Pretty Girls Who Never Wear Lipstick
By Barry Garelick
July 15, 2024
July 15, 2024
Pretty girls who never wear lipstick: Richard dreamt about them for years. In each dream was one specific girl, sometimes someone he knew, other times a stranger. There was a recognition between them that they would have sex, but it was never clear whether it happened, having gone unmentioned and unacknowledged. No words were ever spoken.
At some point in the dream she would disappear. She would linger in his thoughts the next day – a silent observer, watching him with curiosity and silent admiration. One-sided conversations would occur throughout the day in which he would respond to unspoken questions and she would remain silent. The talks, such as they were became soothing affirmations of his life; no judgments imposed.
Last night he dreamt of Debby, a girl he had come close to marrying. In the dual-nature of dreams, they were in a house that he didn’t recognize but it was familiar; it was where she lived now but she had never lived there. Their relationship had ended but was still going on, they resumed something that was both temporary and permanent, what he desired was attainable and unattainable, he wasn’t really with her, but they had never parted.
Before the dream, he had been awakened at two in the morning by his wife, Andrea, crying in the bathroom. Now he sat drinking his morning coffee at a small table in the corner of the kitchen. Andrea came downstairs, cradling their small beagle in her arms, and handed it to him. “Don’t forget, you have to take Sherry to the vet this morning.”
“I know,” he said, taking the beagle from her. He felt Debby watching him.
“Don’t ask me if I’m all right,” she said. He looked down and said nothing, petting Sherry’s neck and back. “I’m not mad,” she said. “I have to go. I’m going to be late. Doing the same old thing.”
She turned around at the door in the kitchen that led to the garage. “I’ll think about what you said. I know that you’ll come through.”
“And if I don’t?” he asked.
“I know you will,” she said.
At some point in the dream she would disappear. She would linger in his thoughts the next day – a silent observer, watching him with curiosity and silent admiration. One-sided conversations would occur throughout the day in which he would respond to unspoken questions and she would remain silent. The talks, such as they were became soothing affirmations of his life; no judgments imposed.
Last night he dreamt of Debby, a girl he had come close to marrying. In the dual-nature of dreams, they were in a house that he didn’t recognize but it was familiar; it was where she lived now but she had never lived there. Their relationship had ended but was still going on, they resumed something that was both temporary and permanent, what he desired was attainable and unattainable, he wasn’t really with her, but they had never parted.
Before the dream, he had been awakened at two in the morning by his wife, Andrea, crying in the bathroom. Now he sat drinking his morning coffee at a small table in the corner of the kitchen. Andrea came downstairs, cradling their small beagle in her arms, and handed it to him. “Don’t forget, you have to take Sherry to the vet this morning.”
“I know,” he said, taking the beagle from her. He felt Debby watching him.
“Don’t ask me if I’m all right,” she said. He looked down and said nothing, petting Sherry’s neck and back. “I’m not mad,” she said. “I have to go. I’m going to be late. Doing the same old thing.”
She turned around at the door in the kitchen that led to the garage. “I’ll think about what you said. I know that you’ll come through.”
“And if I don’t?” he asked.
“I know you will,” she said.
~
The vet’s office was hidden, tucked away off the main two lane road on the outskirts of Sonoma, in a little alcove of trees. It was just before an obscure road that he had passed many times and wondered about but had never been on it. The vet’s office wouldn’t open for fifteen more minutes so today was the day to explore it.
The road was narrow and pitted; it curved and disappeared into vineyards and tree-covered hills. The houses on either side looked like farmhouses. He passed a small light blue one-story house, where a woman was putting clothes out on a line.
“Come on, pup,” he said, tugging at the dog’s leash. She leapt at a lizard, small and the color of mud. The woman looked at the dog and laughed a soundless laugh. He guessed she was in her forties like him. Her smile was wide, and slightly crooked.
“Her name Pup?” she asked.
“No, it’s Sherry. I just call her pup.”
“Her name may as well be Pup then. Sherry’s a nice name, though.”
Richard looked down at Sherry, her mouth open in a toothy grin. “Sherry has never quite fit her,” he said.
“Taking her to Switzer's?” she asked.
“Yeah. Her ears are blocked with wax. He has to knock her out to do it.”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I had a dog who had that problem.” She kneeled down so she was eye level with Sherry. “I used to have a beagle. When I was a kid. Name was Ralph; he kept killing our neighbor's chickens so we had to get rid of him.”
“They're hard to control,” he said. She nodded and went back to putting clothes up on the line. She had a pale skin and a simple beauty that he always found attractive.
“Switzer's not open yet, so I thought I'd take a walk. I never knew this road existed; I've just kind of passed it in the car and never paid much attention.”
“You work around here?” she asked.
“San Rafael.”
“Yeah. I know a few people who work in San Rafael. Used to be country pretty much around there.” Richard nodded and she put a shirt on the line. “Now it’s all buildings and a shopping mall. Like everything else.”
Her face was pale and slightly wrinkled, but she had a simple beauty that he found attractive. She hung a man’s shirt on the line. Could be her husband’s, could be her son’s, if she has a son; could be her boyfriend’s, he thought, but probably not. He imagined her husband with muscular arms and who was always sure of himself, who did all the right things in life. He knew all the right people, knew how to get ahead and how to make his wife happy.
The road was narrow and pitted; it curved and disappeared into vineyards and tree-covered hills. The houses on either side looked like farmhouses. He passed a small light blue one-story house, where a woman was putting clothes out on a line.
“Come on, pup,” he said, tugging at the dog’s leash. She leapt at a lizard, small and the color of mud. The woman looked at the dog and laughed a soundless laugh. He guessed she was in her forties like him. Her smile was wide, and slightly crooked.
“Her name Pup?” she asked.
“No, it’s Sherry. I just call her pup.”
“Her name may as well be Pup then. Sherry’s a nice name, though.”
Richard looked down at Sherry, her mouth open in a toothy grin. “Sherry has never quite fit her,” he said.
“Taking her to Switzer's?” she asked.
“Yeah. Her ears are blocked with wax. He has to knock her out to do it.”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I had a dog who had that problem.” She kneeled down so she was eye level with Sherry. “I used to have a beagle. When I was a kid. Name was Ralph; he kept killing our neighbor's chickens so we had to get rid of him.”
“They're hard to control,” he said. She nodded and went back to putting clothes up on the line. She had a pale skin and a simple beauty that he always found attractive.
“Switzer's not open yet, so I thought I'd take a walk. I never knew this road existed; I've just kind of passed it in the car and never paid much attention.”
“You work around here?” she asked.
“San Rafael.”
“Yeah. I know a few people who work in San Rafael. Used to be country pretty much around there.” Richard nodded and she put a shirt on the line. “Now it’s all buildings and a shopping mall. Like everything else.”
Her face was pale and slightly wrinkled, but she had a simple beauty that he found attractive. She hung a man’s shirt on the line. Could be her husband’s, could be her son’s, if she has a son; could be her boyfriend’s, he thought, but probably not. He imagined her husband with muscular arms and who was always sure of himself, who did all the right things in life. He knew all the right people, knew how to get ahead and how to make his wife happy.
~
After dropping Sherry off at the vet’s he drove on the two lane road out of town that led to the highway. He thought about last night’s dream, Debby lying in bed in an otherwise empty room, neither of them speaking. Now he imagined telling her his thoughts, about how the lower branches of the trees in the fields visible from the road were all an even distance from the ground, looking like they had been trimmed; how someone had told him that they were like that because cows and other animals in the fields nibbled the branches. He told her about how he sometimes felt out of place living in the country and how he and Andrea had thought that moving to the country would give them different perspectives, and a healthier outlook. But they still had to work and the working world still went on in the same tiresome ways.
When the two lane road merged with the highway, he told Debby about the conversation he and Andrea had at two that morning. He heard her crying in the bathroom and when she came back to be he asked what was the matter. She told him she had had her period. They had been trying for a while to have a baby. He said he was sorry, and that they would try again.
“How long do we keep trying?” she said. “Until I reach menopause? All we do is work; doing things that no one cares about, working at jobs we hate, and being boring. We’ve done nothing for the world. What do we have to look back on?”
The two lie in silence and he ran his hand through her hair.
“I know you don’t believe in God,” she said. “But I really think that this is my punishment. I think how I was pregnant with your child ten years ago. I keep thinking if I had gone through with it, our child would be ten years old. Our lives would have been entirely different.” She turned on her side, now facing him.
“Would you have married me if I had your child?”
He said yes and she asked him if he loved her and he said yes again and then asked for proof. He asked what kind of proof she wanted.
“Tell me something that would make me happy, that shows me you believe in us. It doesn’t have to be right now. Tomorrow.” She was silent for a moment and then spoke again. “You’re very spiritual even if you don’t believe in God. I know you’ll come up with something.” He held her until her breathing became rhythmic, and she fell asleep. He lay thinking about their conversation. When he fell asleep, he had the dream.
When the two lane road merged with the highway, he told Debby about the conversation he and Andrea had at two that morning. He heard her crying in the bathroom and when she came back to be he asked what was the matter. She told him she had had her period. They had been trying for a while to have a baby. He said he was sorry, and that they would try again.
“How long do we keep trying?” she said. “Until I reach menopause? All we do is work; doing things that no one cares about, working at jobs we hate, and being boring. We’ve done nothing for the world. What do we have to look back on?”
The two lie in silence and he ran his hand through her hair.
“I know you don’t believe in God,” she said. “But I really think that this is my punishment. I think how I was pregnant with your child ten years ago. I keep thinking if I had gone through with it, our child would be ten years old. Our lives would have been entirely different.” She turned on her side, now facing him.
“Would you have married me if I had your child?”
He said yes and she asked him if he loved her and he said yes again and then asked for proof. He asked what kind of proof she wanted.
“Tell me something that would make me happy, that shows me you believe in us. It doesn’t have to be right now. Tomorrow.” She was silent for a moment and then spoke again. “You’re very spiritual even if you don’t believe in God. I know you’ll come up with something.” He held her until her breathing became rhythmic, and she fell asleep. He lay thinking about their conversation. When he fell asleep, he had the dream.
~
What his firm did – environmental consulting – was no longer as critical to Richard as it was when he was in his thirties and full of confidence when anything seemed possible. Over the years since that magic period in his life he had come to believe that life was shaped by what he called “renaissances”– bright segments in which everything he did seemed to be leading to something great. It was in one such period that he had met Andrea. Both had worked at another consulting firm. By the time he had decided he was serious about her, he was no longer enamored with his career. The renaissances that had carried him to where he was had served its purpose, however, and they married.
He always suspected that his marriage was the product of a good period in his life. He wondered whether it was a fear or a certainty that what had made the relationship good was now missing. They were now in their forties and this was the third such firm where Richard had worked. Andrea now worked for the state water board.
He stood in his office and looked out the window. It had rained during the night, and now in the sunlight, white vapors of water rose from the parking lot. The door across the hall was closed as it usually was almost every morning when his boss was talking with Mike, a top marketer for the firm. Knowing the culture of his firm, he had come to believe with some good reasons that closed doors usually indicated bad-mouthing of someone. As a reaction to this, Richard closed his door.
A knock on the door brought him out of his reverie. Luann stood in the hallway. She had auburn hair, and her eyes were heavily made up so that they looked wider than they were. She was in her twenties – a recently graduated chemical engineer in a firm that did no engineering.
“I don’t wanna work today,” she said.
“I don’t either,” he said, and waved her into the office. “Let me guess. I need to complete your performance evaluation, don’t I?”
“Yep,” she said and sat down, pulling her legs up on the seat, like a teenager on the phone.
Richard opened a file folder on his desk. “I was intrigued with what you wrote on the self-evaluation form about what you’d like to be doing.” He read aloud what she wrote: “In a pinch, I could design a distillation column, but we don’t do that here, and I’m not sure I’d want to anyway.”
Luann laughed a high pitched giggle, her hands covering her mouth like a little girl. “I guess I should have been more serious,” she said, then added, “But it’s true, though.”
“The environmental business isn’t always what you’d expect,” he said. “Anyway; you won’t be here forever. We just have to pretend you are and write the evaluation accordingly.”
“I know,” she said. “It’s so hard to fill out that stupid form that asks what your future goals are. Who the hell knows?”
“I don’t even know what mine are,” he said.
Luann laughed loudly at this. “You’d never know it,” she said.
“It’s all an illusion,” he said.
“How did you get into this business?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. How does anyone get into any business? How did you get into it?”
“I wanted an engineering job,” she said. “But I couldn’t find any. I thought this firm did engineering. I mean it isn’t bad, it just isn’t what I expected.”
“Exactly. Sometimes we’re where we want to be. Most of the time we’re not.” He hesitated. “I’ve come to the conclusion that most of the time we’re where we need to be even if it isn’t where we want to be.”
“You’re not like most bosses I’ve had,” she said.
“How many bosses have you had?”
“I guess you’re the only one,” she said; they both laughed.
“Well, you’re right though. I’m not like most bosses. My breach of professional conduct is always done professionally. That said, I’ve got to get to something before my boss gets mad at me,” he said pointing to the computer screen. “I’ll finish your evaluation by tomorrow, I promise.”
For much of the rest of the day he tried to get work done, and was partially successful. Debby’s dream presence made itself known at various points that day. Later in the day after finally abandoning efforts to finish what he had half-heartedly been working on, he cleaned his desk off. He looked at Luann’s performance evaluation form once more and decided to work on it the next day. He heard people talking in the hallway and decided to wait until they were gone before leaving for the day.
He always suspected that his marriage was the product of a good period in his life. He wondered whether it was a fear or a certainty that what had made the relationship good was now missing. They were now in their forties and this was the third such firm where Richard had worked. Andrea now worked for the state water board.
He stood in his office and looked out the window. It had rained during the night, and now in the sunlight, white vapors of water rose from the parking lot. The door across the hall was closed as it usually was almost every morning when his boss was talking with Mike, a top marketer for the firm. Knowing the culture of his firm, he had come to believe with some good reasons that closed doors usually indicated bad-mouthing of someone. As a reaction to this, Richard closed his door.
A knock on the door brought him out of his reverie. Luann stood in the hallway. She had auburn hair, and her eyes were heavily made up so that they looked wider than they were. She was in her twenties – a recently graduated chemical engineer in a firm that did no engineering.
“I don’t wanna work today,” she said.
“I don’t either,” he said, and waved her into the office. “Let me guess. I need to complete your performance evaluation, don’t I?”
“Yep,” she said and sat down, pulling her legs up on the seat, like a teenager on the phone.
Richard opened a file folder on his desk. “I was intrigued with what you wrote on the self-evaluation form about what you’d like to be doing.” He read aloud what she wrote: “In a pinch, I could design a distillation column, but we don’t do that here, and I’m not sure I’d want to anyway.”
Luann laughed a high pitched giggle, her hands covering her mouth like a little girl. “I guess I should have been more serious,” she said, then added, “But it’s true, though.”
“The environmental business isn’t always what you’d expect,” he said. “Anyway; you won’t be here forever. We just have to pretend you are and write the evaluation accordingly.”
“I know,” she said. “It’s so hard to fill out that stupid form that asks what your future goals are. Who the hell knows?”
“I don’t even know what mine are,” he said.
Luann laughed loudly at this. “You’d never know it,” she said.
“It’s all an illusion,” he said.
“How did you get into this business?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. How does anyone get into any business? How did you get into it?”
“I wanted an engineering job,” she said. “But I couldn’t find any. I thought this firm did engineering. I mean it isn’t bad, it just isn’t what I expected.”
“Exactly. Sometimes we’re where we want to be. Most of the time we’re not.” He hesitated. “I’ve come to the conclusion that most of the time we’re where we need to be even if it isn’t where we want to be.”
“You’re not like most bosses I’ve had,” she said.
“How many bosses have you had?”
“I guess you’re the only one,” she said; they both laughed.
“Well, you’re right though. I’m not like most bosses. My breach of professional conduct is always done professionally. That said, I’ve got to get to something before my boss gets mad at me,” he said pointing to the computer screen. “I’ll finish your evaluation by tomorrow, I promise.”
For much of the rest of the day he tried to get work done, and was partially successful. Debby’s dream presence made itself known at various points that day. Later in the day after finally abandoning efforts to finish what he had half-heartedly been working on, he cleaned his desk off. He looked at Luann’s performance evaluation form once more and decided to work on it the next day. He heard people talking in the hallway and decided to wait until they were gone before leaving for the day.
~
On the drive home, he thought about what it would be like to have a child, and what it would be like for that child to be living in the country. Richard had lived in big cities all his life, as had Andrea. If he and Andrea succeeded in having a child, the child would know the country differently than they did; the animals, the birds, where the hidden dirt roads were. He wondered what their child would be like and how he or she would have a different view of the world than the both of them. He then wondered about what he could possibly say to Andrea to make her feel that he believed in the possibility of their having a child. He had talked about adoption in the past, but Andrea felt they were too old; people would want their child to have younger parents she had told him.
He stopped at the vet’s to pick up Sherry. “She’ll be a bit woozy from the anesthetic,” the vet’s assistant told him. He picked up the beagle and kissed her on the head. When he got to the car, he put her on the seat next to him and she curled up in a ball. He pet her as he drove home.
The sun would set in another half hour and traces of daylight remained in the sky before darkness set in. It was mid-January and the days were slowly getting longer. He sat on the couch in the living room, rubbing the little dog behind its ears. Andrea wasn’t home yet; it would probably be another hour until she arrived. He thought about the day – a day like any other day, indistinguishable from the rest.
Maybe his purpose was to have a child, whether it works out or not, he thought and then immediately felt that such thinking was forced and wishful. He wondered if he would want a child if Andrea didn’t want one and felt a sadness settle in his stomach. Andrea sometimes said that she thought he would have been happier if had married Debby. He would tell her that it wouldn’t have worked out; they were too different.
He recalled a part of last night’s dream in which he and Debby kissed; it was both unexpected and expected. After the kiss, Debby stood by the door of the bedroom as if nothing had happened; she was ready to leave. He told his thoughts to her now, about a time, two years ago now, when he and Andrea were on vacation in Italy though it now seemed to have been further in the past.
They were in Florence, inside an ancient church when it started to rain. Other tourists came in from outside for shelter. They stayed for about ten minutes. It didn’t look like it was going to let up any time soon, so they decided to walk back to the hotel. They didn’t have raincoats; just an umbrella.
The instant they stepped into the intense, pouring rain, they heard the rain pounding on the umbrella. No cars or people were on the streets except for them. For one brief incredible moment, they felt perfectly sheltered; they could have been anywhere; they were the only two people on earth.
Any hopes they had of remaining untouched by the rain disappeared less than a minute after they started walking, when strong winds blew the rain under the umbrella. By the time they reached their hotel, they were completely soaked.
In their hotel room they laughed, and took off their clothes. The room was filled with an eerie light from the storm, making Andrea’s lips appear purple and unearthly. They looked at each other. Richard looked at her face until it was no longer recognizable, and what was left was a person who he thought he had never seen before, like looking at or hearing a word for so long it no longer makes sense. What was left was a pretty girl who never wore lipstick. He decided that here was her real beauty, the essence. In that moment he thought that outside of his sudden desire for her, he was in danger of not remembering what she looked like, that he would no longer recognize her as he once knew her.
Debby had now departed, no longer in Richard’s thoughts. The house was starting to get dark; he turned on some lights and wondered what kind of mood Andrea would be in when she came home. He had a vague idea of what he was going to tell her. Something to do with the rainstorm in Florence; of suddenly not knowing where they were; of how anything seemed possible, of people’s real beauty. Something about in the long term, we end up where we’re supposed to be, and in the short term we have to look at it as being in between one crisis or another. What gets us through, he would tell her is an abiding hope that everything will work out. That everything will be just fine.
He stopped at the vet’s to pick up Sherry. “She’ll be a bit woozy from the anesthetic,” the vet’s assistant told him. He picked up the beagle and kissed her on the head. When he got to the car, he put her on the seat next to him and she curled up in a ball. He pet her as he drove home.
The sun would set in another half hour and traces of daylight remained in the sky before darkness set in. It was mid-January and the days were slowly getting longer. He sat on the couch in the living room, rubbing the little dog behind its ears. Andrea wasn’t home yet; it would probably be another hour until she arrived. He thought about the day – a day like any other day, indistinguishable from the rest.
Maybe his purpose was to have a child, whether it works out or not, he thought and then immediately felt that such thinking was forced and wishful. He wondered if he would want a child if Andrea didn’t want one and felt a sadness settle in his stomach. Andrea sometimes said that she thought he would have been happier if had married Debby. He would tell her that it wouldn’t have worked out; they were too different.
He recalled a part of last night’s dream in which he and Debby kissed; it was both unexpected and expected. After the kiss, Debby stood by the door of the bedroom as if nothing had happened; she was ready to leave. He told his thoughts to her now, about a time, two years ago now, when he and Andrea were on vacation in Italy though it now seemed to have been further in the past.
They were in Florence, inside an ancient church when it started to rain. Other tourists came in from outside for shelter. They stayed for about ten minutes. It didn’t look like it was going to let up any time soon, so they decided to walk back to the hotel. They didn’t have raincoats; just an umbrella.
The instant they stepped into the intense, pouring rain, they heard the rain pounding on the umbrella. No cars or people were on the streets except for them. For one brief incredible moment, they felt perfectly sheltered; they could have been anywhere; they were the only two people on earth.
Any hopes they had of remaining untouched by the rain disappeared less than a minute after they started walking, when strong winds blew the rain under the umbrella. By the time they reached their hotel, they were completely soaked.
In their hotel room they laughed, and took off their clothes. The room was filled with an eerie light from the storm, making Andrea’s lips appear purple and unearthly. They looked at each other. Richard looked at her face until it was no longer recognizable, and what was left was a person who he thought he had never seen before, like looking at or hearing a word for so long it no longer makes sense. What was left was a pretty girl who never wore lipstick. He decided that here was her real beauty, the essence. In that moment he thought that outside of his sudden desire for her, he was in danger of not remembering what she looked like, that he would no longer recognize her as he once knew her.
Debby had now departed, no longer in Richard’s thoughts. The house was starting to get dark; he turned on some lights and wondered what kind of mood Andrea would be in when she came home. He had a vague idea of what he was going to tell her. Something to do with the rainstorm in Florence; of suddenly not knowing where they were; of how anything seemed possible, of people’s real beauty. Something about in the long term, we end up where we’re supposed to be, and in the short term we have to look at it as being in between one crisis or another. What gets us through, he would tell her is an abiding hope that everything will work out. That everything will be just fine.
~~~
An earlier version of this story was previously published in Café Lit 2023.
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Barry Garelick has fiction published in Ephemeras, Cafe Lit and Fiction on the Web. His non-fiction pieces have been published in The Atlantic, and Education Next. He lives in Morro Bay, California with his wife.
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Author’s Note:
“Pretty Girls Who Never Wear Lipstick” examines how a dream can follow us the next day like a roadmap of what’s going on in our minds and our lives. The dream in the story is about the mutually recognized sexual attraction between the dreamer and a “pretty girl who never wears lipstick or needs to.” The dream serves as counterpoint to what is happening in the hero’s real life--how the feelings in the dream co-exist and help him to deal with his wife’s depression.
My favorite sentences:
My favorite sentences:
- “Don’t ask me if I’m all right,” she said.
- For much of the rest of the day he tried to get work done, and was partially successful.
- She leapt at a lizard, small and the color of mud.