As Easy As Murder

17. curls, girls, and pearls

The chairs in the waiting room of Loretta's neurologist's office are very uncomfortable. She begged me to come with her as part of our girl's day activities. 

We got our nails done this morning, mine black and hot pink with stars, hers a deep red. I tried explaining that a doctors appointment doesn't suit my idea of Sunday fun, but she is still afraid of going to the doctor alone, so it wasn't up for discussion. 

Numerous coughs come from around the waiting room, the worn chairs creaking and screeching, the sun shining in through the one small waiting room. I feel like I'm in a horror movie. 

A petite nurse calls us back, and I sit down in an equally uncomfortable chair as Loretta sits down on the examination table. Her doctor interrigates her, lecturing her a bit for not avoiding triggers like he advised. 

She gets weighed, stepping onto the scale. "Holy-this is your fault for being good at baking, Av." 

"No, it's your fault for being good at eating what I bake." I smirk, and she sticks her tongue out at me. 

I scroll on my phone, thinking about various topics, and you know the one I'm trying to avoid. The entire time we were getting our nails done, Loretta was bringing up Kori every other second. I was just trying to enjoy my pedicure, not ponder my future. And while other people's idols created music or movies, his created gravity. 

I look around the room while Loretta defends her actions, "I mean, If I'm drunk, how am I supposed to remember to avoid triggers?" 

"That's why I told you not to get drunk, Miss Cochran." 

"Touche." She huffs, crossing her arms. I snort, and both her and the doctor give me a dissaproving glance, just for different reasons. 

Doctor Riley continues to rip Loretta a new one about at least cutting down her drinking habits, and I read the same posters for the 9th time, now having memorized the location of my eardrums and how to stop someone from choking. 

Loretta gets her prescription, and does a 'yes' gesture. I give her a thumbs up, and she hops off of the examination table. We head out, and some guy in the waiting room is complaining about his weight, claiming he has a condition that causes him to not be able to wait. 

"Soo, after Walgreens, where to?" I ask as we get into my bug. Loretta shrugs, getting behind the wheel, and I buckle my seatbelt. 

"Oh, I got it!" She holds up an index finger, turning to look at me. "Antiquing." 


"Antiquing?" I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms, wondering why Loretta, notorious for spending all her money on the newest thing, would want to enter the land of dust and forgotten heirlooms. 

She nodded, "I'm a sucker for trinkets." 

That is true. Loretta's old room at home had shelves and shelves of kick-knacks, things she picked up on trips, things guys gave her, all kinds of little junk-drawer residents lined up, positioned in their own little spots. 

I shrug, "Sure. Why not?" 

So after picking up Loretta's saving grace and her having to repeat her last name 9 times, we got to the antique store, complete with half hanging off sign and no sign of human life. 

We get out of the car and look around, wondering how we could possibly still be in NYC and be in the land of tumbleweeds at the same time. We push open the creaky door, greated by a kind looking elderly lady knitting. 

We smile at her, and Loretta waves. 

Glinty of shiny decorations catch my eye, the variety of objects very intriguing, making me wonder their history and who's they were before. Loretta walks through aisles, running her hands over glass and marbel alike, ooing and ahhing at every little thing. 

"Hang on, hang on, I think I know how to reinvent myself," She gasps, picking up a hot pink sparkly jacket. I facepalm. Loretta is constantly trying to pull a Madonna. She's tried lot's of different style switcharoos, and it's never gone quite the right way. 

"Don't." I pick up a blue pair of heels that were shoved behind some old records. They're very tall, and god know's I need the boost. I sit down on the carpeted flooring, and slip the sleek heels onto my tight-covered feet. 

"Do these suit me?" I look up at her. She looks down. 

She shakes her head, "Uhh, no, you look like your car will turn into a pumpkin at midnight." 

I roll my eyes, standing back up. Having an honest best friend has it's perks, but god, does it have it's cons. I put my regular doc martins back on, catching a glimpse of myself in a very old, almost victorian looking mirror. 

My hair is frizzed up a bit, and my top seems to not sit quite right. Loretta notices my self-loathing, and comes up behind me. "It's the love effect." 

"Get out of here. The what?" I turn over my shoulder to look at her. 

"You're in love." She tips her hat. "My condolences." 

I scoff, "Yeah right." 

We continue to browse, various odd objects catching our attention. Peices of clothing are draped over old rocking chairs, chandeliers hang from the ceiling, items jam-packed to give an effect of maximalism, Renaissance paitings with eyes so realistic they appear gazing into your soul. 

A necklace made of hair makes me and Loretta both shutter, "If I die," She croaks. "Let me keep my hair." 

"Will do." I nod, making a note of it. We laugh and continue walking through the endless aisles, vendor names posted lazily on the tops of glass cases, the whole thing appearing almost uncanny, like a liminal space. 

Pearls are hung over a mannequin, and it reminds me of something Cheryl will wear. I smile as I remember the confidence that woman exudes. If I was in a dangerous situation, forget 911, I'm calling Cheryl.