Vipers
Laura stood in front of the dresser. It was waist-high, and she leaned against it, hands on top. Her head hung, relaxed. On the dresser was a jewelry box. Piled neatly in front of it was a silver necklace with a silver cross. She picked it up, letting the chain slip through her fingers. She held the cross and looked at it. Her grandmother gave it to her on her sixteenth birthday. Laura put it on. The cross hung at the nape of her neck.
Straightening up, she went over to her bed. On the spread, laid out and arranged, were several swimsuits. The red one had white beads sewn into it. The black one had ruffles. The yellow one had white flower prints covering it. After considering the black swimsuit, she changed into the red one. The full-length mirror helped her tidy up her outfit.
Laura sat down at her desk and opened her laptop. She checked her email. Some she answered, most she ignored. She checked some of her social profiles – nothing of interest. She finally navigated to her profession. She took a deep breath, and her camera’s active light came on. She smiled with full teeth, stood up, and took off her swimsuit.
Fame
Laura sat off-center, midway up in an auditorium. Mrs. Langram was lecturing about the early merging of the Assyrian and Sumerian cultures. Laura was typing notes with her laptop, completely enthralled by the lesson. She periodically looked up to assure the professor she wasn’t sleeping. Her hand rose to fidget with her necklace, but she had taken it off. An intrusive finger tapped her shoulder from behind.
She brushed it away and focused on the lecture. The tapping came again. Laura flushed it from her shoulder. The agitator from behind escalated their request. A hand came over her shoulder and thrust a phone into her face, unwelcome. Flustered, Laura turned around and glared at the perpetrator. It was a young man with acne. He was grinning.
“Is that you?” he asked.
“What?” said Laura.
He resituated the phone back in front of her face. “This, is this you?”
Laura looked at the phone and tried not to throw up. She was on the screen. Just her. No swimsuit. She spun around and gathered her things. She squeezed her way past other students to get to the aisle. She couldn’t move fast enough. Headed for the door, Mrs. Langram called after her. Laura simply waved her hand and shouted that she was sick.
Babies
Laura heard the classroom door slam shut. When she was twenty feet down the hall, she heard it open and close again. She stopped. Turning, she intended to face her traitor, but it wasn’t the grinning idiot. It was Mrs. Langram. Laura couldn’t stop the tears.
The professor hugged her and then held her at arm’s length.
“Were those boys harassing you, dear?” asked Langram.
“No, nothing I didn’t ask for, I suppose.”
“I doubt that.”
“Well.” Laura dragged her nose across the back of her hand. “No. Thank you. I do have to go. I have to go get my daughter from daycare. Thank you.”
Langram squeezed Laura’s shoulders and let her go. Laura left the building. In her car, she screamed.
