Kallan is 10, but she has long been interested in make-up and fashion. I do not wear much make-up, and goodness knows I am not fashionable, but Kallan has persevered without useful role models. She regularly roams the house looking for possible makeover targets.
“Please, Maj?”
Maj doesn’t look up from her book when she says, “No,” but there is something less than her usual hostile adamancy in her single word, and so Kallan redoubles her efforts.
“Please, Maj? Pretty please? I won’t do anything you don’t approve.”
Maj puts a placeholding finger in her book and considers, “Nothing on my eyes . . . my eyes are too sensitive.”
“How about just eye shadow, but no liner or mascara?”
“How about nothing on my eyes?”
“Fine. You’ll look all off-balance, but fine.”
I watch as Maj considers. She is 12 and not at all into make-up, but she has watched with growing annoyance as her friends have started wearing it. Probably better if she figures out the basics of this new language before her friends point out her illiteracy. Better to admit her ignorance to her sister than her peers. Maj tilts her head thoughtfully, “How about you do everything except my eyes and then I will think about it? Maybe you can do my eyes. Maybe.”
“Yay! Come on, Maj!”
They run upstairs and into the bathroom, the room where the magic happens.
I head down into the basement to chat with Mark, and before too long, the girls come racing down the stairs. Kallan swings around the corner and into the room first, filled with drama, “Presenting . . . the new and improved Maj!”
Maj walks into the room cautiously, as though expecting a wave of mocking to crash over her. She looks . . . beautiful. Her hair has been swept up into a loose chignon, stray tendrils framing her heart-shaped face. She isn’t wearing much make-up; a bit of blush and some sparkly lip gloss. Perhaps some lip-liner?
Kallan smiles, “Doesn’t she look beautiful?”
I smile back, “Maj is always beautiful, but yes . . . she is breathtakingly beautiful.”
Both Maj and Kallan glow at the compliment. Maj turns to Kallan, “OK, maybe you can do my eyes. Just so I can see what that would look like.”
Kallan hops up and down happily, “Thank you, Maj! You’ll love it . . . come on!”
They run off together.
Mark and I chat for a bit longer, and then I hear strange sounds coming from above. I cock my head and try to identify the tone of the noises, “Babe, do you hear that? Is that happy noise or angry noise?”
“If it was angry noise, one of them would be stomping down the stairs to report on the other. Must be happy.”
There follows a series of odd thumping noises. I look at Mark, “That sounds bad, right?” He sighs. I head up to check. I walk up out of the basement to the main floor of the house and listen for a moment. There is more thumping and some muffled grunts, and so I walk to the bottom of the main stairs and yell up at the closed bathroom door, “You ladies OK up there?”
Definitely the sounds of a struggle.
“Ladies?”
There is more grunting and the sounds of bodies pressing for dominance.
I start up the stairs, “Somebody better answer me.”
Maj’s voice erupts, as though she has just this second managed to remove a gag, “HELP ME! HELP! I AM BEING HELD CAPTIVE! I AM A CAPTIVE, I SAY!”
Kallan’s voice is scornful from behind the door, “A captive of beauty, Maj? Really?”
“MOTHER, WHAT’S THAT CALLED WHEN YOU TURN THINGS TO GOLD?”
I think for a minute, “Alchemy, Maj?”
“I AM A CAPTIVE OF ALCHEMY! KALLAN IS GOLDING ME AND I AM RESISTING HER BUT SHE IS LIKE A SISTER-DEMON OF ALCHEMY! I DON’T WANT TO BE PRECIOUS!”
Kallan snorts, and I hear weight being shifted against the far side of the door as she speaks, “Like I have the power to make you precious. Not even. You’re not leaving this room until you apologize.”
“HELP! HELP! I AM TRAPPED AND IN FEAR FOR MY LIFE! MOTHER, SAVE ME!”
“An apology never killed anyone, Maj. Say you’re sorry before I kill you.”
“MOTHER, SHE IS THREATENING ME! I AM A CAPTIVE OF ALCHEMY AND EVIL! SAVE ME! SAVE ME RIGHT THIS INSTANT,” and then in a smaller voice, “Kallan, you dropped a make-up sponge.”
“Thank you, Maj.”
“SAVE ME! I AM BEAUTY-DOOMED!”
“Apologize for smashing my lipstick.”
“HOW WAS I TO KNOW I NEEDED TO TURN IT TO MAKE IT GO BACK DOWN BEFORE I PUT THE CAP ON? NO WAY FOR ME TO KNOW THAT, YOUNG LADY.”
“Really, Maj? How many times have you ruined your tubes of chapstick?”
There is silence for a moment, “What? You have to lower the chapstick before you put on the top . . . duh. Oh wait . . . they work the same way, don’t they? ARE YOU SUGGESTING THERE WAS HOSTILE INTENT BY THE MAJ?”
“Apologize or face a golden death, Maj.”
“YOUNG LADY, IF YOU PEE ON ME, I WILL DESTROY YOU.”
Kallan giggles, “Not that kind of golden, Maj. You are so weird. The alchemy thing, remember?”
Maj pauses and then pounds on the door, “MOTHER, SAVE ME FROM A GOLDEN DEATH! HELP! HELP! HELP!”
I take the doorknob in my hand, turn, and then push hard against my younger daughter’s resistance, “Kallan, open this door and set Maj free. We’ll talk out here.”
And then there is Maj, gorgeous and enraged. Her hair is still pinned up, although a bit more disheveled; her lips are sparkly and glossy; her cheeks are still rosy, although whether that’s blush or capillaried venom, it’s hard to say. Her eyes are now made-up as well, and Kallan has done an amazing job with shadow, liner, and mascara. Seriously . . . Maj looks spectacular.
She is hopping up and down like Rumplestiltskin, “I said she could do my eyes, but she had to promise to let me do her make-up as well. She lied she lied she lied she is a traitor she is evil SHE MUST BE TAUGHT A LESSON, MOTHER.”
Kallan steps from the bathroom, her face a swirl of reds and blacks and purples. The words spill from my lips before I can stop them, “What the hell happened to you?”
Kallan sighs, “I know, right? I look all insane clowny.”
“You so do. Why did you do that?”
“I didn’t do this . . . Maj did. I said she could give me a makeover, and this is what she did.”
“IN MY DEFENSE, SHE WAS DUCKING AND WEAVING! I HAD TO STAB HER WITH THE MAKEOVER!”
I stare at Maj, “Really, Maj?”
Maj sinks gorgeously into a chair and sulks, “This is not my fault. IT WOULD HAVE BEEN SUBTLE IF SHE HAD NOT TRIED TO ELUDE ME. IT’S NOT MY FAULT SHE LOOKS LIKE A CLOWN. STABBING DOES NOT EQUAL SUBTLE, MOTHER.”
Kallan and I both stare at Maj, and she glares at us, “What?”
Kallan sighs and pulls out the container of cold cream and starts to wipe the garish mess from her face. Maj huffs, “Fine, I’m taking my makeup off too, then.” She grabs a big scoop of cold cream and slathers her face and then . . .
“I AM BLIND! I AM BLIND! I AM BLIND! MY EYES ARE SEARING WITH PAIN AND I AM DYING!”
Kallan giggles helplessly as I help Maj wipe the white goo from her eyes and offer reassurances, “You’re not dying.”
“I THINK I WOULD KNOW ABOUT THE EYEBALLED DEATH BETTER THAN YOU SINCE THEY ARE IN FACT MY DYING EYBALLS! I AM DYING! MY EYEBALLS ARE DYING! DEATH IS EVERYWHERE!”
I swipe at Maj’s closed eyes again, “Better?”
She opens them cautiously, “I AM BLURRED! I HAVE BEEN BLURRED! EVERYTHING IS BLURRY! I . . . AM . . . BLURRED.”
Kallan snorts, “I don’t know what you can see, but from where I stand? You are crazy clear. Crystal crazy clear.”
“THERE IS A FILM OVER MY EYES! THERE IS A FILM IN MY EYES! SHE FILMED ME! SHE ACID-FILMED ME AND I WILL NEVER SEE AGAIN AND I WILL NEED A SEEING-EYE DOG AND WE WILL NEED TO GET A NEW DOG BECAUSE OUR DOGS ARE USELESS AND KALLAN HAS ACID-FILMED ME!”
I hand Maj a wet washcloth and she wipes at her eyes a few more times and then blinks, “OK, that’s much better.”
Kallan sighs, “Maj, you are such a loon.”
Maj pulls her eyelids up and leans forward to check her eyes in the mirror, “No more eye-liner for me . . . not ever. I COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED.”
Kallan turns to me, “Hey, Mom? Can I give you a makeover?”
Uh oh.
