Discovering Nicollette: Chapter 1

Once again sitting in front of her vanity as she seemed to do so often now, the scents of the expensive powders and perfumes lingering around her beautiful face, Nicollette thought for the first time, “How did I get here?”

It wasn’t a strange thought. Anyone would have been in complete awe at the transformation that had happened to this once plain, dumpy girl from a small dry town in Eastern Colorado. Now the picture that confronted her in the mirror was of a lithe, elegant creature with clear creamy skin. Gone was the short mousy thin hair and now thick waves of ebony surrounded her oval face. Gone was the dull blue color of her eyes and replaced with bright cat green. Her breasts heaved over her lace corset encasing her thin waist where once she had worn padded Wal-Mart specials to try to get a curve that was above her broad waistline. `

In just a year she had changed to such an extent those than had known her did not recognize her. And yet…she had somehow come full circle. Somehow her life now disguised with fine clothes and educated, wealthy companions was more like her old life than she ever cared to admit.

 

 

It was 14 months ago, driving home from work in her old Dodge pickup the smell of bacon grease and onions clinging to her like a spoiled child that she saw the man that would change her life. Pulling in to the gravel driveway of her rented one bedroom house, the paint peeled so bad that she could no longer tell it was supposed to be blue; he pulled in behind her with a wave and a smile.

“Glad I caught you Nic, This wouldn’t fit in our box.” It was Paulie Hernandez, the mailman and town nice guy. Everyone liked Paulie, and although Nic’s mood had quickly gone from bad to worse at the thought of arriving at home, he still put a smile on her face.

“Hey, Paulie! What won’t fit?” She slid out of the truck and walked, or rather waddled, over to him.

In Paulie’s hands was a package covered in brown tape and a manila envelope. He handed them to Nic with a wink and declared, “You just won the Publisher’s clearing House, and I just know it!”

Chuckling and shaking her head, Nic took them and went into the house slowly, putting off the daily confrontation for as long as possible. The package tucked under her arm so she could use both hands to open the envelope, Nic slid her stubby finger under the glued flap and quickly got a paper cut. “Damn!” she spat offhandedly and without looking opened the screen door and stepped into her self-made prison.

Setting the package on the wobbly table, trying not to see the pile of empty beer cans littering the kitchen counter in the corner of her eye, Nic finished opening the envelope and dropped the keys to the linoleum accidentally.

“That you?” she heard from the next room over the sound of WWF grunts and groans on the television.

“Yeah,” she said aloud, and then under her breath, “who the hell else would come here?”

Nic pulled out a legal document from the envelope and suddenly it became clear what this was about, just as Matt came in to the kitchen holding another empty, “What’s that shit?”

Being too late to hide it, Nic silently handed the letter to Matt and turned to the drawer to get a knife to open the package. It took Matt a long time to read over the professionally worded letter, stating this package was the sole item in the Estate of Constantina Stavros and was being sent to the only known living descendant, Nicollette Stavros. By the time he was done, the package was open, and inside was an ornate wooden box.

“Oh, it’s from your Grandma. Probly a bill in der for the funeral.” He was heading for the refrigerator, and another Natural Light.

Nic ran her fingers over the carvings on the box. Delicate sea shells and waves with dolphins dancing in the spray covered the lid, and along the front and sides were cherub faces. It wasn’t very large, about the size of the jewelry box she had found at a yard sale once as a kid, the kind the other girls had so when you opened the lid a pretty little ballerina would dance to the music, only hers had not see the little ballerina in years, but sometimes if she shook it right, she could still get it to play the music.

Matt came back to her side, lying a heavily haired arm on her shoulder, “Well, what’d the old bitch send ya?”

Nic opened her mouth to scold him for calling her grandmother a bitch, but quickly shut it, still remembering the bruise on her thigh from the night before when she had carelessly taken one of his beer cans before it was empty. The lid was heavier than she thought, and once opened she saw there was another note, this one written on pink paper, the kind you bought in the drug store. Matt grabbed the note, tossed it on the table, and beneath was a small but beautiful ring.

It was a gold band so thin it was barely visible against the black velvet where it nestled. On the band was a single tiny sea shell, the same kind that was on the box that she would later learn was a scallop shell.

Matt looked over and laughed, “Some inheritance! Might bring twenty bucks down at Eddie’s, though.”

“Not gonna sell, it, Matt. It was my grandma’s.” The box suddenly flew from her hand as the elbow connected with her cheek and before she knew what happened she was on the faded linoleum with pain engulfing her head and the breath gone from her lungs. A fast kick to the small of her back and she was choking, spitting blood from her lips.

“You’ll fuckin’ sell it if I tell ya to, Bitch.” With that he left her to get her breath back while he walked back into the living room to catch the next wrestling match.

The pain subsided some and she was able to roll up to sitting after a few minutes. Wiping the blood from her chin and cheek with the back of her hand her first thought was the box. She scanned the floor for it, and there it was sitting in the corner, lid up and ring still nestled in the velvet. Getting to stand was not easy but once Nic was upright, she retrieved the box and reached for the letter, then sat down on a kitchen chair absently laying her hand over the note on the pink paper on the table.

Unfolding the letter, Nic read it quickly before Matt could come back in and ruin this moment for her like he had managed to ruin so many others in the three years of their cohabitation.

Dear Nicollette,

            I hope this letter finds you well, and happy. I will never be able to tell you how it has pained me all of these years over the loss of your mother at such a young age, and then never being able to be the grandmother to you I had wished to be. Time and age have all but taken every regret from me save for these. The only thing I can do to now is to assure you get this ring and the wisdom that should always be gifted along side of it.            

            You were only three years old when your mother died, as you know, and for that I take full responsibility. I spoiled her as everyone did because of her great beauty and charm. I showed this ring to her when she was very young and from then on she begged me for it. I tried to resist the urge to give in to her, but I could not resist for long. On her sixteenth birthday she received the ring from me and that night she was gone from my life forever. I tried to find her, but she moved from one love affair to another so quickly that she was always just out of my grasp. That is until she met your father and finally felt true and real love. When she died and your father moved you so far away from me, my world truly ended. I have only love for you and this ring now. I know this ring could bless you with all the gifts of the world, but it can also be a curse. Wear it if you chose. Use it wisely if you do. This ring contains the blessing and pain of the countless generations of your family before you. In time you will discover for yourself the truth and origin of the ring for yourself, as all of the women of this family have had to do over the long sea of time. Until then, only trust your heart.

            Forever your grandmother,

                        Constantina

 

Salty tears spattered down on the last page of the letter. Her grandma was gone, and with her the last blood relative she had since her father had died two years before of a heroin overdose. Looking at the ring, she smiled. How could this little piece of jewelry bring her anything but twenty dollars at Eddie’s Pawn Shop?

Out of the velvet the ring looked even tinier. So small that she felt there was no way it could fit on her thick finger. This ring seemed to be made for some elegant woman with delicate hands, but as she slid it over her ring finger it fit her like it was made for her. Letting her imagination swell from the cryptic letter, Nic thought she may feel a vibration or electric shock from settling the ring above her knuckle, but there was no feeling. The fact was she could barely tell the ring was even there.

 

 

 

The dinner dishes drying in the rack, she could finally sit on the sofa and take her weight from her tired feet. Matt was dozing in his chair, his square chin resting on his chest above his ample beer gut, the reflection of the lamp casting a yellow glow atop his balding head. Nic wondered why she stayed, why she didn’t leave this worthless lump of man, but at least he was a man.

It’s not like she had ever had a lot of options where love was concerned. She had lost her virginity at fifteen to an older boy from down the street one night after a keg party. He never asked her out again. A guy at the diner asked her out once and got pissed when she protested being driven to the motel on the highway, so hit her and made her walk home. A few others that were mostly sweaty romps in the back of cars or in beds with dirty sheets. . The first hint of romance had been Matt. The only guy who had ever brought her flowers.

She shook her head now and almost laughed at herself. How wide eyed she had been that day in the diner, her arms full of plates of hamburgers when Matt walked in holding a wilted bouquet of daisies and carnations and asked her out that first time. Two weeks later, she was sharing his house and the flowers were long since dried up in a Mason jar vase in the kitchen window.

Not at all like her mother.

The letter had revealed to her a taste of her mother’s life. Her first taste. Nic’s father never spoke about Rose. People said his heart died the day she did, and Nic believed it. He had very little to give Nic all those years, emotionally or financially. He would sit in his bedroom for days at a time shooting into his veins and losing more and more of the world around him. The only picture Nic had ever seen of her mother was a blurred and far away image of a tall thin girl with flowing dark hair waving her arms above her head while strolling along some indistinct seashore.

She now knew that her mother had been loved and cherished. Her mother had been beautiful and charming, and had droves of love affairs. The best thing was the thought of her parents being young and in love. The thoughts of them being in love and having an epic romance that had ended in tragedy at her death was something out of the cheap paperbacks Karen was always dragging to the diner to read over between rushes. At least that is always the way Nic had chosen to see romance. The stuff littering yellowed pages of books.

Romance was this smelly man snoring in a chair in front of the TV.

As much as she hated to, Nic switched off the television and went to Matt to wake him, hoping that he would just go to their bed and roll over grunting to fall asleep instead of rolling on top of her to do what he termed his “Magic Dance” and what she secretly referred to as “two minutes of bad breath and tickle”.

            It was one of those lucky nights and soon she was sleeping, the ring on her finger, the sheet pulled up to her chin.