Invisible (19 page)

Today, I go for my first ever manicure and pedicure, and I’m a little nervous, not knowing what to expect and because I’m afraid of turning into
that
type of girl. All those years of watching Eva and Mom making themselves look like strippers, turned me off every kind of female pampering there is. Yet, something has awakened inside me; my inner goddess, I guess. Mom says all women have one. But I think it’s Jon who’s lit a fire in my heart and helped me realize I
do
want to look my best, but on my own terms.

I’ve promised to take care of myself because finally, I feel as if I’m worth the effort. The pounds are still melting off and I’ve even had to have my grad dress taken in and that was a thrill-and-a-half! I snuck away to the mall and bought shoes and actually had fun shoe-shopping all by my lonesome. They’re silver/gray spiky heels that tie around the ankle. When I put them on, I’ve got to be at least six feet tall, but I’ll hold my head high and throw my shoulders back, embracing my height. It’s me, after all, and if I’m going to love myself, I’ve gotta love every inch.

Make-up still throws me for a loop and I’m at a loss when it comes to shopping for it. I don’t quite trust my own taste and I’m easing my way into the foreign territory of the cosmetics section of the department store, stopping every so often to ask for samples and try the testers. I thought about asking Eva to help me pick some stuff, but instead, I’ll ask to borrow her suitcase of make-up. If she says no, I’ll pull out Mom’s stash. She doesn’t have as much, but at least I know she won’t mind.

Tomorrow morning I have an appointment at the salon. I can’t remember the last time I had my hair styled by a really good hairdresser. I usually go into one of those cheap places at the mall where they don’t even wash your hair, just spritz it with a water bottle, give you a quick trim and $15 later, you’re out the door, without even a blow dry.

I’m more of a girl than I thought.

Charlie’s at the nail salon before me, waiting outside with a large tea and a croissant. “I’m only here to keep you company. I’m not wasting my money on these girly things,” she proclaims, shaking her head. “And I never thought you were the type either.”

“
I suppose it’s Jon. He’s bringing out my inner diva.” I bat my eyelashes exaggeratedly.

She hands me the tea and napkin-wrapped croissant.

“
Thanks,” I say, surprised they’re for me.

Thank goodness the pedicure is first. I doubt I’d be able to eat and drink while getting a manicure. I choose a muted pink polish, pull my pant legs up, exposing my freshly shaven legs and slip my feet into the relaxing warmth of the pulsating water. Embarrassment at this self-indulgence competes with my newfound confidence, but I manage to push the feelings away. I’m not selling out. I’m becoming the me who was always there, under the quiet, rough exterior.

After my pedicure, I get a French manicure. My nails are beautiful in their classy elegance and I want to keep them up. The salon owner tells me to come back in two weeks for a fill and I pretend to know what that means.

“
Do you want to get your hair done with me tomorrow morning?” I ask Charlie as we leave the nail salon on our way to her house.

“
Naw. I’m good with doin’ it myself.” She sighs. “You scared?”

“
Why would I be scared?”

“
You know… about the Nino thing?”

Her question breaks my good mood. I am scared. “A little,” I answer.

Nino’s avoided me like the plague since the day in the courtyard and that’s fine with me. The less I see of him, the better. But we’ll be together for the graduation ceremony and when he goes up on stage for his award, I’ll have to vanish and trail him to make sure he reads the speech I wrote. Fear begins to creep around in my belly at the thought of what I’ll have to do if he doesn’t read it. With thumb and forefinger, I give my temples a quick rub to stave off the headache blooming there.

My eyes find Charlie. An unsure smile settles on her lips and her eyebrows arch into a question mark. “You still on board? You can still do the invisible thing, right?”

The last time I vanished was the day in the courtyard with Nino and if he hadn’t thrown that rock at me, I’m not sure I would have winked out. I’m fearful my good moods are keeping me grounded, too grounded to disappear.

“
Yeah, yeah, don’t worry.” I hope I sound convincing.

Charlie heaves a sigh. “You’re so different now, Lola. You’ve lost your edge.”

I smile. “I know. I feel like a new person.”

A frown creases her forehead. “But I like the old Lola.”

Her words hit like a jackhammer to the chest. “I’m just trying to better myself. I want to be pretty and lose weight and be accepted.” My tone is defensive.

“
Listen to what you’re saying. You’re selling out. I’m not saying you shouldn’t look nice, but don’t lose yourself in the process. Don’t change yourself for a
boy
, or for what you think everyone else’s version of pretty is.”

“
That’s not what I’m doing. I really am doing all this for me.” I search her eyes for understanding and to make sure she believes me. “It makes me happy to look nice. What’s wrong with that?”

We’re silent for a moment, then Charlie takes my hand. “Nothing,” she says finally. “Just don’t leave me behind, okay?”

I give her hand a squeeze. “I love you, Charlie. I
really
do. You’re my best friend and I will never
ever
leave you behind.”

A smile sweeps across her face and tears well in her eyes. She pulls me into her arms and holds tight. Time slowly passes, measured by the beating of our hearts. Then her lips meet mine in a soft, sweet lingering kiss.

She pulls away. “Oh, my God, Lola, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Her eyes are wide, searching my expression, looking for something… but what? Anger? Shock?
Desire
?

Charlie backs away, eyes still glued to mine. Then she turns and bolts up her front steps, leaving me on the sidewalk in front of her house. The door slams shut behind her.

My walk home is one of dazed confusion and fear. I’m afraid that what’s just happened will change things between us forever. Embarrassment and a peculiar sensation in the pit of my stomach follow me like a guilty conscience.

When I get home, Jon’s waiting on the front steps of my house. He stands as I approach, and a broad grin spans the width of his face.

“
Hi. I rang the bell and no one was home, so I thought I’d wait. Hope that’s okay and not creepy,” he says.

I can’t help it. I jump into his arms, nearly sending the two of us backwards into the rose bushes.

“
Whoa, what’s going on?” he asks into my hair as I hug him to me.

“
Nothing. I’m just glad you’re here.”

“
I’m glad I am too.” He holds me at arm’s length. “Are you sure you’re okay? Is it tomorrow? Are you freaked out about it?”

I nod vigorously. “Yeah, that’s it. I’m nervous about grad and the Nino thing.” I pull him by the hand up the front steps and into the house.

I make us a cup of tea, even though the last thing I want is another one since downing the extra large orange pekoe Charlie brought me. My bladder is near exploding. I excuse myself and run to the bathroom.

When I get back to the kitchen, I’m tempted to tell Jon what happened with Charlie, but loyalty to my friend prevents it. I don’t think Charlie would want him to know. It’s kinda like she just hit on his girlfriend and might make things weird between them. But there’s nothing that can take away the weirdness that’s now hanging between Charlie and me. How am I going to face her at graduation tomorrow?

An odd mix of emotions run through me. Charlie’s kiss was tender and sweet and strangely exciting. For a moment, I consider I just might be a lesbian, after all, but the thought passes when I remember the power of Jon’s kisses

his make me dizzy and knock me off my feet.

“
Where are your parents and sister?” Jon asks.

“
Not home.”

He throws me a mischievous smile, an eyebrow arches and he slowly rises.

For the second time in less than an hour, I’m kissed. I throw my arms around the boy I love and kiss him back in closed-eyed ecstasy.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Butterflies rumble uncomfortably, and cramps knife my stomach, sending waves of nausea through me. It’s the morning of graduation and the way I see it, there are only two ways this day can end, with the humiliation of failure, or with sweet revenge. From a place higher than myself, maybe even from God, I get the distinct feeling that whatever this day brings, it will set the tone for the rest of my life. This day will be epic!

Eva’s in the bathroom. I knock softly on the door and she yanks it open, a toothbrush sticks out of her Colgate-foamed mouth.

“
What do you want?” Her words are garbled.

“
Will you help me today?” I ask with hesitation.

She spits and rinses, then replaces her toothbrush it in its holder. “With what?”

“
Getting ready for graduation?”

She studies me for a moment then shrugs. “Why not? When do you need me?”

Secretly, I don’t think Eva can resist an opportunity for a makeover. She lives for them. “I’ve got a hair appointment at 10:30, the ceremony is at 1:30, but the dance is at night, so could you help me get ready for the dance?”

“
Okay. Come get me when you need me.”

“
Thanks.” Relief fills me. That was easier than I thought.

Eva gives me a flicker of a smile and steps out of the bathroom. I move forward to enter and she stops me with a light touch on the hand. “You look good lately, Lola. You’ve lost a bit of weight.”

I beam. “Really? You can tell?”

“
Yeah, sure, but you’ve still got a long way to go.” She continues on her way and my smile goes out. After all the times Eva’s been mean to me, you’d think I would have learned my lesson by now, but I fall into her trap every time. Something in me wants to believe there’s good in her and that there’s hope for us, as sisters.

After brushing my teeth and dressing, I head to the kitchen.

Mom’s at the table with her coffee. “Are you excited?” she asks.

“
A little,” I say as I fill a bowl with cereal and milk and sit.

“
Dad will be home early today. He had a couple of things to take care of at the shop.” She wraps her hands around her mug and smiles, eyes trained on me. “This is it, Lola, honey. You’re off to university in September. I can’t believe it. You know you’ll be the first in the family to go.” Now her hands are clasped together in front of her chest and she looks like she’s praying. “Have you decided on a major?”

I’d been trying not to have this conversation. Mom knows about my aspirations, but I think she’s convinced herself I’m going to change my mind once I actually get to university. If I tell her I’ve decided to major in English so I can be a writer, she’ll think it’s a waste of time and money. Neither of my parents graduated high school and though hard working, their blue collar backgrounds have given them a practical, feet firmly planted on the ground approach to life. They don’t think in terms of careers, only jobs and a great future to them is if I snag an office job at a company with benefits and a pension.

Dad’s an auto mechanic and Mom used to work at the nail salon until things got slow. Now she’s a cashier at No Frills. But deep inside her lurks the soul of an artist. I’ve witnessed it. As a matter of fact, I see it each and every day right on her face. To Mom, make-up is paint and her face is the canvas. A sudden inspiration sneaks up on me.

“
Mom, you know how you tell me all the time you wished you hadn’t dropped out of beauty school?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

“
Why is that?”

She sips her coffee and purses her lips thoughtfully. “I guess it’s because I really loved making women look the best they could.”

“
So, you liked to bring out their best qualities?”

“
I guess.”

“
And how did you do that?”

“
Lola, what’s with all the questions all of a sudden?”

I heave a sigh. “Just answer me.”

She throws up her hands. “Okay, okay. Just don’t know what you’re getting at.” She stares off into the distance, as if tugging at the memories, trying to pull them into her mind. “I really loved making their eyes beautiful,” she says finally. “I think eye make-up, if done well, is the most important thing a woman can do to enhance her looks. That and hair extensions, of course.”

I try not to roll my eyes at the mention of hair extensions. “And when you did their eye make-up, was it similar to painting a portrait? I mean, with all the mixing and blending of the eye shadows? Knowing where to put what color?”

Her eyes shine and her face breaks into a huge smile. “Yes, that’s a great way to put it, Lola. You’ve pegged it.”

Bingo! Eva’s not the only one good at setting traps in this family. “That feeling is the creative energy in you coming to the surface. I think it comes straight from God, into our souls and we bring it into the world for others to appreciate. We all have that potential. I know Grandma Rose had it.”