Conflicted

Makeup and Mirrors

All day I have admired myself in the mirror. Not in a self-absorbed way, no, quite the opposite. I am simply amazed by how effectively Jess was able to cover all signs of bruising, patches of uneven skin tone, the deep bags under my eyes and even the cut on my lip. She made me look like myself again. I am so grateful, but at the same time it feels so surreal. I keep thinking the next time I look at myself or touch my face, all her effort will have disappeared and my injuries will be once more on display.

Mom and I ran some errands after Jess finished working her magic on me. She even sent me home with small sample bottles of the makeup she used so that I could continue to cover up my face in the meantime while I heal. I'm not convinced I'll be able to replicate anything close to her masterpiece, but I am thankful nonetheless. After two hours of Jess bringing me back to life, mom and I left to get groceries and some other odds and ends. She said nothing when I got out of the car with her at each stop, but I could tell she was proud of me. My confidence had been renewed and I was safe from the gawking stares. The potential risk of someone I know seeing my face and spreading gossip has been erased. When we pulled back into the garage at hope, I reached my hand out to momentarily stop my mom from exiting the SUV.

"I really appreciate you calling your coworker and her daughter. Jess is really nice and we got along well. What you did for me means a lot. I know this has been hard on you too, but I thank you, Mom. I love you a lot, I hope you know that," tears began to well in both our eyes.

"Don't make me cry! Don't ruin your makeup either, you look like a whole snack!" Mom cries out, caught between crying of happiness at my display of love and laughing hysterically over calling me a "whole snack".

We got out of the car, both laughing.

"Where did you even learn that?" I wheeze out, blinking back the tears in my eyes.

Mom wipes her cheeks, her laughter settles. "I'm not that old, you know! I see the memes online, I pick up on the lingo of the youth!"

I shake my head, still smiling. "The fact that you referred to us as 'the youth' makes you old," I giggle.

Together we haul all of the shopping bags into the house. I set all the grocery items down in the kitchen island and help her unpack.

"I have to start cooking. Less than three hours before Kate gets here. I want to clean up, change my clothes and look nice..." Mom declares. She looks over at me.

"Why are you still here? Go get ready!" She practically body checks me out of the kitchen and I fumble towards the stairs. God, she is wild when she has her mind set on something.

I smile to myself, Mom is putting a lot of energy into this dinner. She bought way more food than the three of us could ever eat, candles for the main area of the house to make it smell nice, got me a full face session from a professional makeup artist and now she's making sure we both dress nicely.

I guess Kate really made a good impression on her yesterday. I dress in the clothes I had impulsively planned to wear at Jess' house. I use my flat iron to create some loose flowing waves at the ends of my long hair. After putting the jewelry on, I step over towards my full length mirror and look back at my reflection.

I hardly recognize myself.

This is the best I've ever looked. Even before Preston's attack, I could never do makeup this well and I rarely gave myself a reason to dress up. I realize then that I look much older than nineteen. I look like a young woman... an attractive one at that. My whole life, everyone has always told me how beautiful I am. As a child I was "angelic", as a young teen people called me a "natural beauty" and even today while I stood in a stranger's home covered in cuts and bruises, both Jess and her mom were calling me gorgeous. Despite the endless praise, I never feel beautiful. I always assume people say these things to be nice or to make me like them. In fact, all the attention I got for my supposed "good looks" made me feel that much more insecure and self-conscious.

Until this very moment, I never understood what people saw in me or why they were so adamant that I was a "natural beauty". For the first time in my whole life, I actually feel confident with my appearance... I feel powerful and sexy. I am vibrating with happiness as I descend the stairs to help mom finish up with dinner.

I can't wait to see Kate.