Diary of an Ugly Duckling by Langhorne, Karyn (general ebook reader .txt) 📕

Doc, I swear,”

Audra averred, raising her hand for an oath on an

imaginary stack of Bibles as if the gesture added in-

stant credibility. “And I switched to working nights,

so I could stay in days. And I wore hats, like you sug-

gested. See?” And she waved the floppy baseball

cap at him as proof.

Dr. Jamison fluttered his fingers dismissively.

“Not enough. The medication you’re taking de-

presses the melanin in your skin. Sun exposure aug-

ments it.” He frowned. “In order to get the full effect

of the medication, you must not just avoid the sun.

You have to consider it to be your enemy.”

Audra nodded. “Okay, so what do you want me to

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do? Hire someone to shade me under an umbrella

every time I step into the street?”

She’d thought he might laugh, might crack those

thin lips into something she might recognize as a

smile. But the doctor just blinked at her and said in a

calm, quiet deadpan way: “Yes. That would help. As

would a very wide-brimmed hat, along with a scarf

to cover the neck and gloves for the hands and

arms—”

“Gloves?”

The good doctor’s bushy gray brows shot up.

“Gloves. You must cover your arms and any other

part of your body exposed to sunlight. That is, if you

want to achieve the coloring we’ve discussed.” He

peered at her closely. “Is that still your intention?”

He seemed to almost be offering her the opportu-

nity to back out, to change her mind, to reconsider—

and in that instant a nervous fluttering of images

swarmed around her like bees. Her mother and Pe-

tra, Art Bradshaw and Penny. Esmeralda Prince and

Kiana’s Ugly Duckling book.

Audra swallowed hard. “What color will I be

when it’s over? Graham cracker brown?” She reached

into her duffel for the worn leather wallet and

pulled out a picture of Petra, little Kiana astride her

knee. The two of them grinned up at her like a two-

person cheering squad. “Like them?”

The grim doctor’s lips curved into a smile as he

gazed down at her family. “Graham cracker brown?”

he repeated, showing a set of well-shaped teeth that

somehow made him look more intimidating, not

less. “Yes, graham cracker brown. I think that’s ex-

actly what you’ll be.”

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179

Audra nodded. “Then, yes. That is still my inten-

tion.”

“I’ll ask Shamiyah to see about that umbrella-

toting personal servant . . . though I confess it would

surprise me a great deal if that were in the budget.”

He paused a bit. “Your surgery is next week, I be-

lieve, so we’ll begin an increased dosage immedi-

ately.” Then he excused himself, leaving Audra

alone with the film crew and the sick feeling she’d

just offered up her first official, not exactly flatter-

ing, sound bite.

Chapter 15

Tuesday, June 26

Dear Petra,

Well, I’m here . . . and I guess there’s no turning

back now. The first of the surgeries is in a couple

of days and I’d be lying if I pretended like I wasn’t

scared to death. If I didn’t know what was on the

other end, I think I’d back out now. Go home and live

with Ma hollering, “I told you so,” for the rest of my

life.

Well, maybe not.

Please write to me as often as you can. I know

things are heating up for you there, but it means a lot

to have your support.

Be careful out there,

Audra

DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING

181

“So, Audra.” Dr. Anna Goddard crossed then

uncrossed her legs as though she couldn’t

quite get comfortable. In fact, everything about the

woman said “discomfort”: the way she balanced her

notepad on one precarious knee to the occasional

glance she took in the direction of the ubiquitous

cameraman. Which was weird, considering that his

presence couldn’t be a new experience for the psy-

chiatrist. Audra knew for a fact that she was the

twelfth woman made over on Ugly Duckling . . . and

every single one of her predecessors had been re-

quired, as she was, to sit down for twice-weekly

meetings with this body-image shrink. If anything,

this woman should have been an old hand at being

on TV and acting like she wasn’t at the same time.

Dr. Goddard crossed her legs again, glanced at

the camera nervously and picked at the fabric of her

black slacks before flipping her notebook open and

fixing her eyes back on Audra. “So . . . Audra,” she

began again.

“Relax, Doc,” Audra joked. “I’m sure they’ll make

you look great.”

The woman smiled. “It’s not that.” She rolled her

eyes. “At least, it’s not just that,” she admitted,

chuckling a little. “It’s . . . well, I’ve been studying

body image for twenty years. And to be honest, in

my prior works, I’ve never really addressed the is-

sues that affect women of color. I’ve been doing a

great deal of reading and research to prepare for my

sessions with you . . . and I’m hoping that I can be of

help, without being”—she hesitated—“offensive in

any way to . . . uh . . . your brothers and sisters of

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color.” She offered Audra another nervous smile.

“The last thing I want to do is come off as patroniz-

ing or unsympathetic when this is such a delicate

topic. So if, I say something . . . you know . . .

wrong . . . I’d really appreciate it if you’d correct me.”

“Uh . . . yeah,” Audra agreed, not certain of ex-

actly what that meant, or what she was supposed

to do.

But with that agreement, the doctor’s face became

serious and the last of her nervousness seemed to

drain away. She clicked her elegant black pen into

working order and zeroed in on Audra with target-

shooter eyes.

“So . . . Audra,” she began a third time, and this

time Audra heard the shift in her voice. Whatever

had come before was prelude, but this sentence was

the real thing. “When exactly did you start to hate

your skin tone?”

Audra’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“You know, when did you look in the mirror and

decide, “I’m too black.”

“Never,” Audra shook her head vehemently, feel-

ing her anger rising. “I never even thought about

lightening my skin until I came