21
Early Saturday evening, a few hours before Tyler was due to arrive, I took stock of my appearance in the downstairs bathroom. I’d rested all Thursday and Friday, and now I regretted not tackling my appearance sooner. I hadn’t bothered to put effort into my upkeep for so long that I worried it was beyond me. Damage had been done. Unbuffed skin cells had formed weather-beaten layers on my face. My pigmentation was uneven, my pores inflamed. Rough patches of keratosis pilaris covered my thighs, where I hadn’t bothered to shave or exfoliate. My hair was the thinnest it had ever been. Seeing Tyler again felt fraught. I shuffled to the kitchen, where Andrea was beginning meal prep.
My cousin looked up as I entered and clapped her hands. ‘I’m making some paella and a simple galette for desse
