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

look like you and Ma and Kiana . . . I might not have

done it at all if I’d known about Andrew Neill . . .

Speaking of my father—it’s weird to be saying that

and not mean Daddy—he has a niece here in New

York. I’m going to meet her this afternoon, just before I

go to work. Ma is jittery about it, but she won’t talk to

me, either. Just keeps fussing and mussing, critcizing

and complaining . . .

I think it’s her way of telling me she’s scared of

where all my discoveries might lead. I think she’s

worried I’m changing so much, I won’t love her

anymore.

Do you think Ma could need reassurance? Seems

impossible, doesn’t it?

Wish me luck,

Audra

Audra knew the woman before she entered the

diner.

It was the same little place near the prison where

she’d sat with Art months and months ago, a differ-

ent woman from the woman she was now, both in-

side and out. For one thing, she was almost half the

size she used to be. For another, her street clothes

were now designer jeans worn over Shamiyah-style

heels and a trendy little T-shirt covered by a form-

fitting jacket. And of course there was the hat, scarf

and gloves she wore to protect her skin from the

mottling effect Dr. Jamison had told her about.

Audra stared out of the window of the booth, ig-

noring the good smells of the place. Dieting was so

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much harder now than when she was locked in a

mirrorless room: there seemed to be temptations

everywhere. Audra tried to ignore the smell of fresh

bread and sizzling bacon fat and focused on the

window, watching the sidewalks fill with evening

foot traffic and the streets line with cabs as the sun

sank between the skyscrapers. She glanced down at

the piece of paper where she’d written the name

and the woman’s cell phone number, along with to-

day’s date and the time, both records of this appoint-

ment set by Audra with Art’s private-investigator

friend’s help.

Laine Neill. That was her name. Audra’s father’s

brother’s daughter. Her cousin on her father’s side.

Audra glanced up and out the window again as a

butterfly of nervousness soared upward from the pit

of her stomach. Outside, a woman crossed the street

and began walking up the block toward her.

She was around Audra’s age, with dark brown

skin, of medium height and on the chunky side—

carrying at least thirty to forty extra pounds, mainly

around the middle and in her butt and thighs—yet

she wore a fashionable pair of the same kind of low-

slung jeans Audra wore and a pair of spike-heeled

boots. She wore a tan suede jacket over a black tank

top. Her features were utterly unremarkable in any-

way: not unattractive, just not particularly striking

or memorable, but she walked with the easy grace of

a runway model, confidence speaking in every step.

Audra slid out of the booth as Laine Neill stepped

into the diner and looked around. She walked to-

ward Audra with a bright smile on her face and

open arms—and as Audra realized she was staring

DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING

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into a face very much like her own had been many

months ago, tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“Hey cuz,” she said, wrapping Audra in the

warmth of her hug. “Welcome to the family.”

“Audra! W—what are you doing?” Edith hissed as

Audra grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the

Goldilocks salon. “I’m in the middle of a process—”

and she jerked her arm free and waved her gloved

fingers at Audra.

“Get someone else to finish it for you.”

“But the client asked for me—”

“If the choices are have someone else finish it or

watch her hair fall out, I think she’ll let someone else

finish it!” Audra snapped. “I have to talk to you, right

now! And either you come outside with me, or I’m go-

ing to start talking in front of this whole salon.”

Edith cut a fearful glance around her. It was a Fri-

day evening and there was a woman in every chair,

plus a few waiting in the little alcove toward the

shop’s front.

“All right, all right,” Edith grumbled, pulling her

gloves from her fingers. “I’m sorry, dear,” she called

in a bright voice toward her client. “Jasmine will fin-

ish you up and I’ll be back before it’s time to style!”

Then she followed Audra out onto the street.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” she de-

manded as soon as they were on the sidewalk. This

side street was fairly quiet, but Audra could hear the

rumble of the subway in the distance.

“You know I’m not due on until eleven.”

“Well, I can’t believe you would come here on a

Friday, one of my busiest nights, and—”

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“And I can’t believe you would lie to me all these

years!” Audra snapped at her.

Edith’s face froze for a moment, as her brain ab-

sorbed the words. “Honestly, Audra!” she rolled her

eyes dramatically and shook her head. “I know you

like to have your little movie scenes, but there’s a

time and place for everything.” She turned back to-

ward the salon. “I am not about to stand out here in

the cold and—”

“You are, Ma. You are, because I’ve waited long

enough to hear your explanation. And I’m not wait-

ing anymore!”

Her mother blinked at her, her composure ripped

away like a cheap Halloween mask. Audra read fear

in her eyes now, even as she struggled for self-

control.

“There ain’t no reason to shout, Audra.”

“I just met my cousin, Ma. My cousin! She looks

just like me—just like I used to look. Do you have

any idea what that means to me? Do you have any

idea what it would have meant to know her—to

know the truth about myself—all these years?”

“Well, I didn’t know ’Drew had any family in

New York. Last I heard they were all still on St.

Croix—”

“Don’t change the subject, Ma,” Audra shot back.

“Why didn’t you tell me about him? Why didn’t you

tell me about my father! Why didn’t you tell me be-

fore I went on the Ugly Duckling? Before I—” she

gestured to herself. “Why did you wait until it was

too late?”

“Because I didn’t actually think you’d go through

with