Bambi

 

“Would you sit still? I’m never going to get this right if you don’t cooperate!”

 

I cringed and tried to keep my head from yanking back, but my mother was pulling too hard. “Can’t you comb that section out before you try to style it? The knots are killing me.” I shut my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see her frown at me in the mirror with her froglike lips and narrow eyes. Unfortunately, I also didn’t see the back of the brush as she brought it down to whack me on the back of the skull.

 

“Maybe you should be conditioning like I’ve told you to, and then it wouldn’t hurt so much.” She continued her styling, wrenching my hair into a curly up do that I could nestle my tiara in. “And quit complaining. We’ve got to get this just right before the parade.” She stabbed at my skull with several bobby pins.

 

“It’s fine. We already did this hairstyle for the pageant. I don’t see why we need to do it just for the rehearsal.” The two of us were set to be at the community center in less than an hour to go over everything we would need to know for the next day. The Peach Festival Parade was one of the biggest events in Myrtle Creek, and everyone in town would turn out to see it. There would be fire trucks, police cars, local clubs, scout troops, marching bands, baton twirlers, and antique tractors. Children would run out in the streets to scoop up candy, running gleefully back to their parents. I had to admit that even I was looking forward to it, even though I wasn’t very appreciative of my role.

 

“Bambi, you’re the Peach Festival Queen.” She said the words as though she was telling me I was the president of the United States. “The townspeople chose you because you’re perfect, and that’s exactly what we want them to see during the parade. Don’t you realize just how important this is?” Her eyes in the mirror were tearful and hurt, as though I had done something to insult her by not thoroughly enjoying my new position as queen. She grabbed a jumbo-sized can of hairspray and thoroughly fogged my hair with it.

 

I flapped my hand in front of my face and coughed. “I do, but I think we’re going a little overboard. I mean, I’m still just a normal person.”

 

Mother whipped me around in the chair in front of the dressing table so that I had to look directly into her eyes. They were a bright blue, and they glinted with anger at the center of decades of eyeliner that never seemed to wash off anymore. “Bambi Bidwell, don’t you ever go saying you’re a normal person! You’re my daughter, and you’re special! You’re the most beautiful, most talented woman in this goddamn county, and I won’t hear of you thinking otherwise!” She slammed her fist on the arm of the chair for emphasis.

 

I knew there was no point in arguing with her. “Yes, ma’am.” She had always pushed me, even when I was a child. There were trophies lining the shelves in my bedroom and leaking out into the living room that declared I was beautiful, talented, photogenic, and smart. Mother was never satisfied unless I was in first place, no matter what I was doing. I had even graduated as valedictorian from Myrtle Creek High School the previous year, but she wouldn’t let me out of her sight to attend college. I was her little puppet, a pretty doll that she forced to dance and sing.

 

“That’s much better. Now, let’s figure out that makeup. I think you should go with a brighter shade of lipstick for the parade. That light pink was nice, and it was perfect for the judges. They had to see you as sweet and innocent. But now that you have the title, I want to make sure everyone can see your features.” She pulled a tube of lipstick out of her massive makeup case and held my chin tightly as she applied it. “That’s much better. Now, about those eyes.” She folded her hands in front of her sagging breasts as she bent over to study every inch of my face. “Yes, I really think we need to go with the blue contacts.”

 

“They’re not comfortable,” I argued gently. “They dry out, and I feel like I have cornflakes in my eyes.” This wasn’t the first time we’d discussed the contacts, and I had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last.

 

She clucked at me as she reached for a tiny plastic case. “Bambi, you never do anything but whine. If it weren’t for me, you’d be a nobody right now. I just wish you had gotten my eyes, instead of those plain brown ones from your father. Still, we can make them look nice enough.” She came at me with the contacts.

 

I leaned back and blocked her with my arm, a move that was unheard of in our house. “No, I don’t want them. I can’t see anything when I have them on, and I’ll have even more trouble with them if I’m riding on the back of a convertible. Besides, I won the pageant with my plain brown eyes.” If it had been up to her, I never would have made it to the pageant without those damn contacts. She had insisted that I wear them, and I had agreed to avoid an argument. They had been conveniently misplaced the morning of the contest, but Mother had found them eventually.

 

She snapped the case shut with a resounding click and an even deeper frown than she’d had before. It accentuated the lines in her face, which multiplied regularly. “I suppose that’s true. But when the festival is over and your picture isn’t tacked up in every single restaurant and store in town, you’ll have to start making the transition to blue so we can get you ready for the state competition. You’ll be Miss America before you know it.”

 

My shoulders slumped. We’d had this conversation so many times, and it always ended with Mother practically in tears over her hopes for me. “I don’t know that I really want to go that route …” I began.

 

But she wasn’t listening. “You know, we could always have that surgery done. Then you wouldn’t have to mess with the contacts. I’ve been researching it on the Internet. There are some places that just use a laser to blast all the brown pigment out of your eyes, and then there’s another place that does some sort of implant to change the color. It’s a little expensive, but you won some money at the pageant and you’re only going to win more. I think we can make it happen.” She tapped her finger against her lips. “It’s cheaper in Mexico, so that’s always an option. We can make a vacation out of it.”

 

“Mother! Stop! I don’t want surgery!” I was horrified at the thought of doing it at all, and I certainly wasn’t going to have it done in a foreign country.

 

She scowled at me. “You say that now, but just give it time. Before you know it, you’ll be begging me for a boob lift or facial injections. I’d get them myself, you know, but I spend all my money on you.”

 

Here we went again. There was never an end to how much she thought she sacrificed for my sake. Her job at the hospital in the human resources department paid well enough, but she always needed something more. I decided this was the time to take up yet another old argument. “Then let me get a job. I can make money for myself, and you can spend your money on the things you want. I want you to be happy, Mother.”

 

She smiled, which was just an odd stretching of her lips. “That’s very sweet of you, dear. But you know we can’t do that. You have a busy schedule, and you have other obligations. You just let me worry about money.”

 

“But what if I’d really like to get a job?” I asked. “It would be such a good experience for me, and I’d probably make all sorts of business connections.” I knew that was one point she would like. Mother prided herself on all the people she knew.

 

That wasn’t enough, though. “Absolutely not. Let’s say you go get a job as a waitress. You’ll have men pinching your ass and staring down your shirt. And don’t think it’s any better if you work in an office. No, Bambi. There are too many awful people out there, and I can’t let you go out alone.”

 

She wouldn’t even let me go to the parade rehearsal by myself. I didn’t need her assistance. I had been to the Peach Festival Grand Parade every single year for as far back as I could remember, and I didn’t even need the committee members to tell me what to do or where to go. It wasn’t as though it was difficult to meet my driver at the right time and place, and then just smile and wave as we drove through downtown. Still, it was a big deal for our little town, and everyone was crowded into the community center to go over the details that afternoon.

 

Mother left me alone for only a few minutes while she schmoozed with the politicians who had been roped into participating, and I wandered over to the refreshments table where several of the other candidates were hovering. They spoke quietly to each other, but their glances became furtive when they saw me approach.

 

“Hey, girls. How’s the punch?” It sounded lame and I knew it, but I had to have something to say to them. Anything was better than, “Hey, sorry I totally kicked your ass in the pageant.”

 

Apparently, they were thinking that anyway. “It’s okay,” shrugged a short girl with curly red hair as she sidled a little further away from me.

 

“So, I guess you got your cars all lined up?” It was traditional for any pageant participants to ride in the back of a convertible, and each girl was responsible for arranging this herself. There were usually plenty of volunteers, though.

 

“Yeah, not that it matters,” said Kelly with a flick of her long, dark hair. She had been in the pageant for several years, and she always came in second. “Your mother had already gotten you the brand-new Camaro convertible from Nelson’s Auto Sales. That cherry red would have looked fabulous with my dress, but I’m stuck in some old blue car my dad’s friend has.” She shot me a rueful look as she popped a strawberry in her mouth.

 

I knew she resented me, both for winning and for the car, but I couldn’t help it. I wouldn’t have even entered the pageant if I’d had my say. “I’m sorry. I’m sure it won’t be that bad. And I think your dress would look fine against a blue car.”

 

“Not when it’s being driven by his creepy friend. He’ll probably be saying pervy things to me during the entire parade, and I’ll have to paste on a smile and pretend it’s okay. Thanks a lot, Bambi.”

 

“You know, I have to wonder how you won the crown anyway.” This was from Sandy, who stood tall and lean with short blonde hair. She walked up to me until she stood so close that she towered over me, her slanted eyes staring straight down into mine. “Who did you sleep with?”

 

Aghast, I took a step back. “I didn’t sleep with anybody. I just did my best.”

 

“Right,” she said with a knowing look over her shoulder at the other girls. “With a name like Bambi, you’ve got to be some sort of whore. I guess we’ll all get to see just how far this crown takes you when you end up dancing at Club Carnal for a living.” Her nasty laugh pealed throughout the room, and the other girls joined her.

 

I should have said something. My mother never would have let anyone get away with speaking like that, but I couldn’t seem to make my lips move. I was frozen in place for one horrifying moment before I finally turned and found a seat next to Mother just as the meeting was about to begin.

 

“I want to thank all of you for coming,” said Mayor Ward, smiling under his ample mustache as he studied the assembly. “My assistant is passing out some information that details where you’re positioned in the parade as well as where you’re supposed to wait until it’s your turn. As I’m sure you know, we’ll march all the way from 21st Street to 7th Street, and it’s going to be a wonderful event!” He droned on, talking about all of the accomplishments of the year’s grand marshal, an octogenarian who had attended every single parade since she was born.

 

Mother was captivated, listening to every word with her hands clutched in her lap. She would soak up the information in the hopes of being able to tell someone else about it later and sound superior. That was her usual motive, anyway, and I had no doubt that it was any different this time.

 

I turned to the long row of windows that faced Main Street. People roamed up and down the sidewalk with cotton candy and giant teddy bears, hauling home their souvenirs from the Peach Festival. Several blocks of the downtown area had been completely closed down so that rides, carnival games, and food vendors could be set up in parking lots and on side streets. Couples and families made the long walks back to their cars where they had left them in alleys and in front of stores.

 

Even though I knew it wouldn’t happen for me, I longed to be out there with them. I wanted to walk up and down the sidewalk and take in all the sights while I ate a big peach tart and spent far too much money trying to win a stuffed animal. But even though I was the Peach Festival Queen, I wasn’t allowed to head out with my friends. No, Mother kept me right at her side all the time. Secretly, I wondered what would happen if I simply stood up from my seat and walked out. Mother would follow me, but it would be interesting to see how far I could get before she dragged me back.

 

A roar sounded somewhere outside, and now everyone in the community center was looking out the windows. A group of motorcycles came charging down the street, pausing for only a second at the stoplight before moving on. They were big men with beards, leather clothing, and so many tattoos their original skin was barely visible. Seated close to the windows as I was, I could see them in such detail that I felt as though I was outside with them. My heart soared to see how free they were, how they could just glide off down the road and go anywhere they wished.

 

“Can you believe it? They shouldn’t let people like that into town,” said an old woman in front of me as she shook her head.

 

“Myrtle Creek used to be a safe place,” her friend confirmed, her white head bobbing. “Everyone’s so liberal these days, and we get rabble like this.”

 

One of riders paused a little longer than the others, and his face turned to the window. We locked eyes, and a thrill shot up from my feet to my throat. He was tall and handsome, his muscles sleek and lengthy as he held the handlebars of his ride. Just like any other biker, I knew he had to be a bad boy. He probably drank and smoked. It was likely that he was rude and mean, maybe even cruel.

 

But he was free. While I was stuck in here like a fish in a tank, he was riding towards whatever he chose. Maybe he was even riding away from something, but at least he was able to choose. He cranked the throttle and was gone, leaving a faint cloud of exhaust and the fading noise of the motorcycles. My heart sank slowly back down into my stomach, cold and heavy like a stone.

 

“Well, then,” the mayor said, eager to bring everyone back to the matter at hand. “Let’s get back to business. I would also like to thank Miss Bambi Bidwell, our Peach Festival Queen. She’s the definition of Myrtle Creek spirit and soul, and we couldn’t be happier to have her with us this year. Let’s all give her a round of applause, ladies and gentlemen.”

 

The roar of clapping around me did nothing for me like the sound of those motorcycles did. My cheeks burned, but not because I was embarrassed at the attention. All eyes were on me, especially those of my mother, but I could think of nothing but that sexy man outside.