Dry Heat

Tansy

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by Nicole Collingwood

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            I stare at myself in the mirror. I dig into my skin with my eyes. My right shoulder is slightly lower than my left, something my doctor said comes from scoliosis. She told me that we would have to watch it, to make sure my spine did not continue to curve and contort. I never returned to her, and sometimes I can feel it in the way that I sit, that my bones are edging me over in the wrong direction. My ribs are uneven too, leaving strange hollows where fleshy surface should be. I take my hand and feel the dent on the left side, running my finger along the sunken rib, then hooking it under. I pull it outwards until I’m afraid I may break it and let go, the pressure from my fingers leaving a red mark behind.

            My eye has been twitching the for the past week. I forget about it sometimes, and when I do it seems to forget about me too. but it always returns in the worst moments, like when I’m talking to someone, and our faces are close enough for them to notice. When this happens, I try to blink with more strength, hoping that the beating of my blinking eye lid will tire the twitch, tell it to stop. This doesn’t usually work. My eye is twitching now. I take a step closer to the mirror, pressing my hands against the cold surface, and leaning my head in, tilting it slightly to get a good look at my lower lid. It quivers, like static on a screen. I quickly press the base of my hand against my eye socket, smothering the tickling sensation. It fights beneath my pressured palm, and I begin to rub it, massaging out what feels like a worm crawling under my skin.

            An alert from my U-Watch rings through the air. The world lightens. I press the button on the side of the watch, a small hologram emerging from its surface. A new Tansy video has been uploaded. I put on my shirt and leave the bathroom, walking down the hallway to my room. My parents are watching the U-Screen in the living room, Titus Kappa is suggesting that they buy his detergent, Kappa Clean.

            I enter my room and reopen the holo on my watch, using it to turn on the screen that stretches across my wall. Tansy’s face is in the center of the screen, her bleached hair reaches the end of her ribcage. Her eyes are so rounded, bright and happy. She’s wearing a pink dress, tiny white bows attached to the shoulders. I motion for it to play.

            “Hi, everyone, it’s Tansy.” Her voice is always high pitched, but soft enough to remain calming to those who listened. “I’m so excited for my concert tomorrow night.” She pauses, “Are you excited for my concert tomorrow night? I’m so excited.” Another pause. “At my concert tomorrow night, I’ll be using Little Piggy Makeup,” She holds up a compact of blush. “Is that what you’re using also?” She opens the compact, revealing hot pink powder inside. “I just love Pink Piggy Makeup. You should buy it too.” She lifts her other hand revealing a fluffy brush, and then swirls it into the powder. “We can match.” She gently swishes the brush over her cheek, a perfect dusting of bright pink left behind. “I’m so excited to wear Pink Piggy Makeup to my concert tomorrow. Whether you’re watching from home, or here in person, wear Pink Piggy Makeup to support me. I live for my fans support.”

            The video cuts to black. I’m not sure how much time passes before I back myself away from the screen, unsure of how I’d gotten so close to it, and motion for the video to replay. I grab a mirror from the table next to my bed and watch myself as I watch Tansy. She hardly ever moves, and never blinks unless she’s talking. I wonder how she can be so still.

            I continue to watch her for the rest of the night until I can recite the entire thing, mimicking my body language and trying to raise the pitch of my voice. I could never get it to sound like hers, though. I’ve done this for all of Tansy’s videos. Before I go to sleep, I ask my friend Nia if she wants to go shopping at Rouge for Pink Piggy Makeup in the morning.

            “Duh,” she says, her tiny image reflecting over my U-Watch, “We’ll have to leave early if we want to get some before it sells out.”

            “I know we’ll get some, Nia. We’ll get the Pink Piggy Makeup,” I tell her.

            “You always have the best attitude, Myla, see you in the morning.”

            I smile to her, and then end the call. As I go to sleep, I straighten the curve in my back, trying to correct any imperfections that I can.

 

            Nia arrives at 7:30 the next morning. My parents are watching the news on their U-Screen as they eat their Mighty Flakes before work. The anchorwoman is talking about the new mall that is being built down town. There’s already Light Square, several blocks away from where they plan on building the new mall, but the corporation in charge of the build promises that this mall will be an adequate competitor. The anchorwoman's hair does not move as she speaks animatedly, expressing her own excitement for the new shopping center.

            “Goodbye, Mom,” I said, “Goodbye, Dad.”

            “Goodbye, Myla,” they reply in sync, waving and then turning back to the screen.

            “Aren’t you just so excited?” I ask Nia, tightening my fists as we ride down the elevator. An artificial landscape is projected on the walls around us, green rolling hills ebb out around us and daisies sway in the wind.

            “I’d only be more excited if we could be there in person tonight,” Nia replies.

            “I’m sure we’ll have our chance to see her someday,” I say, “She’ll probably go on tour after this performance, you know.”

            The elevator doors open and we walk through the lobby.

            “Promise me that we’ll go together when she does,” Nia said, taking my hand.

            “I promise.”

            We walk down the street towards Light Square. There’s a Kappa Clean advertisement being played on the building across from ours. As we walk, Cherry Volt’s symbol, a blood red lipstick mark, flashes across the streets bright ground. She’s a singer, like Tansy, but she’s not as good, nobody thinks so. Magazine stands line the street, and people busily hop from one to the other on their way to work. A hologram of Martin Nova, the cities mayor, is standing in front of several of the booths.

            “We all want to be loved,” he says, “Love the products and the products will love you.”

            My attention is stolen by Tansy’s recent video being projected over one of the booths. I watch it as we walk by.

            When we get to Light Square, there are already lines forming at the counters of Rouge. Nia and I immediately rush towards the smallest line, standing on our tip-toes to see over the heads of the people in front of us. We catch a glimpse of the products, all pink with tiny pig noses printed on them. I grab Nia’s hand in excitement. As we wait, I tighten my stomach, seeing how long I can hold the muscles taught before letting them collapse with exhaustion. My eye starts to twitch and I take a deep breath, telling myself that I will get the hot pink blush.

            The store opens and we slowly get closer to the front, each person in line taking away handfuls of the product. My eye is unbearable, squirming and shaking. At the front of the line, the twitching subsides. I see theres Pink Piggy blush left. I grab it, and hold it close to my heart. There’s a tiny hologram of Tansy  standing next to the products. I look at her petite frame as I wait for Nia. We buy our items, and rush out of the store to the nearest restroom.

            “I love this product,” says Nia. She pats a baby pink cream onto her eyelid. “I feel so great.”

            I open my blush. The color is so bright it hurts my eyes. I even got the Pink Piggy blush brush to go with it. I sweep it into the powder, just as Tansy had in her video, and then swipe it across my cheeks. A pleasant pink stain is left behind, and for a brief moment, I think I look like her. Then I see the pores on my face, and my bulky nose. I think of Rouge, wondering if they have anything to smooth the skin or mask the nose. I should have looked.

 

            I sit in front of the U-Screen in my bedroom watching Tansy’s interviews as I wait for her concert to start streaming.

            “You’re kicking off your new album with a concert in several weeks, Tansy,” the Tess Sommers, a popular gossip streamer, asked, “Are you nervous?”

            “I’m just so grateful for all the support I have. I love my life. I feel so fulfilled.”

            “There has been some speculation that you’re being overworked by your record label, someone even spilled that you are fizzling out, how do you feel about those rumors?”

            “I love my life, I am so grateful. I hope I can do this for the rest of my life.”

            I just love how positive she always is.

            “And what about Cherry Bolt? There are some rumors that she claims you’ll soon be obsolete.”

            “I wish Cherry Bolt the best of luck in her career,” Tansy, tilted her head, smiling, “We all deserve the best, we all deserve love. I wish Cherry luck.”

            Tess nods, “Is there anything else you wish to say?”

            Tansy turns to the camera, speaking straight to the audience, “I can’t wait for you all to see my concert, make sure you support Kappa Clean, and Piggy Pink Makeup. If you support Kappa Clean and Pink Piggy Makeup, you support me. I know you all want to support me.”

            “Thank you, Tansy,” Tess says.

            “Thank you, Ms. Sommers.” Tansy smiles and looks again into the camera until it switches to the next segment.

            After waiting an eternity, Tansy’s concert begins and I feel myself come alive. Tansy is singing her most popular song, “Love”. She stands on the stage her arms straight down and her hands upturned. Her head bobs back and forth, the only movement. The jubilant beat bounces at me, and I smile. The concert is being sponsored by Pink Piggy Makeup and Kappa Clean.

            I hold my mirror up, looking back and forth from my reflection to her singing. I already dyed my hair blonde, but for some reason it didn’t look the same. I try to find the difference as I watch.

            “You want to be what you can see, and everybody sees me,” she sings and I sing too, quietly, so that I can still hear her. She chants like a cheerleader. I feel like like she’s singing to me. I feel like she loves me. I never want it to end.

            Halfway through the show, she stops and for a moment her voice skips. I think its just the music but realize it’s her too. Her mouth sputters, opening and closing, the song skips and repeats the same fraction of a second. Then she straightens up, smiling, and I see something trickle down from her nostril. I get closer, pressing my hands against the screen and see that it’s blood. My heartbeat quickens and hot tears dribble out of my eyes. The screen darkens.

            “We will return after these messages,” an animated voice says. A Kappa Clean video starts to play.

 

            I think of Tansy all night.

            “I hope she’s okay,” Nia says to me, her face hovering over my watch.

            “I saw blood coming from her nose, Nia, blood.” I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying again. I’m not sure why I want to, something inside me feels sour now.

            “I wonder what happened.”

            I think of Tansy’s sputtering mouth, and her still body. I go to the bathroom once Nia stops the call. I stare at myself in front of the mirror. My cheeks are still pink from the Pink Piggy blush. I love the way it looks on me. I love the way it makes me feel. Does Tansy feel this way when she wears it? Something’s not right.

            I stare at my shoulders, thinking of how I should return to the doctor, to see if anything can be done for my spine. Has Tansy always been perfect? What could I do to be perfect?

            My eye is twitching again. Every time I feel it tickling my lid, I feel myself getting hotter with annoyance. I just want it to stop. I hold my palm against it until my vision goes spotty, and I let go. It takes a few moments for me to see again. My bones are unchangeable. This picking feeling scrapes up against the inside of my chest. All I want is to be perfect like Tansy. Tansy. Tansy. Tansy. I am worried for her. I am worried for me.

           

            The next day, Tansy releases a new video. She looks fine, smiling softly, her lips painted baby blue to match her eyes.

            “Hi everyone, it’s Tansy. I feel much better now,” she says. Her voice sounds different though, louder than before. Her pupils are large, so large that I can hardly see the blue of her eyes. “Thank you all for your concern. I was not feeling well last night, I feel much better now.” She pauses. “You want to be what you can see, and everybody sees me. I wish I could see you.”

            I don’t recognize the last line from her song. She pauses for fifteen seconds, staring into the screen. She doesn’t blink, and as I watch, I can’t even see her chest rise from breath. I move closer to the screen, touching it  with my hands and wait for her to move.

            “Thank you all for your support,” she finally says, relieving the ache in my chest, “You’re support is what gives my life meaning. What gives your life meaning? Remember, I love you. Do you love me? “ She nods, “You love me. I feel much better now.” The screen cuts to black. I look at the floor, nodding. I’m not sure I believe if she’s really okay, but wonder why she would not tell us the truth. She must be okay. She would tell us if she weren’t. I replay the video, looking at pink fur dress and ignoring the difference in her voice. I decide to go to Light Square again to find a dress similar to hers. I like looking like Tansy.