Ugly Duckling Girls

The reading room is hazy as you step inside today. The burnt orange carpet under your feet is thick. The pillows and blankets on the nook are velvet, in olive, goldenrod and rusty red, and a deep chocolate brown. All of them have tassels. And you’re surprised to find that there’s a record player in the corner. It’s volume set just loud enough to be heard. The book is there, its green leather vibrant…but don’t get too comfortable, this one’s not a pretty little ditty…

“When dreams were all they gave for free

To ugly duckling girls like me”   -Janis Ian

The doctor looked at Mom and smiled in a way that made Bett’s stomach feel funny.

“So,” Mom said, she made the word long and quiet. It made Bett think of caterpillar feet undulating over the back of her hand. Mom had a tissue that she was twisting and untwisting, bits of white fluff drifting from it like snow.

“Mrs. Wittmore, you have two other daughters, isn’t that correct?” asked the doctor and his smile flattened out like it was tired and needed to lay down.

Bett didn’t like this office. The room smelled sharp somehow, or sour, she wasn’t sure, all she knew was it made her nose hurt. The silver table she was sitting on was cold and covered in what looked like tracing paper which crackled with her every move. But the worst was how this place made Mom talk. Like she was the kid, not Bett.

“Delphi and Moragin,” Mom told the doctor.

“And Betthany here is your youngest?” He said, but it didn’t sound like he was asking Mom. Just, telling her like she didn’t already know.

Mom nodded, the tissue twisted into a tight cord. She sighed. The tissue untwisted and a piece seesawed to the floor.

“And they are both in school, they’re well adjusted,” He said, and Bett noticed a fat mole on the side of his neck. She made a face and looked away. 

Mom nodded again.

“They’re fifteen and seventeen,” he told her. 

Mom nodded.

“Boyfriends?” The doctor actually asked this time.

“Oh, yes! They’ve done quite well. I suspect they’ll be wonderful mothers and wives when the time comes,” Mom said, but she still sounded weird. She was talking fast, and that tissue was about to rip in half with how much she was twisting and untwisting. Twisting and untwisting.

“So here’s where things stand, Mrs. Wittmore. You’ve done well with your first two, they’re poised and talented. They’ve developed into appealing young women who will contribute to our society very well,” he tapped a blue folder that sat on the counter next to a jar of big white cotton balls. “Betthany, well, it looks as if she won’t be following in her big sister’s footsteps.”

Mom’s hands stopped twisting. The tissue sagged, then fell—light as a feather—to the floor. Her shoes had been covered in fluff. But the soft puff of air from the tissue stirred the tissue dust into a flurry around Mom’s shiny black heels.

“Doctor?” Mom whispered.

“Now, don’t be too upset, Mrs. Wittmore. You have two very lovely daughters. I assure you, your contribution to this world is sound. You have done better than so many mothers out there that can’t even give us one daughter.” The doctor moved to stand next to Mom, putting his spotty old hand on her arm. “And really, The Dreaming is a wonderful alternative to the way things used to be done. Betthany will be in a place none of us can even imagine. She’ll be well cared for, and all of it is provided by the Council. In other countries, the families of the Ugly Duckling are forced to pay for Dreams. You’re looking at this all wrong. Two beauties, and only one UD, or, Ugly Duckling! Mrs. Wittmore, you should be thanking your lucky stars. Some mothers have had to give all their daughters up to dreams.” 

Bett’s stomach didn’t just feel funny now, it felt sick. “I don’t want dreams,” she tried to yell, tried to be really loud, but her words were all air. All fluff.

“Oh, Bett,” Mom said and knelt down to wrap her up in a tight hug.

“My tummy hurts,” Bett whispered in her mom’s ear. Momma smelled of powder and roses, her arms were too tight, but Bett didn’t mind.

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” Mom whispered back, and it sounded like she might have been crying.

“Oh, hey now, Betthany,” the doctor was kneeling now too, trying to look into Bett’s eyes. She buried her face in her mom’s hair and whimpered. His quiet laugh followed her into the golden silk of Momma’s curls.

“Can we have a week before dreams so she can spend time with her sisters and Mr. Wittmore, Doctor?” Momma said, holding Bett close.

“Why would you prolong the inevitable, Mrs. Wittmore? Again, it seems like a hard thing, but that’s only because she’s your first, and dare I say, only, UD. I’m certain the new child will be just as lovely as the first two. Why, Mrs. Wittmore, I don’t know a single woman who doesn’t give birth to at least one Ugly Duckling!  It’s nothing to be dramatic over. Besides, you’re not very pretty when you’re emotional, now are you? What would your husband say if he saw you this way?” The doctor’s hands were suddenly on Bett’s shoulders, he turned her and she twisted like Mom’s tissue. “Betthany, tell your mother you like having dreams! Imagine, you could dream up any world you wanted. A world full of ponies and wedding dresses!”

Bett scowled. “Ponies bite,” she informed the doctor.

His scraggly eyebrows went up and he laughed, saying, “I suppose they do,” like she’d just said the “darndest thing.”

Mom sucked in a quick breath and pushed it back out. Her shoulders went back and she looked into Bett’s eyes. “Bett, my baby girl, you’re going to love The Dreaming!”

Bett let her mouth fall open, her eyes felt like they might just pop out of her face. “Mama?” she peeped.

“Be my brave girl! Bett, my fierce little chipmunk,” Mom whispered.

“Now, there, Mrs. Wittmore, those are things I’d not like to hear you tell this new one,” he nodded at Mom’s stomach. “Those are ugly words for a little girl to hear.”

Momma seemed ashamed. But she gave Bett a smile that looked like it made her hurt.

“Momma,” Bett said again. Momma just looked over Bett’s head and nodded once.

There was a sudden snapping pain in the back of her arm. And then all at once she felt tired. The last thing she saw before she was swallowed up by dreams was Mom’s big blue eyes, glimmering with tears.

Note:

This story is the first of an ongoing series inspired by lyrics suggested by friends. If you’ve got a favorite line from a song, I’d love to hear it in the comments, and I’ll see what I can dream up.

If any of my stories spark something in you, please feel free to make your own art in response! I’d love to see what you create, whether it’s a sketch, a snippet of writing, or something entirely different. I’m eager to feature original art in place of the stock photos I’m using for now.

Just keep in mind, my pieces are creative sketches, rough drafts that I don’t stress over. So if you want to share, know that your doodle is equal to my writing doodle. I’m not looking for masterpieces (though I won’t turn them down). Just scraps. You know, the things that get stuck in your head and have no bigger picture to fit into. Yeah, those are my favorite.

Thanks for reading.
—K