Part IV: Spin – The Mermaid Dress: #6 (Chapter 68)

I ran my fingers through my hair, still heavy with VO-5, and wished for tame blonde hair like Mother’s.

I had the kind of untamed hair made fun of by boys at school.

“Carrot-top” and “Fuzz-head,” they called me.

I inherited my mother’s green eyes, but I also had big blotchy freckles all over my body. I hated them.

I turned sideways and patted my belly. It stuck out like Mother’s just before Ruby was born.

Fatty, fatty, two by four…

My clothes didn’t help.

For school, I had my choice of four outfits, all of them getting too short and tight around my chest and hips…

Couldn’t get through the kitchen door…

A red, white, and gray striped dress with red bows, a blue crinoline with Swiss dots, a brown corduroy jumper with white blouse, and a gray poodle skirt with pink sweater.

At home I wore faded blue jeans with rolled-up cuffs, a white tee-shirt, and, in the winter, a dark brown cardigan, buttoned up to the neck and spotted with white fuzzballs. My shoes, for both school and play, were a pair of scruffy brown and gray saddle shoes.

Why can’t I be more like Mama?

A flash: I could be more like her. All I had to do was make up my face, fix my hair, and dress in pretty clothes.

If I held my stomach in, I’d look just like Mother, wouldn’t I?

Just stay out of my things, or else.

I shivered at what might happen if I got caught, but why did I have to get caught?

Who’d have to know?

After all, Mother had never found out about the times I stole money from her makeup case. If she did, she never said anything.

Be careful, Princess!

I will, Daddy.

I left the hallway mirror and checked on Ruby. She snored, her left cheek on the rug, mouth wide open, drool running onto the rug.

I went into the kitchen, flicked on the light, and looked around.

No monsters here.

I pulled a Hamm’s from the refrigerator and punched two holes in the top.

I sipped. “Eyuk!” It tasted like unsweetened apple juice, and I spat it into the sink.

I took the beer and went back into the living room, where I sat at Mother’s vanity. In the ashtray, I found a half-smoked cigarette stub with lipstick stains on the filter and held it between my index and second fingers. I wanted to light it, but I was too afraid of fire to strike a match.

I’ll just pretend.

I put the cigarette down and pretended to take another sip from the can.

Dahling!

I opened the top drawer and dug out all kinds of makeup: tubes, bottles, vials, jars, compacts, lipsticks of all kinds, pencils.

I stuck my chin up, lowered my eyelids like Mother always did when she looked at herself in the mirror, and stuck the cigarette between my lips.

Why don’t you settle back...

I drew in a long breath.

And light a Marlboro cigarette…

I picked up an eyebrow pencil.

Making faces in the vanity mirror, I looked like Bozo the Clown, with two red spots on my cheeks and my hair piled on top of my head, hairpins sticking out like black sticks.

Ugh!

Something had to be done.

Mother’s pageboy wig.

Don’t even think about it!

Please listen to your mother.

Just this once, Daddy.

I took the wig from the plastic form and placed it carefully on my head. My own hair popped out at the edges, and I tried stuffing the red fringes inside the wig; I had too much real hair. I pulled the wig down over my ears, some of the hairpins poking through the scalp.

Now you’re going to get it!

Please, Princess...

But I’ll look so pretty....

I poked the pins back through the netting. The pageboy hung past my shoulders. I took the special brush and combed until the hair lay perfectly around my shoulders.

I made some more faces in the mirror, baring my lipstick-stained teeth.

Grrrrr-rrrrrrowlllll!

Even after wiping the lipstick off my teeth, I still looked funny.

I went through Mother’s routine.

Foundation, yes.

Powder, yes.

Rouge, yes.

Lipstick, yes.

Eye shadow, yes.

Eyebrow pencil, yes.

Mascara, yes.

Eyeliner. That was it.

I rooted through the drawer, but I couldn’t find any eyeliner.

I drew lines around my eyes with the eyebrow pencil, but I was no better at drawing straight lines on my eyelids than I was on Winky Dink’s Magic Screen.

I looked like I had two big black eyes.

Dammit!

I shoved all the makeup containers back into the drawer and studied my reflection.

It’d have to do for now.