I have bolted the doors, drawn the drapes, and made sure I have plenty of room on my answering machine for messages. Everyone at work thinks I have gone to a luxury spa along the coast for my vacation. All my friends and neighbors think so, too. I didn’t even tell my very best friend, Deeva, my secret. She has a tendency to use my secrets when she has run out of conversation material.

“Fresh air,” I told everyone. “That’s all I need! 

I’ll come back to the office feeling rejuvenated. Why, you probably won’t recognize me because I’ll look like a new person. You know what they say about the sea air being good for your complexion.”

No one needed to know that the resort spa was really a surgical clinic, and the fresh air was a surgeon who cut skin off my eyes and neck, scraped wrinkles off my face, and tweaked my nose. The white lies were useful only because I didn’t want anyone to try to talk me out of cosmetic surgery. This is the beginning of the new me. Right now I have a head wrapped in bandages with the designer look of a mummy.     

When I returned home from the clinic, I had all I needed– icepacks, grease for the scabs, and a bottle of valium. The doc gave me valium to keep me calm and enable me to sleep on my back. I can hardly keep my eyes open.

Oh, no! The doorbell! Who’s out there? Is it my nosey neighbor next door? The UPS man? A stranger? Someone from the office?

Read next week’s Sheeva. Will she open the door? Will she reveal her secret? If you wish to share something with Sheeva, send an email to mimi@sc.rr or write to Box 5955, Columbia, SC 29250.