Dmitri. “You should see it when Ken waxes his back.”
I didn’t know who Ken was, nor did I care about his back hair. I tried slipping back into a daydream, but Johanna halted all my efforts with another
riiiiip
.
I swear my skin was numb by the time she was done. Though I was red and feeling rather irritable, Johanna looked satisfied.
“Okay,
now
you look good,” she said.
This sort of back-and-forth work continued all day. Dmitri spent at least an hour on my hair, not including the time it took to give me highlights. He talked with Johanna and Josie over my head, moving from Ken, who was apparently his significant other, to how much he hated Helen, Ken’s sister. I learned more about Dmitri’s family life in twenty minutes than I knew about my own, though it had the upside of making me feel normal. Mimi and I had our arguments and disagreements, but I certainly did not gossip about her for an hour to my other catty friends.
Rosa came in to do my makeup. She told the other three to watch TV. They followed orders without a single glance back at me.
“What about my dress?” I asked her. “I left it in Ezekiel’s car.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that, sweetheart. Ezekiel had it delivered to me. It’s folded up nice and perfect in my bag. But you wait for that. That’s the last step. Right now we’ve got to put your face on.”
They’d cleaned up my face with wet wipes an hour ago, but Rosa rubbed off all the leftover smudges. Her hands were gentle and her expression soft, unlike her peers.
“I’m sorry for putting you through all this,” she said as she knelt in front of me. “I can see how much you hate it.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Painfully.” Rosa gazed at me a long time before she patted my face dry. She pulled out some eyeliner. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“Because beauty should be a labor of love, and I hate to put anyone through unnecessary trauma.”
Rosa placed the side of her hand on my cheek, biting her lip as she started the first line along my lower lid. I tried not to blink and disturb her work.
“Where are you from?” she asked.
“Metro.”
“You know, I used to live in Metro,” she told me softly.
“Really?” I whispered in disbelief. This beautiful, put-together young woman had once walked the streets of my hometown? While it seemed impossible, she did appear to have Jahralian roots, and most Jahralians hadn’t the money or resources to live anywhere outside of Metro. Jahral was impoverished and war-torn, and in comparison Metro didn’t look so bad.
“Yes. I lived in a foster home with my younger brother. When I was eighteen, I got a full-ride academic scholarship to a school downtown. I was able to stay and work at home while taking classes.”
“You went to college?”
“Of course.”
“But then why are you a…cosmetologist?”
She smiled gently. “Oh, hon, I have a degree in business. You think Ezekiel just picked us individuals off the street? No, the others are my employees. I came along because I was curious about what sort of woman a man like Ezekiel would choose.”
“What happened to your brother?”
She shrugged. “He graduated high school with straight A’s. I asked him if he wanted to room with me, but he wanted to get his own place. I suddenly lost contact with him. I never saw him and he never called. When I tried calling, he never answered. I emailed, I looked around the address he gave me…nothing. I was beginning to think he was dead.”
“But he wasn’t,” I murmured, knowing this story all too well.
She nodded. Her hand trembled a bit as she finished the line beneath my eye. “No. He’d fallen in with some bad people after graduation. He was ambitious… He wanted to be wealthy, and they told him he could be.”
“He began selling drugs.”
“Yes. I heard rumors that he killed a few people but wouldn’t believe them. My brother had never been violent. Then I heard the cops had found him. He’s in jail.
I didn’t know who Ken was, nor did I care about his back hair. I tried slipping back into a daydream, but Johanna halted all my efforts with another
riiiiip
.
I swear my skin was numb by the time she was done. Though I was red and feeling rather irritable, Johanna looked satisfied.
“Okay,
now
you look good,” she said.
This sort of back-and-forth work continued all day. Dmitri spent at least an hour on my hair, not including the time it took to give me highlights. He talked with Johanna and Josie over my head, moving from Ken, who was apparently his significant other, to how much he hated Helen, Ken’s sister. I learned more about Dmitri’s family life in twenty minutes than I knew about my own, though it had the upside of making me feel normal. Mimi and I had our arguments and disagreements, but I certainly did not gossip about her for an hour to my other catty friends.
Rosa came in to do my makeup. She told the other three to watch TV. They followed orders without a single glance back at me.
“What about my dress?” I asked her. “I left it in Ezekiel’s car.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that, sweetheart. Ezekiel had it delivered to me. It’s folded up nice and perfect in my bag. But you wait for that. That’s the last step. Right now we’ve got to put your face on.”
They’d cleaned up my face with wet wipes an hour ago, but Rosa rubbed off all the leftover smudges. Her hands were gentle and her expression soft, unlike her peers.
“I’m sorry for putting you through all this,” she said as she knelt in front of me. “I can see how much you hate it.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Painfully.” Rosa gazed at me a long time before she patted my face dry. She pulled out some eyeliner. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“Because beauty should be a labor of love, and I hate to put anyone through unnecessary trauma.”
Rosa placed the side of her hand on my cheek, biting her lip as she started the first line along my lower lid. I tried not to blink and disturb her work.
“Where are you from?” she asked.
“Metro.”
“You know, I used to live in Metro,” she told me softly.
“Really?” I whispered in disbelief. This beautiful, put-together young woman had once walked the streets of my hometown? While it seemed impossible, she did appear to have Jahralian roots, and most Jahralians hadn’t the money or resources to live anywhere outside of Metro. Jahral was impoverished and war-torn, and in comparison Metro didn’t look so bad.
“Yes. I lived in a foster home with my younger brother. When I was eighteen, I got a full-ride academic scholarship to a school downtown. I was able to stay and work at home while taking classes.”
“You went to college?”
“Of course.”
“But then why are you a…cosmetologist?”
She smiled gently. “Oh, hon, I have a degree in business. You think Ezekiel just picked us individuals off the street? No, the others are my employees. I came along because I was curious about what sort of woman a man like Ezekiel would choose.”
“What happened to your brother?”
She shrugged. “He graduated high school with straight A’s. I asked him if he wanted to room with me, but he wanted to get his own place. I suddenly lost contact with him. I never saw him and he never called. When I tried calling, he never answered. I emailed, I looked around the address he gave me…nothing. I was beginning to think he was dead.”
“But he wasn’t,” I murmured, knowing this story all too well.
She nodded. Her hand trembled a bit as she finished the line beneath my eye. “No. He’d fallen in with some bad people after graduation. He was ambitious… He wanted to be wealthy, and they told him he could be.”
“He began selling drugs.”
“Yes. I heard rumors that he killed a few people but wouldn’t believe them. My brother had never been violent. Then I heard the cops had found him. He’s in jail.
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