Part 3

“Oh… Yeah, it was definitely an interesting introduction to the job. I’m sorry, but you are…?”

The woman flinched as though slapped. “Gayle Boyko. We own Boyko Hardware.”

“Right.” Oriana reached her hand out to shake Gayle’s, making sure her sleeve didn’t ride up as she extended her arm. “I’m Oriana, but I guess you already knew that.”

“Honey, the moment someone walks into town, everyone knows it. Doug!” Gayle yelled, turning around. “Our team is here.”

Doug looked up briefly, then readjusted the John Deere cap perched high on his head and turned back to the racks of curling stones. Another man turned a stone over and Doug traced his fingers along the base.

“I know that look,” Gayle said. “This is not good.”

Doug wandered over, wringing his hat in his hands. His salt-and-pepper hair stuck up at odd angles, matching his bushy moustache. “Brooke,” he said with a nod. “Oriana. Glad you could make it.”

“It’s the bonspiel,” he said, turning to Gayle. “They’re moving it to Sunridge.”

“But they said it could work with only two sheets.”

“It’s the rocks. They are due for papering and aren’t bonspiel-worthy in their current shape.”

“Then let’s get them sanded.”

“I’m looking into it,” Doug said, wringing his cap again. “But it’s too late for this year. Hopefully we can host next year if we scrape up enough money to get the rocks done.”

“We could do a fundraiser,” Brooke said.

“We have to do something.” Gayle ran her gloved hand over the end of her broom and shook her head. “If we can’t host two years in a row, Sunridge is never going to let us forget it.”

The town was deep in sleepy silence as Oriana strolled up the cracked sidewalk to her rental house. Even the highway was empty. The taste of beer lingered in her mouth as she tossed her hat and mitts on the top of the closet and hung her coat on the hook. Her belly still ached from laughter, and the beer had numbed her burning skin as strangers took her in like they had known her their entire life. She had built friendships in a matter of hours, and now had a group of people – a whole community – who she could lean on in a pinch. As long as…

Oriana’s smile fell and she wandered past her living room outfitted with two lawn chairs, and down the bare hallway to the bathroom. She flipped the light switch and steadied herself in front of the mirror. With a deep breath, she pulled the turtleneck over her head and dropped it on the floor. Sparkles shimmered off her body, and the slightest movement threw spots of light over the mirror and bathroom walls as though she were a disco ball.

Oriana undid the button on her jeans and let them drop to her ankles. More sparkles bounced from her golden legs. Her fingers bumped over the few bare spots that had almost grown in – almost healed – the scales thicker in those spots.

Pursing her lips, Oriana leaned close to the mirror and tried to find the Sharpie mark she had made on her breastbone but there were just leaves of gold. She palpated the area, trying to remember exactly where she had drawn the border, and if the gold had already grown over the line or if sweat had whisked the black away.

She ran the timeline through her head: seven months, three weeks, and two days since the belly ring piercing. She placed her hand over her belly button and thought back to when the scales had first appeared – a cute golden aura that was maybe an allergic reaction, maybe flakes from the belly ring settling on her skin.