Bambi
That night, with the makeup rinsed away, the numerous hair products shampooed out, and two new outfits ironed and ready to go, I lay in my bed and stared at the ceiling. It was the same ceiling I had seen my entire life. In fact, there was very little of my room that had changed. Sure, the frilly pink bedspread had been replaced by a dark purple comforter, and the frilly dresses in the closet had been replaced by sweaters and jackets, but I still knew this to be the bedroom of my youth. Like most little girls, I had spent hours in here pretending I was a princess or a movie star. But there had been plenty of other times when I had imagined I was the president of the United States, a scientist, or a chef. I made my own little cooking shows in front of a toy camera, adding invisible ingredients to my triple-layer cakes and explaining how to make the frosting nice and fluffy. I had pretended that I wrote the books on the little pink shelf, gladly signing copies at the fictional bookstore in my mind. There had been more to me once. I’d had dreams. I wondered where those dreams had gone.
I hardly slept that night. Though my belly had not gotten very big yet, it was already uncomfortable to sleep on my stomach. I flopped from one side to another, never quite comfortable no matter if I stretched my legs out, curled them up toward me, or put a cushion between them. My pillow was too hot or too cold. The worst part was that I didn’t even feel tired, but I knew I had to get some sleep in order to prepare for the interview the next day. I wanted to argue with Mother about it and tell her I wasn’t going to do it, but I knew even without trying that she would never accept my refusal. I would just have to find a way to turn the tide in my favor.
When the sunlight pushed through my curtains and cast bright streaks across my comforter, I went ahead and got up. I made myself two fried eggs, a piece of toast, and a banana. If nothing else, I would make sure my baby got all the nutrition it needed, even if I wouldn’t be able to give it anything after it was born.
Mother stumbled into the kitchen an hour later, her makeup smeared across her face and her hair in curlers, to find me staring out the kitchen window over a cup of coffee. “I see you’ve changed your mind,” she remarked with a smirk. “Coffee isn’t good for babies.”
“It’s decaf.” I didn’t turn to look at her, and I curled my fingers tighter around the handle of the mug. I kept my focus on our backyard, watching the birds swoop through the trees as the sun rose higher in the sky, marking a passage of time that I couldn’t feel. “It was in the back of the cabinet from the last time Grandpa visited.”
“Oh well. Just don’t have more than a cup. It’ll stain your teeth.” She swept past me in her flimsy nightgown and retrieved a box of sugary cereal from the cabinet above the stove. “So, the reporters had originally asked to come by this morning and do a recorded session, but then they called back the other day and requested we do it live on the five o’clock news. You know, create a bigger story out of it. Of course, I told them they could. That way they can’t cut out any parts of our interview, and I want to be sure I have a chance to say my piece. They don’t think the people notice when they omit parts of the story, but I know it.”
I took another sip of coffee. It was nice and hot, and that seemed to be the one thing that made me feel better, and despite Mother’s wishes I was already on my third cup. I didn’t respond.
“That should give us just enough time to get the house all cleaned up,” she continued. “I want you to take care of the kitchen. I plan to have them do the interview in the living room in front of the fireplace, but I plan to invite the reporters and the cameramen to have a cup of coffee or a glass of tea. And I already called the young man down the street and asked him to come give the front yard an extra trim this morning. No doubt, they’ll take a few shots of the front of the house, and I want everything to look immaculate.”
I frowned. The house was clean, just as it always was. The only thing to really be taken care of were the few breakfast dishes in the sink, but I was sure Mother would insist that I dust every shelf and knickknack. As for the living room, there hadn’t been a fire in that fireplace for years, but Mother would use the mantel to show off her old photos. There was always an agenda.
“Once we’re done, we’ll do our hair and makeup and get dressed. We haven’t had this much attention around here since you won the crown. I know I’m excited. Aren’t you?” She sat down at the table and began crunching loudly on her cereal.
“Mm.” I made a noise just to keep her from jumping down my throat. I finished my coffee, set the mug in the sink, and wandered down the hall to the linen closet to find the cleaning rags. I did as Mother asked and cleaned every square inch of the kitchen, working languidly. I couldn’t have cared if the interview was done in a hovel, but I would never hear the end of it from her if a single speck of dust happened to show up on camera. All of this was my fault, and I had to do everything she said to keep her happy. I just wondered what I needed to do to make myself happy.
The news van showed up right on time. Mother had brushed and curled and dabbed at me until I once again looked like the beauty queen she had worked so hard to turn me into. Instead of wild braids and ponytails that became ratty in the wind, I had soft, full hair that caressed my shoulders. Gone were the dark eyeshadows, heavy eyeliner, and deep shades of lipstick that suggested I was far more feral than I was. Instead, my lips were dapped with a pale pink gloss the color of a baby’s cheek, and my eyes had been enhanced and contoured with shades of soft gold. I didn’t look at all like the woman who had ridden on the back of Snake’s bike and spent so many nights making love to him in random hotel rooms.
In some strange way, as I dressed myself and put on my shoes, I found that I missed him. He had made a mistake when he had turned me into a bet, but at the same time he had been kinder than Mother ever had been. Still, it didn’t matter. I had no idea where he was now. I indulged myself in a horrid fantasy of him picking up some chick and taking her off into the sunset on his motorcycle. He probably didn’t even think about me anymore.
Mother had positioned a wingback chair in front of the fireplace, and this was where she positioned me as the reporter came in the door. She was a woman in her late twenties, her dark hair sprayed into a helmet around her head and her suit jacket perfectly ironed. She smiled at me with perfectly white teeth as she held out her hand to shake mine. “Clarissa Thurston for Action News 12. It’s so nice to meet you. I covered your story when you were missing, and I have to tell you, it was such a boost to my career! Everyone was desperate to get you back.”
“Thank you.” I wasn’t sure what else to say, but it didn’t make me feel any better that this stranger was using me just as much as my mother was. She didn’t really care about my story; she just wanted to talk about me on television so that she could someday be promoted to anchorwoman.
Mother shoved her way between us and took the woman’s hand. “Monique Bidwell. I believe we’ve met before.”
“Oh, yes. Of course.” A faint look of discomfort passed across Clarissa’s face, but she quickly pasted it over with another newscaster smile and turned to the cameraman, who stood just behind her with a heavy piece of equipment on his shoulder. “Are you ready, Marty?”
“Hold on, just a second!” Mother dashed around behind the chair to arrange my hair once again, and she scrutinized my makeup carefully before she turned back to the news crew. “Okay, I think we’re good to go now.”
Clarissa smiled at me. “I’ll just be asking you some simple questions about your life over the last few months. Remember to just relax, smile, and pretend the camera isn’t even there.”
Marty cleared his throat and began pushing buttons on the camera. “All ready for the test run.”
I should have been comfortable there in my own home, but there was nothing comfortable about it. The pantsuit my mother had stuffed me into was cutting in at the waist, and the shoes pinched my feet even when I was sitting down. She’d had the chair reupholstered recently, and though the fabric was pretty, it was extremely scratchy. Somehow, with just a reporter and a cameraman focused on me, I felt as though the whole world was watching. Mother’s frantic gestures from behind them reminded me that it really would be.
Cold sweat clung to my skin as I tried to focus on the reporter, who smiled at me enthusiastically. She was no doubt thinking of the ratings she would get once the interview aired. “Let’s do a quick test run. We just want to see how well the camera picks up your skin and make sure your voice can be heard well. Do me a favor and just state your full name and spell it out for me. That’s how we make sure the technicians don’t goof it up when they do the chyron.”
“I’m sorry. The what?”
Clarissa laughed lightly. “The chyron. That’s what they call the little bar of information down at the bottom of the screen. Sorry, I need to learn not to use news lingo all the time.”
“Oh, I see!” Mother jumped in. “Like when they put someone’s name on there and explain what an important person they are to the community!” She waggled her over-plucked eyebrows at Clarissa. “You can have them put that in there, can’t you?”
“Um, that will be up to the producer, I’m afraid. I’m sure he has something very nice in mind, though.” She shifted uncomfortably on the folding chair that had been set up across from me.
“But can’t you call him and ask? Don’t you think it’s important to know these things ahead of time?” Mother gesticulated wildly, getting agitated with the young newscaster for not being as on top of things as she would have liked.
“I assure you, they have everything covered back at the station. Also, we only have so much time before we have to go live. I’d really like to make sure we’re running smoothly so we don’t have any mistakes.” Clarissa patted her hair with her fingertips and adjusted the microphone clipped to her lapel. “Now, then. Bambi, go ahead with your name.”
“Bambi Bidwell,” I said obediently. “B-A-M-B-I B-I-D-W-E-L-L.”
The reporter turned to the cameraman. “Let’s have that on playback.”
Marty pushed a few buttons. Though I couldn’t see the video, I could hear the audio. Clarissa’s voice came through loud and clear, but there was nothing after that. The cameraman shook his head.
“Let’s get you a mic,” Clarissa suggested as Marty reached down into a bag at his feet and handed her a tiny little device. “Put it on your jacket, and then just run the battery pack down through and around behind your back. It might be easier to take your jacket off while you do it.”
I nodded and accepted the mic. “Excuse me for a minute.” There was really no reason for me to go to the bathroom to do this task, but I felt as though I was exposed enough already. Besides, if I unbuttoned my jacket in front of the news crew, it would be obvious to them that I was pregnant. I preferred to let them know about it on my own time.
I threaded the wire the way Clarissa had asked and paused to look at myself in the mirror. I leaned on the bathroom counter, bracing my palms on each of the front corners, and angled myself toward the mirror until my nose almost touched the glass. “You can do this,” I whispered. “It won’t be that bad. Just smile and get it over with, and then you can work on finding a way to keep this baby.” With a deep breath, I opened the door and went back down the hall toward the living room.
“We’re going live in two minutes,” Marty announced. “Stand by.”
“The city is going to just eat you up,” Mother promised, wiggling with excitement.
“In five, four, three, two …”
Clarissa’s face instantly transformed into a likable mask for the camera. “We’re live in the home of Bambi Bidwell, following up on her now that she has returned safely to Myrtle Creek. You already know her as our Peach Festival Queen, and we’re here to see how she plans to fall back into the role. Bambi, it’s good to have you with us.”
My mouth had gone dry, and the wire from the mic felt as big as a garden hose. “Thank you.”
“First of all, tell us a little bit about the time that you were gone. For a few weeks, nobody in Myrtle Creek knew where you were.” Clarissa had a serious face on now, and she leaned forward slightly as she waited for my answer.
I cleared my throat. “I took a little road trip with a friend of mine. After winning the crown, I felt a lot of pressure and I just needed to get away for a little while.”
“Where did you go?”
I shrugged and forced a smile. “Nowhere special. We just drove around, sometimes without a real plan as to where we were going at all. We ate at whatever little diners popped up alongside the road, and we never had any reservations for a hotel. There was a certain amount of freedom in it that you just don’t get in regular life.” My smile was no longer a fake one as I reminisced on my time with Snake. It had been wonderful to forget about everything for a while. I didn’t have to worry about attending any events or making my hair look pageant-ready. Most of all, I hadn’t had my mother hovering over my shoulder and constantly judging me.
Snake might not have wanted to let me leave, but I could see now that he had been right. Mother’s grip on me had always been as strong as iron, and it was impossible to break free of it on my own. He knew that I would never get away from her again, and he had wanted to protect me.
Most of all, he hadn’t ever judged me. Snake had taken me for what I was. I had been adapting to his lifestyle because I wanted something different, not because he made me. If I had insisted that we eat steak dinners or that I dressed in clothes fit for the country club, I didn’t think he would have stopped me. I had misjudged him completely on those points, and it made me wonder what other things I had been wrong about.
“The rumor was that you had been kidnapped,” Clarissa said, bringing me back into the moment. “Is any of that true?”
Mother was standing next to the cameraman and just over the reporter’s shoulder. She clamped her lips together, and he eyes shot daggers at me. We had known this question would probably come up, and we hadn’t quite agreed on how to handle it. Mother, of course, had given me her final comments on it after we had finished cleaning the house. “Trust me, Bambi. I know how these things work,” she had said as she once again straightened her photo on the mantel. “Go with what we talked about.”
Her idea, of course, hadn’t been accurate. She had told me to claim that while I had gone with Snake willingly, I hadn’t realized the extent of his control over me. As time passed, I began to understand that he had used my naivete against me and basically gotten me to kidnap myself. If the question of charges was brought up, I would simply state that I had decided to take it as a lesson learned and move on with my life. Of course, I would be sure to use my position as Peach Festival Queen to educate other young woman against such dangers.
“Now, don’t get me wrong,” Mother had stated. “There’s nothing that would please me more than to have that scumbag dragged down by the police, thrown in prison, and forgotten about. But my attorney told me the trial would never work unless you agreed to cooperate. As much as I’d like to think you would do your duty as my daughter and testify against him, I have a feeling you would flake out and it would just cost me a lot of money. I think going this route will be a better tactic for us.”
Clarissa was waiting expectantly for my reply, and so was the rest of the county.
I smiled again. “I made the mistake of not making my intentions clear. It was a spur-of-the-moment trip, and I didn’t give proper notification to those closest to me. It was a silly oversight, and it’s one that I will be sure never to make again.”
Mother threw her hands in the air and turned toward the window. She clutched her hands to the side of her head, ruining her hairdo. When she finally turned back to me, her eyes were blazing. I would have my hands full once the interview was over. I doubted she would ever let me hear the end of it, since I had let Snake off the hook.
“So the rest of us can sleep soundly at night knowing that we’re safe from this man you were with? Rumor has it he’s a biker, part of a gang called the Warriors. I think most of us remember that they were in town for a little while during the Festival. A mass of bikers sounds pretty scary to me.”
“They’re nothing like you imagine.” I kept my focus on her instead of Mother’s antics behind her. I shook my head to negate the idea that the Warriors were bad guys. “There are a lot of them, and they certainly look intimidating. But I spent a decent amount of time with them, and I think we all have a lot to learn from the Warriors.”
Clarissa raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“Well, for one thing, they always have each other’s backs. They kid around like any other guys do, but they’re truly good friends. Everyone is always taken care of. The Warriors are like a giant family, except that they travel around instead of living in a big house. It was also a wonderful opportunity to see that no matter how we look or dress, we’re all still people inside. It was an eye-opening experience for me, and I’m glad that I did it.” Secretly, I wondered if there was a chance Snake was watching the interview. What would he have thought if he heard me talking about him and his men like that? Would he be flattered? Insulted? It didn’t really matter, since I knew I would never see him again, but I amused myself with the fantasy.
“How has it been for you now that you’re back home? The police brought you back to your mother’s side, so I know there must have been some hardship for you.” Clarissa sounded so sympathetic, but I knew she didn’t really give two shits about me and my hardships.
Mother was pacing now, and I couldn’t help but see it. The light was coming brightly in the front window, and her constantly moving form cast repeated shadows across myself and the reporter. I had pissed her off beyond all measure. It was the kind of thing I had always avoided, but I now understood something I never had before: Mother’s urge to control me gave me power over her. I wished I had understood it a long time ago.
“What you have to understand,” I replied, “is that these days everyone is interested in the drama. Everyone wants the wild, crazy part of the story, even if there really isn’t one. There were some misunderstandings, but everything is fine. I’m happy to be back in Myrtle Creek, and I have plans to continue my work as the Peach Festival Queen. I’ve neglected the citizens of this town for too long.”
“Tell us about some of the events you have coming up.”
“Well, I understand there are several ribbon cuttings within the next few months, so of course I’ll be attending those. Also, I plan to make a few appearances in the local elementary schools. In between my appearances, I’ll be taking some college courses. I’m still exploring all my options, but I’d like to major in English and creative writing.”
Clarissa’s eyes widened with glee. “Fascinating! I don’t think any of us knew you were a writer.”
Now Mother leaned against the windowsill and pressed her hand to her heart. She gave me a desperate look. This was killing her, but I knew she would get over it eventually.
“I just dabble a little bit here and there right now, but I’m very interested in pursuing it as a career. It would afford a great opportunity for me to reach out and communicate with not just the people of our town or our county, but the world. I feel like I have a lot to say, and becoming a writer would be a great way to say it.” It was a dazzling answer, the kind a Miss America contestant would give. It was also the kind that was going to send my mother through the roof. She would have to let me go to college now that I had said on live television that I wanted to.
“Now, Bambi, for the question everyone has been waiting for. As we’ve touched on, there are a lot of rumors surrounding you and what you’ve been doing over the last few months. One of the biggest is that you’re pregnant. Would you care to enlighten us on the subject?”
I touched my stomach softly, and the strangest sensation washed over me. I felt powerful and happy, like I was a completely different person than I had been before I ever met Snake. “I am, indeed, pregnant.”
Mother watched me expectantly, but I said no more. I wasn’t going to claim that he raped me. It was flat wrong, and it would give everyone the wrong impression. Furthermore, it would refute everything I had claimed about the Warriors.
“Yes, and there’s something else she would like to add about that,” Mother said, speaking loudly enough I was sure the camera picked her voice up without a mic. “Go on, Bambi. Tell them.”
The reporter looked slightly irritated at the interruption, but she watched me with a fervent hunger in her eyes.
Suddenly, that odd sense of power I had felt only a moment ago drained away. I had let myself imagine that I could do what I wanted in this interview, and that since it was on live TV there wasn’t anything Mother could do about it. What I had stopped thinking about, though, was how miserable she would be to live with afterwards. We wouldn’t just argue about it and then let it go. As soon as the news crew was gone, her hold on me would descend once again.
“It’s okay,” Clarissa said gently. “You can tell us.”
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell them what Mother wanted me to. I couldn’t lie to them, and not just because of any moral impulse. I couldn’t let the world think Snake had done such a terrible thing to me. My eyes wandered up toward the ceiling, studying one tiny little cobweb that Mother had missed, and I just couldn’t stand it anymore. Any of it. I didn’t want to think about being forced to lose my baby or the fact that Mother would find a way to make it happen. I didn’t want to think about the fact that I had no idea where Snake was or what his true intentions had been. I didn’t want to imagine what my life would be like when this interview was all over with.
I stood up and ripped off the mic, dropping it in the chair. “Excuse me. I need to get some air.” I went toward the front door.
“Bambi!” Mother hissed as she ran forward to intercept me. “Sit down and finish the interview! You’re embarrassing me!”
“I can’t do this right now,” I choked out. I flung open the door and stepped outside. The day was bright and sunny. The man down the street had done a wonderful job on the front yard, making it look amazing, as though a happy little family lived here. The front door, painted a brilliant red, matched the roses that bloomed on either side of it. Mother had gone to great lengths to put up a façade for us, a show that would trick everyone into thinking we lived a completely different way than we did. She had worked so hard, but in the end she had nothing, and neither did I. A tear slid down my cheek and plopped onto the concrete patio, making a dark splash.
A rumbling in the distance pulled my head up. I knew I couldn’t really be hearing it. It was only part of my dreams, a fantasy that had come to tease me. My days with Snake were over, and I wouldn’t be a free woman until Mother died. As mean as she was, she would live forever. The sound I heard was just the highway in the distance.
But something shiny came around the corner and down our street. I watched with shock, still convinced I was hallucinating. I recognized the set of the handlebars and the angle of the front forks. I knew the sound of the engine like the beating of my own heart. Most of all I knew the man who sat on that motorcycle. His dark hair, the green bandana that barely held it back, the twisting tattoos on his arms, and the small quirk of his mouth as he pulled to a stop in front of my house. There was no question anymore. Snake was here.
I was only vaguely aware of the front door slamming open as Mother came outside, followed immediately by Marty and Clarissa. The cameraman was catching the whole thing.
“Bambi! You get in the house right now, young lady! You’ve been very rude to these nice people, and I won’t tolerate it any longer!” Mother pressed her lips together so hard they turned white, and her fists were curled at her sides.
I ignored her, stepping slowly down the stairs and out toward the curb. Snake lifted his sunglasses and set them on his head. His eyes said everything, and I took another step.
“Bambi! Get away from him! He’s dangerous! Do I have to remind you that we’re on live TV? Come back here and finish your interview!”
The world was watching, and I didn’t care. In fact, I was glad they could see this. I was about to change my life once again, morphing it back into the one that I wanted. They would understand beyond a shadow of a doubt that I hadn’t been kidnapped this time.
Snake held his hand out to me. I went to him, reaching my fingers out. My heart leapt through my arm, and sparks danced against the tips of my fingers. Snake took my hand in his, and his warmth melted the cold wall of ice that I’d worked so hard to build around myself ever since I came home.
“I missed you,” he said, just loudly enough that I could hear him over the throbbing sound of his engine.
“I missed you, too.”
“Let’s go.”
I had no choice but to obey him. I could have turned and run back into the house, but I would never have been happy. I needed Snake, and I knew now that he needed me. I swung my leg over the back of the bike and wrapped my arms around him, leaning happily into his back. Snake revved the engine, sending a rattling vibration up through my knees. I turned to the small gathering on the porch, giving them a beauty queen wave and a dazzling smile.
Mother’s face was red as she stood on the edge of the porch, yelling and raging. I could no longer understand what she was saying, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t ever say anything that would bring me back. Marty was still filming, following us with his camera as Snake moved off down the road. Clarissa stood just behind Mother and Marty, jumping up and down and waving, her white teeth flashing in the sunlight. At least one person was happy for me, even if that was mostly for her own sake. I waved back, continuing to do so until we were out of sight of the house.
I studied my hometown carefully as we headed toward the city limits. It was possible I would never see it again, and I had to be okay with that. There would be some things I would miss, like having everyone know my name when I walked in a store or the way the town suddenly came to life when it was time for the Peach Festival. There were good things about Myrtle Creek, but I was leaving one very bad thing behind. I held Snake a little tighter. He reached down to where my hand rested on his abdomen and rubbed the back of it reassuringly as we went past the last gas station on the edge of town and headed east.