Page 3 of Strange Love

The group falls silent, their empathy palpable as they watch me carefully.

“The girl was kidnapped when she was twelve years old,” I say rapidly on an exhale. “She lived with a cult for years.”

Misty laughs before realizing the gravity of my words. Her mouth turns down momentarily before lifting back up into a gentle smile. She holds my hand and says quietly, “I’m so sorry. We didn’t know.” I peer around the group, my gaze lingering on each woman momentarily.

“How could you?” I say, the words tinged with amusement and love. “It was so long ago, but it’s part of who I am now. That and what happened in the years after returning home.”

Michelle snorts playfully, “Someone should have stopped me before I started bragging about my slutty years. It sounds shallow now, don’t you think?”

“No way,” I chuckle, “It’s awesome.”

The others nod encouragingly at my words. Amy speaks up first, her eyes twinkling with curiosity, “We would like to hear about it.”

Michelle jokingly joins in, grinning wildly as she looks at the empty wine bottle in the center of the table and makes a comical reference, “You’re gonna need a bigger boat.”

The comment breaks the tension, and we all laugh heartily. Misty quietly gets up for more wine while I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a beat. When they open again, the words come naturally. “When I was twelve years old…”

Chapter 2

“Time After Time”

Ivy - Age 12, 1982

“Pamela Taylor! COME ON DOWN! You’re the next contestant on The Price is Right!“ The familiar cadence of Johnny Olson’s voice booms through the studio as the newest contestant makes her way down to contestants’ row. Her face is painted with a wide smile as she jumps and claps with unrestrained glee, only for her oversized orange nametag to nearly slide off her chest. The other contestants stand nervously beside her, eyes darting between each other as if searching for the magical answer of how to get up on that stage.

Bob Barker strolls across the platform, looking impossibly slick in his gray suit and royal blue tie. His chocolate brown hair sharpens his appearance, combed back effortlessly, along with his stark white teeth, which stand out in contrast to his golden tan skin.

He raises the microphone to his lips, beckoning the contestants with his kind intonation before turning to the side with a sweep of his arm as the curtains part to reveal a beautiful red-headed model dressed in a stunning coat.

“Here’s the first item up for bids. “IT’S A FUR COAT!” Johnny announces, and the contestants jump up and down, eyes wide with wonder, as the model performs a graceful turn in the exotic and expensive-looking pelt.

“The one of you who bids the closest without going over wins,” Bob announces. Martha goes first with a bid of $150. My mom purses her lips around her cigarette and rolls her eyes toward the television set. “That coat costs way more than that,” she mutters disapprovingly.

Madeline is next. She makes a bid of $1000, which is met with an eruption of shock from the entire audience. Mom snubs out her cigarette in the giant ashtray I made in school that sits atop the coffee table and shakes her head. “That’s way too much,” she scolds.

Nancy leans into her microphone and confidently announces her bid of $400. My mother watches with silent admiration at Nancy’s bid.

Finally, it’s Pamela’s turn to bid. She listens to the audience members shout out numbers and pauses for a few moments as if deep in thought before declaring her answer of $401. Being the last contestant to bid is the best place to be, so you can evaluate your number based on what everyone else has done. Pamela is lucky she was called last.

Johnny’s voice cuts through the silence: “The actual retail price is $595.”

Pamela freezes briefly before jumping in place as Bob declares her the winner. The other contestants feign excitement for her in the name of sportsmanship but are disappointed. Who wouldn’t be? The coat is gorgeous.

Pamela races across the stage, her tight jeans swishing around her ankles. Reaching Bob, she kisses his cheek before standing beside him on the stage, highlighted against the lime green and orange backdrop. I don’t think I’ll kiss Bob when I’m on the show. It’s too creepy.

Bob tells us it’s time for Pamela to see what she will be bidding on just before Johnny’s melodic voice echoes out, “IT’S A NEW CAR!” as the curtains split, revealing a shiny red Oldsmobile convertible gleaming off the fluorescent lights in the center of the stage. A leggy brunette drapes herself over it. She, too, is wearing the fur coat from earlier over her shimmery, gold leotard. A car! The holy grail of potential prizes! Pamela is so lucky, I think, and then I wince as I try to swallow, my throat raw from coughing.

“Mom, can I have some cream of tomato soup?” I ask.

“Of course, Sweetie. Just wait until the commercial,” she replies, still glued to our television, which takes up most of the opposite wall with its substantial wooden frame.

Pamela’s hands tremble as Bob announces she will be playing Lucky Seven. That’s a challenging game. She’s given $7 from Bob, and she has to guess the price of the car. Every time she is wrong, he takes money away. If he takes all $7, she loses.

She selects her first number, and Bob’s eyes widen in anticipation. She chooses six, but the number is seven. The audience groans along with my mom from her spot on the couch.

Pamela peels a dollar bill and hands it to Bob, who quips, “Close but no cigar.”

With a deep breath, Pamela announces her second guess: four. But the correct answer is one. Bob snaps up three more dollars from Pamela’s diminishing stash. She only has three dollars left, her final chance to win the car slipping through her fingers like sand through an hourglass.