Page 128 of Last Letters to Ara
“I love you, Ara.” William’s voice cracks ever so slightly. “I’ll miss you so,somuch.”
Pause. “You sure you’re fine?”
“I can’t tell my daughter that I love her without there being something wrong?”
She’s quiet again. Then, “I love you, too, Dad.”
I hear the door shut and my heart cracks for the girl who is about to lose her entire world.
Present – Ara
LOU LETS OUTa low whistle, slowly shaking her head. “If I wasn’t already lesbian, I sure as hell would be now.”
I grin. “That good, huh?”
“Good is an insult to what I’m looking at.” She props her hands on her hips and looks me over, all business. “You’re fucking surreal.”
I can feel a blush rising, and I want to make it to a mirror before my redness ruins everything. Standing up from my spot at the makeup station that we fashioned in my living room, I make my way over to the full-length mirror on the far wall.
Lou insisted that she come over to do my makeup after I told her about tonight’s charity ball, and that I would be wearingTHEdress. She said that I could go bare faced and rock everyone’s world, but why not add a little frosting and knock themdead. Turns out, she wasn’t asking permission.
I take a deep breath and look at my reflection. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. I thought makeup was used to cover up, to transform yourself into someone new, someone better. More perfect, even.
Lou hasn’t covered anything up. She has taken my features and applied the makeup in such a way that they are their best selves. The eyeshadow is bright and glowy, coordinating perfectly with my dress, and simultaneously making my eyes pop.
Nothing is too thick or cakey. My skin is still my skin, but she’s dusted and highlighted my face in a way that I’m seeing myself in a new way. I notice my strong bone structure for the first time, my full lips. I even take a moment to appreciate my eyebrows, which she’s only enhanced.
More special to me than anything, Lou didn’t see my freckles as blemishes to conceal. The way she’s dusted over them puts them right on display, the main event, as if they are something to be treasured.
I feel...beautiful.
I feel like...me.
I don’t let myself think too hard about the other glow about me, coming from the inside. After three months with Theo, it’s becoming harder and harder not to acknowledge what I feel for him.
“Lou, this is incredible.” I’m breathless. “How did you ever learn to do this?”
“My mom forced me into every ‘Little Miss Southern’ beauty pageant until I was sixteen. The tips and tricks have been permanently etched into my brain.” Lou shrugs. “I just make sure you can still see the person underneath.”
“You could do this for a living, you know?” I look in the mirror again, taking in my reflection one more time, as if it might disappear.
Lou scoffs. “I would rather stab myself in the eyes with toothpicks soaked in lemon juice than have to play nice with bridezillas and prom queens.”
I laugh. “That’s fair enough.”
Lou has given me something special tonight. It’s not just a friend doing another friend’s makeup, she’s reminded me that I’m beautiful.
Lou leaves me to get dressed while she packs up her weapons, the curling wand and makeup, I should say. I walk to the rack which currently holds the dress I will wear tonight. Theo’s name that he gave it is fitting. My silver starlight dress is something out of a fairytale. I’m my worst critic, but even I can admit that it’s the most beautiful dress I’ve laid my eyes on.
Mydress.
I know it’s a masterpiece. I’ve only seen such things in my imagination, ignited from the books I read of faraway places. Places of magic. Places of royalty. Every inch of the dress sparkling, even under dim lighting. My favorite part of this dress is the fact that it was indeed made just for me. That way the length is just long enough not to trip, not to have to carry the layers of the skirt, but long enough that no one can see the black-and-white Converse which I’m wearing underneath.
I slide off my robe and lift my piece of art that I neverdreamedof actually getting to wear one day. As I slip into it for the first time, I feel myself transport into that magical universe where I can be anybody I want.
I don’t have to be the Ara, who once warred with anxiety and loss more than she lived. I can be Ara, the designer. Someone who is proud of their work and brave enough to let the world see.
I take one final look in the mirror. Since I wear my hair up most days in a messy bun, Lou thought doing a formal updo wouldn’t “knock Theo’s dick around in his pants” enough. She wanted it to be spectacular.
