Skin Shallow
Friday, July 21st, 2017, 12:42 p.m.
Jamie Himmelfarb was not a truly happy person.
Here she sat at an outdoor table belonging to Perx, Juniper's premier coffee shop, like so many other workday lunch breaks. She liked to rotate her orders, mixing and matching blends with pastries, such as a roll, fritter or bear claw. The Wi-Fi was top-notch, so along each time attended her personal best friend, the Asus laptop. The loyal electronic companion was always there when Jamie needed it. It never failed in entertaining her. It was always cooperative as long as it got its digital beauty sleep at night. It was seldom disagreeable or dishonest, and it did not get upset or envious when Jamie resumed activity on her work computer.
Her lunch break was a full hour, decent time to order a cup of roast, do some blogging, sort files or surf web waves. At home with the most free time, she put the Asus to more involved uses like streaming movies and playing questing games. Her job paid the rent and put food in the kitchen. And not counting her trusty laptop as a roommate, she lived alone. Dwelling in solitude was not the source of her unhappiness in and of itself, though it was a related element.
Jamie was single, and now going on 33, quite weary of it. Being bisexual, it stood to reason her chance of meeting people should be maximized. But here into play came her biggest hang-up. A hindrance to her self-confidence, which could turn romantic partners off. It was again brought to her attention as someone passed by. She looked up reflexively, to see her reflection in the glass panes.
Ugh...yeah, there I am. God, why do I have to be so unattractive? Why can't I be pretty like other girls?
Indeed, Jamie had a low self-image when it came to her face. She felt she was unsightly. She thought her eyes naturally looked sad and standoffish—with the "help" of her arching brows—her lips and skin too pale, and her nose too pronounced. She supposed her body was okay, and was actually fond of her light brunette hair, which she considered her finest feature. And so she let it just grow. And drape her face just lightly enough so she could see.
Although there are some things I kinda wish I
couldn't
see.
She also rather wished the Asus' screen wasn't reflective. While she guessed the hair over her eyes thing was kind of cute, in its way, confidence in her looks was far too little to be congruent with mental health. Her eyes and reality were too truthful to play tricks on her. She was not what most would perceive as "classically beautiful." She would not be accepted into a traditional modeling agency, and not just because she was only 5'5". Unfortunately, there was little she could do that she hadn't already tried. The deceptively named concealer didn't help, and Jamie was terrified of plastic surgery. Besides, she wanted someone who'd appreciate her for her mind and sweet nature, as well as what was on the outside...or, instead of.
It wasn't as if she'd
never
had a date, kiss or sex before. But with one main individual person? Leading to an actual relationship? That was a different story. Potential mates just didn't like her "like
that
," as they phrased it. Nor seemed they to have any problem telling her to her face. Jamie's childhood was pretty run-of-the-mill: a quadrilateral family unit including a kid brother one year her junior, a decent academic performance, a typical adolescence. All that was missing was experience points in the field of dating. Looking back, it likely didn't help that she called it "experience points." She was a bit of a roleplay nerd, which influenced the way she thought and spoke. She didn't know if this trait hindered her as a courtable lass. But maintained her face was a bigger hurdle.
She'd checked out a handful of dating sites, but only one struck her promising enough to join. It was adorned with one of the few pictures of herself she felt was okay. She raked in her share of hits, but resulting in nary a single connection. She visited some profiles and sent out a few messages, but to an equal lack of avail. It was awful. She'd never felt so rejected in her life. Eventually, she just stopped checking. Now her dating profile just floated in cyberspace, collecting digital dust.
She finished her lunch. She shut the Asus and began to slip it into its case when something caught her eye. A pair of shadows passed. Jamie looked up to see a young blonde with sunglasses walking her dog with a harness. She stopped by a neighboring table, where sat a single individual with naught but a book. Her dog stopped, sniffed and sat, indicating there was a person here.
"...Excuse me," she reached, patting the air. "Could you please help me find the restroom?"
It took Jamie a moment to realize exactly what was happening. But to her surprise, as she watched, the table's sole occupant threw one glance up, waited a moment, then wordlessly rose from the table and quietly departed, leaving the woman and her dog standing stationary. Jamie's brows furrowed in empathetic concern. This apparently impaired woman needed to relieve herself, and someone completely able-bodied wouldn't help her. How crappy, thought Jamie. She checked the time, and calculated she'd still a healthy portion of lunch hour left. She encased the Asus, stood herself, and approached.
"Uh, hi. Hi there," she addressed, lightly tapping her arm. The blonde turned in her direction. The end of her dog's harness was fastened around one wrist. Her other hand grasped a collapsible cane, which Jamie ironically hadn't seen before. She continued.
"I have to go to the restroom too. I'll take you."
"
Oh
—thank you," said the blind blonde, already sounding relieved. She waved her harness-fastened wrist. "My best buddy boy Buster here can do and sniff out a lot, but he can't locate a ladies' room. And I don't hear him growling at you, so you must be nice."
Jamie chuckled. "No problem. This way." She began leading her by the arm. "My name's Jamie, by the way. Jamie Himmelfarb."
Her visually challenged acquaintance nodded. "Carinne Fineman. Pleased to meet you, Jamie."
So Jamie kept hold of Carinne's arm, and the three of them maneuvered through the semi-crowded Perx interior. Animals weren't normally allowed in businesses like this, but guide dogs for the blind were the lone exception. So Carinne didn't have to leave Buster behind. Jamie did not know blind people took their dogs into the public restroom, but supposed it stood to logic. She watched with amusement as Buster's tail wagged under the stall divider. Perhaps fortunate no other women were occupying.
"I'm, uh..." Jamie chuckled. "I'm inclined to say I've never tinkled with a dog in the room before."
"I know, right?" replied Carinne, one toilet adjacent. "And he's the only boy allowed in the girls' room."
"Hee hee...but sometimes when I was alone at home I'd leave the door cracked, and our dalmatian Tops poked his little nose in."
A snicker. "Tops?"
"Well, our first thought was Spot. But that's so common. We wanted his name to be a little unique. So then we realized, 'Spot' spelled backwards is a word too: Tops. And it fit; he was the best."
"'Was'?"
"Yeah...he's in doggie heaven now."
"Aw, I'm sorry."
"It's cool. After him we got a precious little Yorkie. We convinced ourselves Tops would've wanted us to carry on our canine legacy. Remember what George Carlin said: 'Life...is a series of dogs.'"
"D-E-lightful. I see you are a lady and a scholar, as well as a canine lover."
Jamie was grateful for the stall divider, so Carinne couldn't see her slightly blush. Then...
oh yeah
. "That's me!" she affirmed.
"Fantastic. I could never be friends with someone who hated dogs. Someone who could take 'em or leave 'em, eh, I'd feel the same way; I could take or leave them. So a Yorkie, huh?"
"Yep. We named her Peppermint Patty."
"Ha! Classic. D'you get another one called Marcie and try to get 'em to mate?"
Another laugh. "Um, no...that we did not."
"Sorry," Carinne called. "I'm a lesbian. That's...kinda just the weird way my mind works."
"No kidding."
"Nope. Blind lesbian. There's a combo for ya. Gay and visually impaired, since the day I was born. Life—and love—'re already tough enough when you're sighted and straight. Try putting yourself in my shoes."
"Or mine. Love's not so nice to me either.
My
'shoes' are really ug—..."
Jamie suddenly hushed herself up. It occurred at the last syllable that disclosing this could be a mistake. Even if Carinne was blind. The girl'd just told her she was gay. She could be a potential romantic connection. And
she
was
beautiful