The Art of Life (9 page)

               
“Sit
back down and I will show you how to flip your ends,” she replies, with a big
smile.

               
So,
I do.
 
When I we finally stop and my hair
is all done.
 
My chest actually
tightens.
 
“It’s so pretty,” I
practically cry.

               
“You
are so pretty,” Debbie says from behind me.

               
“I
never thought I would look like this,” I say, trying really hard to keep the
tears back.

               
Debbie smiles.
 
“You
just needed a little help.
 
Now, do you
want me to do your make-up?”

               
“I
have never had any make-up on, like ever,” I reply, being very serious.

               
“Well
then, we have more than enough time to teach you that, too,” she states.
 
“Come on.”

               
If
my heart swells anymore, it may burst.
 
We walk over to the make-up area and Debbie sits me down on a
chair.
 
I look at the display.
 
“That is way overwhelming.”

               
“We
are not going to go all crazy on you.
 
With your coloring, we should keep it natural and simple.
 
So, you have never applied make-up, never
used any color?”

               
My
eyes open wide.
 
“No, but I am an artist,
so I can’t believe that it is too different.”

               
“No,
that’s great,” Debbie says.
 
“We will go
over the basics that you need.
 
You have
great skin and good even skin tone, so you don’t really need a foundation.
 
If you want to use something then you can use
a powder.
 
You put that on first.”
 
She takes out a color and spreads it lightly
on my face.
 
“Next, we put on eye
shadow.
 
You want to use these colors
because of the blue in your eyes.”

               
Groaning,
I say, “I hate the color of my eyes.
 
They are so dull.”

               
“Not
when you use the right make-up.
 
Just
watch.”
 
She puts on the colors and
instructs me how to do it.
 
Then she
moves onto eye liner and then mascara.
 
When
we are done, Debbie grins broadly.
 
“Do
you want to see yourself?”

               
“I
am nervous,” I reply.

               
“Don’t
be, you look beautiful,” she states.
 
“Come here.”
 
Grabbing my hand,
she pulls me to the mirror.

               
When
I look into it my heart drops.
 
“That
doesn’t even look like me,” I gasp.

               
“Yes,
it does,” she says gently.
 
“It’s the
adult you.”

               
I
actually look…well…pretty.
 
Maybe, not
Debbie pretty, but for me, I look pretty.
 
My hair frames my face now.
 
The
ends flip out on the bottom.
 
The
highlights make me look great.
 
I finally
look like a real girl.

               
“Oh,”
Debbie exclaims.
 
“We forgot your lips.”

               
“I
don’t think I would look good with anything on them,” I retort.

               
Waving
her hand, Debbie says, “That’s silliness.
 
You have the perfect mouth for lip stick and stuff.
 
Here we will just put some gloss on you to
start.”
 
She takes it out and applies it
gently.

               
Suddenly,
the receptionist comes walking up behind us.
 
“That cute guy is back for your client.”

               
“We
are all done anyway,” Debbie retorts.

               
Turning
around, I look at the receptionist.
 
She
does a double take.
 
“Wow, you look
great!” She exclaims.
 
Suddenly, putting
her foot in her mouth, she says, “Not that you didn’t before.”

               
“No,”
I interject.
 
“There is a big difference,
don’t worry.”

               
Debbie
just smiles.
 
“Let’s get your stuff and
get you to Jeremy.”

               
Now,
I’m nervous.
 
As, we
walk up to the front of the salon, my stomach tightens and I feel like I am
going to hurl.
 
When we turn the
corner, Jeremy has his back to us.
 
“We
are done,” Debbie declares.

               
Jeremy
turns around and he falters a little.
 
“Wow,
Isabelle, you look fantastic!”

               
I
wonder if he can see me blush through the make-up.
 
“Thanks,” I whisper.

               
He
smiles and says, “Do you like it?”

               
“I
love it,” I gush.
 
“I can’t even believe
I am the same person.”

               
“You
are definitely the same person,” he replies.
 
“Now, go outside so I can take care of this.”

               
Stepping
forward, I state, “I can get money from my mom.
 
I can’t believe that this isn’t going to be expensive.”

               
“I
told you,” he replies.
 
“I am paying for
it.
 
Trust me, it’s alright.
 
Go outside and wait.”

               
“Wait,”
I turn to Debbie.
 
“Thank you so
much.
 
You have no idea what this means
to me.”

               
She
comes over and hugs me.
 
“You need to
come back and see me again, alright?”

               
“Definitely,”
I reply.
 
I look at Jeremy.
 
“Are you sure I should go outside?”

               
“Yes,”
he says.
 
“Go, go,
go
.”

               
Rolling
my eyes, I head to the door.
 
When I walk
outside, I don’t see his bike anywhere.
 
I wonder where he parked.
 
Oh
well, I wait at the door.
 
A little while
later, Jeremy comes walking out of the salon.
 
He is carrying a bag.
 
“Here,” he
says, “This is yours.
 
Debbie says
everything you need is in here.”

               
I
take the bag and look inside.
 
All the
hair product she showed me and make-up that I used
is in the bag.
 
“Jeremy,” I gasp.
 
“This had to have cost a fortune!”

               
“Eh,”
he replies, shrugging his shoulders.
 
“We
are all good.”
       

               
“I
have to give you something for this,” I demand.

               
 
He shakes his head and articulates, “You
aren’t giving me anything for this.
 
We
need to go get you a flat iron now.
 
I
really hope you know what in the world that is.”

               
“Yeah,”
I reply.
 
“Let me stop and try and get
money from my mom.”

               
Giving
me a look, Jeremy sighs.
 
“That really
isn’t necessary.”

               
“You
are a part time bike mechanic, it is necessary,” I reply.
 
“You have things like rent and bills to pay.”

               
“Umm,”
he replies, staring at the ground.
 
“Those things are true, but….never mind.
 
If you feel the need, we can stop back at your house.”

               
Against
my better judgment, I leap at him and give him a hug.
 
“Thank you so much, you have no idea what
this means to me.”

               
He
laughs, picking me off the ground and returning the hug.
 
“I am happy that I could do it.
 
Let’s go. I am getting hungry.”

               
“Where
is your bike?” I inquire.

               
“I
really wasn’t going to make you put a helmet back on your head.
 
So, I brought my car.”

               
“I
thought it was in the shop.”

               
Smiling,
Jeremy replies, “It was getting a few kinks worked out.
 
It’s all good now.
 
It’s down the block.
 
Come on.”

               
We
walk and I practically have a skip in my step.
 
Suddenly, we come up to an older car.
 
I look at it.
 
“This is one of
those…what do you call them, muscle cars?”

               
“It
is my baby.
 
It’s a 1967 GTO.
 
You have no idea what that means huh?”

               
“Not
a clue,” I laugh.

               
He
just grins.
 
“Trust me.
 
This thing rocks.
 
Wanted by many men and only owned by a few.”

               
“Well,
it’s pretty,” I say.

               
Giving
me a smirk, he replies, “It’s not pretty, it’s gorgeous, much like you.”

               
“
Awww
, that’s so sweet.”

               
“Come
on, get in.”
 
Jeremy opens the door for
me.
 
I throw the backpack and bag on the
seat and climb in.
 
It’s very
beautiful.
 
Even I can appreciate that.

               
When
Jeremy starts the car, you can feel the rumble of the engine.
 
I laugh.
 
“You can feel the power behind this thing.”

               
“Oh,
you just wait.
 
You have no idea.”
 
With that, he takes off down the street.

               
A
lot of guy’s heads turn as we drive downtown.
 
“So,” I say, “This is rather popular?”

               
“When
they are in this good of condition, yes, they are very wanted.
 
I could put this in a show if I wanted to.”

               
“Why
don’t you?” I ask.

               
Looking
away for a second, Jeremy whispers, “I just don’t.”

               
I
just watch him carefully.
 
For a little
while, he looks lost in his own little world.
 
When we pull up to my house, I see that my mom is still there.
 
“Wait here,” I insist firmly.

               
“I
want to meet your mom,” Jeremy says, getting out of the car.

               
“Jeremy!
 
No!
 
Please, you don’t understand!”

               
He
comes walking over to me and puts his hands on my arms.
 
“It’s alright, Isabelle.
 
Nothing is going to scare me away.
 
I think you need someone to really see what
your life is like.”

               
My
body is fighting back really hard not to cry.
 
“Please Jeremy,” I whisper.
 
“I
don’t know how bad she is today.
 
You
don’t understand.”

               
Suddenly,
I hear, “Isabelle!?”

               
With
my heart dropping into my stomach, I see my mom standing on the porch.
 
“Oh no.”