Chapter 3

“Chris ... Chris...”

Chris looked up and saw Roger standing near his bench. “Sorry -- didn’t see you.”

“What’s so engrossing?”

“Oh ... Carmen sent me her new column.”

“The one on Bangkok?”

“Yes -- that one. It’s really good. I hadn’t read any of her stuff before. Carmen has a unique talent.”

“Yeah,” Roger replied, “with her syndicated column, web advertising revenue and radio spots, she makes a good living. Good enough for her lifestyle, that is. I’m sorry I popped off at you like that the other day. It’s just ... I care a lot for my sister.”

Gee, Chris thought, Roger says he loves her but he never misses an opportunity to diss her. “We have something in common, then,” Chris replied. “I care a lot for her, too.”

“I spoke to Carmen. She told me she really does like you.”

“I really like her.”

“She also told me that she’s a big girl and capable of picking her own friends and I need to butt out.” Roger paced back and forth. “I will honor that request.” He let out a sigh. “Well ... I introduced you to her so I guess I get part of the blame.”

“And, part of the glory,” Chris replied. “Now that her column is done we’re getting together tonight.”

“What are you doing?”

“I invited her to my place. I’m making my world-famous lamb curry.”

“She doesn’t like spicy food,” Roger replied.

“I know she doesn’t. I’ve taken it into consideration. After dinner we’ll watch a movie.”

“How’s she getting to your place?” Roger asked. “She doesn’t drive.”

“I’ll pick her up and drop her off. I know she doesn’t have a driver’s license.”

“She doesn’t have any photo ID ... not even a passport.”

“That’s something,” Chris remarked, “a travel writer without a passport. She told me her illness left her disfigured.”

“That’s right.”

“How?”

Roger regarded him. “I think you’d best learn that from her.”

Chris nodded. “Yeah ... I’m sure she’ll let me know when she’s ready. It won’t matter to me. Hell, she could have a prosthetic leg under those granny skirts of hers and I wouldn’t care.” He tapped the top of his head. “In here is where the person lives. Everything else is skin deep.”

Chris sat on his sofa beside Carmen, holding her hand. He slipped his arm around her shoulder. She leaned toward him and he tilted his head to avoid colliding with the wide brim of her hat.

The film concluded. Chris picked up the remote and ejected the disc. “I enjoyed that,” she said.

“Do you watch many films?” he asked.

“No. I don’t even have a television. I used to but when they converted to digital a few years ago I never bothered to upgrade.”

“You could’ve obtained a converter box. My mom still uses one and is happy with it.”

“I think you need to watch films with someone.”

“Oh, I agree completely.” He picked up his car keys. “If you’re ready I’ll give you a lift home.”

“I’m not really ready but I know you have to be up early in the morning.”

“Yeah, the burden of regular employment. I envy you, Carmen -- being able to set your own hours.” Chris escorted her to his car and opened the passenger door. Carmen held her hat and ducked through the doorway. He sat behind the wheel and started the engine.

Carmen took his hand and held it. “Dinner was delicious,” she said. “When you said you’d make curry, I envisioned something too spicy for me. It wasn’t hot -- it was flavorful ... aromatic. You’re an excellent cook.”

“When it comes to the kitchen, I’m a one-trick pony. You said you couldn’t eat Sichuan, so I toned this down a bit.”

“I appreciate that you listened ... and remembered.” She lifted his hand to her lips. “You are very sweet, Christian.”

“Do you mean that literally or figuratively?”

She giggled. “Both, I think.”

He parked in her driveway and escorted her to her door. “Thank you for another lovely evening,” she said.

“I had a great time, too. Do you have another deadline coming up?”

“No. All I need to do is to turn my article into a script for my radio segment and record it.”

“So -- can we get together this weekend?” he asked.

“I think so. I’ll give you a call.”

“Okay ... Well -- good night, Carmen.”

“Good night,” she said. She opened her door, then she turned and gave him a little wave.

Chris watched her door close and heard the bolt being thrown. He sat behind his wheel, started his engine and headed back to his apartment.

Chris’s phone rang and he picked it up. “Hello?”

Christian -- it’s me ... Carmen.

“I recognized you. Did you get your radio segment finished?”

Not quite. Just some finishing touches. I wanted to ask a favor of you.

“Go ahead.”

I have a disc. It’s from my college days. It has some photographs that were on one of the campus servers. Before I left I requested them on disc and this is what they gave me. My laptop can’t read it. I was wondering if you could help.

“I’ll be glad to take a look at it.”

Maybe you can come over at noon? That will give me time to record my radio segment.

“Today’s Saturday. I was going to go to the laundromat but that can wait.”

I have a washer and dryer. Bring your duds and we can wash them here.

“See you at noon.”

Chris carried a laundry basket to the front door of Carmen’s bungalow. He rapped on the door. She answered in her granny skirt, puffy blouse and wide hat. “Come in,” she said. “The washer and dryer are in the basement.” He followed her downstairs and stuffed his clothes into her machine. “You don’t separate darks and lights?” she asked.

“Never bothered -- takes less time this way.”

“But your lights will be all dingy.”

“I’m a dingy sort of a guy.” He started the machine and followed her back up the stairs. “Now -- let’s see this disc.”

She handed him a plastic case. He opened it, removed the disc and examined it. “Hmm ... Are these photos really important to you?”

“They have become important to me. I had almost forgotten about them. Now I’d really like to have them.”

“Well ... I might be able to help you out. How about if we make a deal? If I can recover these for you, you will agree to go out to dinner with me. Like I said -- I know a place that’s quiet and dim.”

“I don’t know...” She turned her back and pondered. “All right. It’s a deal. If you can recover them, I’ll agree to go out with you.”

He handed her the disc. “You wait right here.” Chris dashed out to his car and retrieved a case. From it he took his laptop and powered it up. “The disc, if you please.”

She handed it back to him. “Do you have some special program to read these? Roger thinks it’s either corrupted or maybe was never finalized properly.”

“Well -- Roger is an excellent marketing guy. However, he’s not what I would call a technological heavyweight...” He slipped the disc into his drive. “Just as I thought.”

From a pocket in his case he removed a thumb drive. He slipped it into the port and executed a quick format. Then he copied files onto it.

“Here,” he said and handed her the thumb drive. “All recovered.”

“That looked so easy,” she remarked. “How?”

Chris ejected the disc and held it up. “This is a DVD-RAM,” he said. “They were popular some places in the late nineties and early noughts for data backup. They’re faster and more reliable than a standard re-writeable DVD.” He held it to the light of her desk lamp. “Do you see these shiny flecks?”

“Yes...”

“That’s the hard-sectoring. You need a special drive and special drivers to read one of these. Your laptop is old enough that DVD-RAM drives weren’t standard issue.”

“Yours is new enough?”

“I insisted on it. A DVD-RAM drive can handle all other media as well. So -- do we have a date?”

“It depends,” she said.

“Depends on what? I thought we agreed.”’

“It depends on what happens next.” She slipped the thumb drive into her port and reached for her mouse.

“Carmen -- your hands are shaking.”

“I know. I am scared shitless ... but here goes.” She brought up images. “This is me ... before I got sick.”

He saw photographs of a tall, medium-built young woman with long, dark hair. “I recognize you -- from my dreams.”

“Yes. I think we establish a mental body image and that stays with us. This is how I think of myself. Your avatar was younger, too.”

“I guess I see myself as an eternal seventeen-year-old,” he replied. “You’re very pretty ... you look good in a bathing suit.” He saw another image of her with a young man. “Who’s that?”

“That’s Brian. We were engaged. Then I got sick. He called it off ... after he saw me ... saw what the disease did to me...” She pressed her fist to her lips. “He wanted nothing more to do with me.”

“Oh, Carmen ... You’re better off rid of him. He couldn’t have loved you to do that. What about the vows -- for better or worse and in sickness and health. What would he have done if you had been paralyzed or lost a limb?”

“I know. I realize the truth in that, now. At the time it hurt so much. On top of everything it’s what drove me to thoughts of suicide.”

“I think a person’s real self is inside. That’s where true beauty lies.”

“I knew you’d think that.” She faced him and he could see her steeling herself. Then, she lifted her hat and held it at her side. “This, unfortunately, is the real me.”

Chris regarded her. He recognized her round face with high cheekbones, her fine, straight nose and her dark brown eyes.

He tried to suppress his surprise. She was bald; in fact she had lost her eyebrows and lashes as well. “Carmen!” he exclaimed.

“You find me loathsome -- repulsive,” she said, pressing her fist to her lips. “I know you do.”

“I find you nothing of the sort.”

“I could see it in your eyes.”

“No. What you saw was surprise ... and relief. This isn’t what I anticipated. You said you were disfigured ... not bald.”

“I AM disfigured in my eyes.”

“I was bracing myself for ... for something worse ... Maybe one eye bulging out or missing, or a lump on your forehead ... skin grafts that didn’t take properly ... A Quasimodo effect or maybe Phantom of the Opera. You’re gorgeous, Carmen ... striking in a very unique way.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I am not. I mean it.”

“I had such pretty hair,” she sniffled.

“Yes, you did. You also have a very nicely formed cranium.”

His remark made her laugh despite herself. “Lucky for me, I guess.”

“I guess. You were a beautiful woman then and you are beautiful, still. Tell me how it happened. How could some infection cause you to lose your hair?”

“The doctors told me it’s an auto-immune condition. As to what triggered it they can only speculate. It might have been the stress of the infection or a side effect of antibiotics they were using. I had been out of the coma and off the respirator for about a week. I was still very feeble, but the doctors thought I would benefit from going home. I was home for a few days and my hair started coming out in handfuls.”

“It must’ve been horrifying for you,” he said.

“Words can’t describe it. Brian saw me when I was about halfway through the process of losing it all. I had large bare spots on my head and half of an eyebrow. He was strangely distant ... he didn’t hug me or kiss me. Later I learned he wanted the ring back.” Her lip quivered and she fought back tears. “He couldn’t ask me for it in person -- he was so disgusted with what he had seen.”