was swallowed up in a multitude of requests for
autographs.
Let's see, mustard. No mustard. No mustard. Mustard. Lots of
mustard. No mustard, ketchup doesn't count. Mustard.
That wasn't usual so I glanced around quickly and saw I had stupidly
let myself get stopped too close to the hot dog stand. Sarah was going
to kill me if I got more mustard stains on this dress. She thought I was
doing it deliberately, and I might have until she told me she'd make me
wear my show costume while she worked on this one. Now I had an incen-
tive to keep it merely sweaty and so I slowly walked my way further from
the source of contamination.
Just then a cup of coke hit the front of my dress. At least this
time it was only about knee high. The dark color would keep it from
showing too badly until I turned the costume in to Sarah again at the
end of the day.
Run away, kids, and join the circus. You won't believe how much
fun it is.
It was hard to believe that a week had passed since I had gotten the
first ring. The first couple of days of that week had been a whole lot
closer to hell on earth than I had ever wanted to experience. The
brightness of all the colors and the intensity of all the smells, espe-
cially the ones that weren't real, had given me a perpetual headache.
All that was insignificant of course, next to the gut-tearing cramps of
my first ever menstrual cycle. Andreas was going to take a long, long
time to die.
That thought was most of what kept me going through that godawful
week. The realization that other women had survived this over the years
was no damn comfort at all when another part of my insides was wrenched
out to dribble on to my pad. About the only effect that realization had
was to make me swear at apples as a part of all the other swearing I was
doing. Damn that Eve and the snake she rode in on.
I survived. I survived so that I could kill Andreas. I survived
because I couldn't accept that I wasn't man enough to cope with pain that
Kim and Sarah and Amber and lots of other girls I knew seemed to take in
stride. Hah, there's a laugh. I *wasn't* man enough to handle the pain
anymore. I just had to be woman enough, instead.
I even learned to cope with the damn tampons. The first time I had
to stick one of those things up inside my body, I thought I'd puke. The
whole idea was incredibly gross. Then, when I felt the string hanging
down I did get sick. But I didn't hurl. I was still cleaned out from
the effect of putting on the ring and there wasn't anything left to bring
up. Even dry heaves from my tortured stomach couldn't match the cramps
from my period, anyway. But the show must go on, they say, so I got
dressed in my obscene show outfit and did my part.
I was not a happy camper, but some sort of psychic grapevine kept
Amber or anyone else from crossing me for the first couple of days and
after that I was more in control of myself than out. I worked out a lot
of anger with my staff in my morning katas. Every morning, now. I never
slept late when my guts were spilling out through my . . . don't go
there.
So even as my body got through it's own corner of Hell, my skills
with the staff got better. And my skills with wearing girl's clothes.
The Colonel's idea that I had to wear the princess costume when I wasn't
in my show costume meant that I had to learn to do my makeup well enough
for relatively close examination by the rubes. Did you know that once
you commit to wearing makeup, you have to keep touching it up all through
the day? I felt like I spent half my life primping.
Eventually the bleeding stopped and I was back to normal. (Normal?
Hah!) One day, as though this were a good thing and would make me feel
better for God's sake, Sarah had insisted that I come to her trailer for
a new hairdo. Oh, dear me, could I stand such happiness? She washed my
hair and then put about nine thousand rollers in it. Of course, Kim had
to help. That was almost good news since they chattered to each other
nonstop and I didn't have to take part in the conversation.
When they were done, though, I had to admit it looked better. If it
hadn't been my hair, and if I hadn't had to sit through the pulling and
twisting and yakking and whatever else they did. I mean, if I had just
seen it on some girl, I would have thought it looked nice. They did a
smooth sort of thing that hung fairly straight but curled under near the
bottom. A page-boy, they called it. When I wore the dunce cap with the
flowing pennant thing it looked sort of right, somehow. If it had been
on someone else, I mean.
So now, when I wore the princess costume I had to put up with make-
up, and with putting curlers in my hair after I washed it. If he hadn't
given me a big raise and if I didn't need the job so bad, I'd have added
the Colonel to the list of targets right behind Andreas. But I survived.
I learned to avoid the hot dog stands with their mustard and learned to
smile even when I was hot and tired. I learned to keep plenty of fluids
handy to replace the sweat that heavy outfit sucked right out of me. Did
you know that the latitude of Europe is the same as that of Maine? This
style was not compatible with Florida in May. However, the alternative
was my show outfit and with that as my choice, I stuck with the princess
costume, returning it every evening to Sarah to wash for the next day.
So there I was, a week after I got the first ring, trying to make my
way past the hot dog stand, when I met Annie Oakley. Or was it Calamity
Jane? Actually, it was Kimberly, who had managed to talk Sarah out of a
classic cowgirl costume. Not a practical, working ranch costume with
jeans; Kim wore a longish fringed skirt that probably wouldn't even work
with a side-saddle and had two six-guns flapping on her hips.
"Wahl, little lady, ya shore do look cute," I snickered.
"Watch it, princess, or I'll shoot you where you stand," she threa-
tened. Then she made good on the threat by drawing one of her guns and
squirting me with water.
"A little lower, please, that's where the worst stains are," I
suggested.
"Oh, I know. Can you believe how grimy some of these kids get?"
A simple nod was answer enough. I twirled my finger to get her to
turn around.
"Not bad. I've seen some worse costumes. Sarah sometimes gets some
pretty strange ideas," I mused.
"Have you seen Amber's costume?" Kim asked with a twinkle that said
I was really gonna like this.
She hardly waited for me to shake my head when she continued.
"Amber didn't want to do the extra costume bit at all. She thought she
could just claim to be practicing all the time on her act or something.
But when Vasily got his Spiderman costume that excuse ran out. The
Colonel told her that she had to find something to wear besides her
trapeze outfit. By that time Sarah had handed out most of her costumes."
I saw where this was headed and the grin on my face probably didn't
earn me any brownie points in heaven. "Do go on!"
"Well, you know how all the costumes, besides the show costumes, are
supposed to tie in to one of the rides or something?" she grinned. Of
course I knew, and she knew that I knew. She was just drawing it out to
tease me. But I let her have her fun and just waited.
"The only thing that Sarah had left was a mouse costume!" Kim
shrieked with laughter. "Sarah said it applied to the Wild Mouse kiddie
coaster, and I guess it does, but the costume makes Amber look like a
Disney character, except stupid. The eyes are crossed, and the tongue
hangs out a little. It's soo precious!"
I could just see it in my mind, but that wouldn't do, wouldn't do at
all. I resolved to go find Amber at my first opportunity. I'd be sure
and tell her she was soo precious, just like Kim reported. We laughed
so hard as we walked along that our throats were hurting before we got to
our amusements, Kim at a shooting gallery, and me at the 'round.
A little later I got a break and headed over to the Wild Mouse.
There she was, sweating in a costume that had to be even hotter than
mine. When I got closer I could hear her arguing with a six-year old,
which is a pretty good definition of a waste of time.
"Look, kid," the voice coming out of the costume was definitely
Amber's. "Don't pull on my tail."
"Mickey let me pull on his tail," the boy declared with petulant
determination, meanwhile trying to snare it again.
"Then I suggest you go find Mickey and pull on his again," Amber
snarled. Well, it might have been a snarl, but the tones got distorted
coming out of her mask and the stupid grin on the mouse's face kept her
from sounding very tough.
She tried to just start moving away, but the kid started following
her. She started moving faster and so did the kid. The last I saw of
them Amber was going about as fast as her long mouse feet would let her,
with the kid snatching at the tail bobbing behind her costume with every
wiggling stride.
I was toying with the idea of following her, just to make sure she
was okay of course. Right. But I was due back on the carousel so I
just let my mind fill in the blanks on what came next. Unfortunately,
Amber's precious costume didn't make mine any cooler. I was almost
grateful when the time came for the evening show and I had to change from
the long skirt into my skimpy, but much cooler, show costume.
Almost.
The show went of without a hitch. Tom and the dogs earned their
usual applause and I tried to look inconspicuous. Not that anything
about that damn costume was inconspicuous. By the time we got the dogs
cleaned up it was late enough that there wouldn't be time to put my
princess costume back on before we closed down, so I just put on some
jeans and went to see if I could help Jim. He had things pretty well
under control and for once I actually had a little time to myself.
With nothing to do.
No books, no flying holodeck, no robot sensei to kick my butt.
I was too restless to go to sleep, yet too physically tired to
practice my katas. So my feet just wandered around aimlessly, waiting
for my mind to unwind.
"Bree, what are you doing here?" I heard Kim's voice call.
"What, huh?" I responded glibly.
"Is something wrong, Bree?" asked Kim.
"No, uh, just out for a walk," I answered, looking around to see
where I had gotten. My aimless steps had taken me near the horse shed,
not a surprising place to find Kim, but not a typical place to find me.
The horses had been busily turning feed into fertilizer, a fact I didn't
need my new senses to discover.
Kim leaned a pitchfork up against the stall she was in and walked
over.
"So, what are you doing tomorrow?" she asked.
"Tomorrow?"
She laughed and pretended to knock on my head, "Hello, in there!
Tomorrow is Friday. Payday! And no matinee. Why don't you come into
town with me?"
Most of my first pay had gone to Sarah to cover her loan to me, and
to the girls in the trailer who had loaned me stuff to get started. Most
of my second had been consumed in getting the rest of the clothes I had
needed. Now I had shower sandals, and a couple of pairs of shorts, and a
couple of cooler shirts. Oh, yeah, and I had replenished the feminine
hygiene supplies I had so recently consumed. Boy, I sure enjoyed doing
that. Especially the part about how it reminded me that I would need
them again.
I wasn't particularly interested in just shopping for it's own sake,
and I for damn sure wasn't going to go buy more clothes that I didn't
really want. That seemed to be most of what Kim went to town for. She
had been more than happy to accompany me when I went looking for the
stuff I needed. I could see in her eyes that now she thought it was time
to go look for things I didn't need.
I suppose that recognition that she had taken the time to help me
made me fell guilty or something. She had invested a lot of her free
time to get me on my feet. A bit of my free time to give her some com-
pany was not an unfair price. So I nodded my head.
"Great!" she gushed. Just like Sarah couldn't seem to speak without
a smile, Kim couldn't speak without enthusiasm. "Jim already told me he
had found an excuse to get a truck. We can leave about 9:00."
I just nodded again. In some sort of perverse joke of the cosmos,
her bright energy had made me as tired mentally as I was physically and
it seemed almost too much effort to walk all the way back to the trailer.
Maybe it was wishful thinking, but I hoped that I might sleep in the next
morning until time to get ready to go, so I took a shower that evening
and even put some rollers in my hair like they had shown me. That way I
didn't have to take the time to get it fully dry, and didn't have to
spend the time in the morning to get it right. Some of the girls had
those hot roller things and could get ready in the morning, but for me it
was prepare the night before or look stringy. I knew Kim would look pert
and fresh and disgustingly cute, so I just had to make some effort to
keep from looking totally sloppy.
I guess my premonition was right, because the next morning started
about three seconds after my roller-bound head hit the pillow. Kim was
shaking me and competing with the sun for brightness. I'd have hit her,
but she was moving too fast. Or I was moving too slow. Whatever, I used
my energy to get ready to go instead.
Jim's errand that provided the excuse for the truck led us downtown
instead of toward Kim's beloved mall. Since I was just there to keep her
company it didn't really matter to me where we went. It turned out the
area we ended up in was not the best part of town, not really seedy, but
given to dusty little shops with dusty old merchandise that the proprie-
tors couldn't afford to unload with below-cost sales.
And then I saw something that wasn't dusty at all. It seemed to
catch the light like a diamond mirror, almost too bright to look at. I
pulled up abruptly and stared through the window.
Kim just kept walking along for a moment, her chattering uninter-
rupted by the loss of an audience. Then she realized I had stopped and
turned around.
"Bree?"
"I need to go in here," I told her, already moving.
The bright shine in the window was a flute. I was sufficiently
paranoid that I saw Andreas' hidden hand in anything that looked even
slightly coincidental, but right then I didn't care. The little shop was
a pawnshop or consignment shop or something like that because everything
was used. The flute was a thirty-year-old Haynes, but it was in good
condition. The pads had obviously been replaced, but that was good. I
wasn't after an antique, I was after a flute I could play. Or, I guess I
was after one. I hadn't even considered buying one but this one had
certainly caught my eye.
Part of what had made it so bright was that it was colored golden
instead of silver. That didn't make any real difference in how it
played, but it did make it less suitable for a band or orchestra setting.
This flute had been used by someone who liked to play by himself, not
part of a group. Imagine that.
"Andreas, you old bastard. Score one for you," I muttered under my breath.
"What did you say?" Kim asked. "Who's Andreas."
"What, huh?" I stammered. "Oh, um, he was an old teacher of mine."
At least that part was true.
It was too much money, of course. All that I had saved up wouldn't
be nearly enough to pay for it. With a glance for permission from the
proprietor, I fitted the parts together and started to play something
light and airy, pulling parts from half a dozen pieces to test the range
of the instrument. It was really, really good. Maybe part of that was
my pleasure in playing a flute again, but it felt so right that I had to
have it.
Yeah, right. Maybe I could make a deal where I could play it on
every other Tuesday or something. That's about how much money I had.
I started to take the flute back apart again to put it in the case.
"What's the matter, don't you like it? It's a good flute," the
proprietor protested.
"It's a *wonderful* flute," I sighed. I didn't need the brutal
self-truth the ring forced on me to hear the longing in my voice. "But
there's no way I could afford it."
"It's part of an estate sale and I got it for a song," he said, then
snickered at his own pun.
Kim laughed with him, but I was still caught up in a desire that
seemed even more impossible than winning my real body back.
"I would give every penny that I have for it," I whispered, "but
that's not near enough."
This time the tone in my voice must have registered with the man.
His face grew solemn as he looked at my hand trailing softly over the
pieces as I nestled them in to their case. I handed the case to him with
the reverence the instrument deserved, unable to stop another sigh from
heaving my shoulders.
"By a strange coincidence," he said softly, "every penny you have is
exactly the price."
It didn't register for a moment. I was actually still turning away
when his words sunk in. Not that I could believe him.
"What?" I asked, turning back.
"I think you heard me," he said with his own smile.
"I couldn't. I only have maybe $300. That flute is worth ten times
that amount."
"Nearer twenty," he countered. "But the price remains the same.
Whatever you have, no more, no less."
Then he continued. "I knew the man who used to play this flute. He
died about a year ago and I bought this flute from his daughter. She's
about your age. She even has dark hair about like yours. But she never
gave a flip about music. To her, this was just another bit of junk to
settle from the estate. I think it would make the old man happy to have
someone cherish this flute, like he always wished his daughter would have
done."
I just stood there with my mouth hanging open, unable to believe
what I was hearing. Kim came to my rescue.
"Mr, um, . . ?"
"Lowenstein," he replied.
"Well, Mr. Lowenstein, I think you've made a sale. Come on,
Brittany, start digging out your money."
I started fumbling through my pockets. Kim had a purse that she
seemed to have no trouble keeping up with, but I couldn't imagine lugging
the thing around all the time. So I just kept my money in my pockets
like I had always done. Well, almost. When I was in costume or whatever
I left my money with Sarah so that I wouldn't get it stolen. Not that I
didn't trust the other girls, but why take chances? Anyway, when we left
that morning, I had grabbed up the whole bundle rather than sort out
some specific amount. When I counted it out I had $324.48.
"Exactly right," Lowenstein grinned.
I couldn't say anything, just standing there with tears forming in
my eyes as I clutched my precious flute to my chest. I think he got the
message, though, because he smiled with genuine warmth and nodded to me
with a bit of respect for the love I had for music.
"Take good care of it," he ordered with mock sternness.
"Yes, sir. Thank you. Thank you very much," I finally made my
mouth reply. Kim tugged at my arm and pulled me out the door before
something spoiled the magic of the moment.
Magic was right. This was every bit as impossible as any other of
Andreas' miracles, but for the first time it had actually benefited me
instead of making my life more miserable. Confused doesn't begin to
describe my mental state, but Kim's mental state was as uncompromisingly
upbeat as always.
"Wow, that was incredible. Who'd have believed it. Well," the
ever-practical country girl continued, "I guess this means that I get to
pay for lunch. What are you hungry for?"
"Huh? What? Food?" I replied.
"Yep, that's what people usually have for lunch," she laughed. She
knew that I was still in shock so she was trying to jolt me out of my
fugue. It worked.
But then, I *had* missed breakfast."
"Kimmie, I can't understand how you can eat so much and stay so
thin."
"Look who's talking," she snorted. "Besides, riding horses is at
least as tough as your morning exercises, at least when Vasily isn't
bouncing your shapely butt around."
I looked at her face to see what she meant by that remark. In my
real life, I'd have been slobberingly stupid if a girl as pretty as Kim
even talked to me. Now, of course, it didn't mean anything. Right?
Whatever might have been in my mind, her mind was on food. Despite
our joking, the Colonel's idea of good food had rubbed off on both of us
and we passed up the fast fat joints until we found a yuppie salad bar
place. I made up some nearly-true lies about playing the flute until it
was time to go meet Jim for our ride back to the circus grounds. But
through it all a big part of my mind was trying to absorb a very dif-
ferent picture of Andreas than I had so confidently drawn.
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