well, and he’s been nipping the whole morning. “¡Vete!”
“ ¡Dios mio! Is that Clara’s girl?”
I look up from the pile of brown curls on the floor. A customer at Lila’s sink is peering at me from under the towel she’s using to guard her eyes. Uh-oh. It’s Beba, the show-off cashier at Lewis Pharmacy. Her daughter, Merci, is studying medicine at Cornell on a full scholarship — which she has to mention in every conversation. Beba used to give me lollipops from behind the counter when I was little. She’s a big lady with shelf boobs and full lips. If you didn’t know better, you could take her for a guy in drag.
“Come here, let me take a look at you!”
Oh, boy.
“Yeah, that’s Piddy.” Lila winks at me as she works up a nice lather. “She’ll be sixteen next week. Gorgeous, right? You should see her with her hair down.”
I stand there feeling a little dumb. Any minute somebody’s going to ask me if I have a boyfriend — or worse, how school’s going.
“She looks just like Clara,” Beba says. “¡Igualita!”
I glance at the mirror. Do I look that sour today? As sour as my mother? This is something I’ve never considered. My dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and I’ve broken out. I suppose she meant it as a compliment, though.
“Gracias.” I force a smile and go back to sweeping.
“Where do the years go?” Beba continues. “Just yesterday, my Merci was playing doctor with her dolls and this one was a sticky-fingered baby, and now look: Merci is studying at Cornell, and Piddy is all grown and beautiful.” She turns to me. “Tell me the truth: I’ll bet the boys die for you.”
My cheeks feel hot. “Not really,” I say.
But Beba isn’t listening.
“Estás hecha una mujer.” She shakes her head sadly. A lot of the salon women tell me this: “You’ve become a woman.” None of them ever sounds too happy about it.
She pulls back her towel again and looks up at Lila as if something has just occurred to her.
“Now that we’re talking about her, how is Clara, anyway? I haven’t seen her in ages. Is she dating anyone?”
I almost laugh out loud. We’re talking about Ma here, after all.
Lila shakes her head. “She says she’s too busy.”
“What woman is too busy for un buen hombre ?”
Lila shakes her head again and sighs.
“I tell her, but she won’t let me fix her up.”
Beba clicks her tongue.
“Who can really blame her, though?” Her eyes cut to me and she finishes her sentence with a knowing look.
I stop pushing my broom. Ma dating is ridiculous. I can’t even picture her enjoying herself here — with her friends. Ma hasn’t set foot in Salón Corazón since I can remember — even though everyone else she knows comes here. She always says you can get just as good a haircut at the beauty school on Main Street for ten bucks, even though I know you’re lucky to get out of there with both your ears still attached.
“Mira para esto,” Lila says, clicking her tongue. “Beba, how could you let your split ends go like this, mija ? Your hair is spongy. I can’t let you out of here looking like this.” She motions to me. “Piddy, por favor , get me the deep conditioner from the back. It’s in the red bottle with the pump top.”
They’re trying to get rid of me, of course. I move off but stop just inside the beaded curtain to listen. Luckily Beba’s voice is big like the rest of her.
“ La pobre Clara. I still remember that terrible day; don’t you?” Beba says. “¡Qué escándalo! Agustín, that two-timer — he broke that woman’s heart forever.”
Fabio trots over and starts to snarl in the doorway. He curls back his lips to show his little razor teeth. His milky eye fixes on me.
“Shut up or I’ll stuff you in the dryer,” I hiss.
But it’s too late. He erupts into a frenzy of yips and lunges. Lila turns around and peers around the doorway where I’m standing. She arches her brow.
“Piddy? Did you find it?”
I have
“ ¡Dios mio! Is that Clara’s girl?”
I look up from the pile of brown curls on the floor. A customer at Lila’s sink is peering at me from under the towel she’s using to guard her eyes. Uh-oh. It’s Beba, the show-off cashier at Lewis Pharmacy. Her daughter, Merci, is studying medicine at Cornell on a full scholarship — which she has to mention in every conversation. Beba used to give me lollipops from behind the counter when I was little. She’s a big lady with shelf boobs and full lips. If you didn’t know better, you could take her for a guy in drag.
“Come here, let me take a look at you!”
Oh, boy.
“Yeah, that’s Piddy.” Lila winks at me as she works up a nice lather. “She’ll be sixteen next week. Gorgeous, right? You should see her with her hair down.”
I stand there feeling a little dumb. Any minute somebody’s going to ask me if I have a boyfriend — or worse, how school’s going.
“She looks just like Clara,” Beba says. “¡Igualita!”
I glance at the mirror. Do I look that sour today? As sour as my mother? This is something I’ve never considered. My dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and I’ve broken out. I suppose she meant it as a compliment, though.
“Gracias.” I force a smile and go back to sweeping.
“Where do the years go?” Beba continues. “Just yesterday, my Merci was playing doctor with her dolls and this one was a sticky-fingered baby, and now look: Merci is studying at Cornell, and Piddy is all grown and beautiful.” She turns to me. “Tell me the truth: I’ll bet the boys die for you.”
My cheeks feel hot. “Not really,” I say.
But Beba isn’t listening.
“Estás hecha una mujer.” She shakes her head sadly. A lot of the salon women tell me this: “You’ve become a woman.” None of them ever sounds too happy about it.
She pulls back her towel again and looks up at Lila as if something has just occurred to her.
“Now that we’re talking about her, how is Clara, anyway? I haven’t seen her in ages. Is she dating anyone?”
I almost laugh out loud. We’re talking about Ma here, after all.
Lila shakes her head. “She says she’s too busy.”
“What woman is too busy for un buen hombre ?”
Lila shakes her head again and sighs.
“I tell her, but she won’t let me fix her up.”
Beba clicks her tongue.
“Who can really blame her, though?” Her eyes cut to me and she finishes her sentence with a knowing look.
I stop pushing my broom. Ma dating is ridiculous. I can’t even picture her enjoying herself here — with her friends. Ma hasn’t set foot in Salón Corazón since I can remember — even though everyone else she knows comes here. She always says you can get just as good a haircut at the beauty school on Main Street for ten bucks, even though I know you’re lucky to get out of there with both your ears still attached.
“Mira para esto,” Lila says, clicking her tongue. “Beba, how could you let your split ends go like this, mija ? Your hair is spongy. I can’t let you out of here looking like this.” She motions to me. “Piddy, por favor , get me the deep conditioner from the back. It’s in the red bottle with the pump top.”
They’re trying to get rid of me, of course. I move off but stop just inside the beaded curtain to listen. Luckily Beba’s voice is big like the rest of her.
“ La pobre Clara. I still remember that terrible day; don’t you?” Beba says. “¡Qué escándalo! Agustín, that two-timer — he broke that woman’s heart forever.”
Fabio trots over and starts to snarl in the doorway. He curls back his lips to show his little razor teeth. His milky eye fixes on me.
“Shut up or I’ll stuff you in the dryer,” I hiss.
But it’s too late. He erupts into a frenzy of yips and lunges. Lila turns around and peers around the doorway where I’m standing. She arches her brow.
“Piddy? Did you find it?”
I have
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