I thought I deserved it. After keeping my hands and feet off other people’s business, I wanted them to get some pampering. As I sat with my feet soaked in warm soapy water, I spotted a pair of eyes looking at me in the mirror. I turned in the direction and smiled.She did not move her lips. She stared. There was an emotion or lack of it that I cannot describe. Her daughter was also there and chatted with me, but the mother, her hair plastered with colour, refused to acknowledge me. I can understand strangers not acknowledging but there was, as I slowly discovered, a certain resentment.
Why would a stranger resent one? I had not taken away anything – she had her appointment, her work being done. It was disturbing.
When I was through, in a mood of defiance I declared, “Today I will not use white or silver, get me a dark shade.”
The pedicurist brought orange. I cringed. The young woman said it would look great, I should try it. One finger. Striking. Marvellous. The older woman gave me even more dirty looks.
“Nah, too loud for me.”
ent though the browns, the maroons and finally settled for a dark pink. Waiting for it to dry, I watched her, again and again. Looking for clues to her, and even to myself. Perhaps she saw something that made her react? A reminder?
Today as I look at my nail varnish I see her eyes in them. I rub them against a hard surface and it is already chipping away. Little pink specks like dried flower petals dot the table.
I blow them away like autumn wind would.
2 comments:
Would you have been as mystified if it had been love, not resentment, at first sight?
Not mystified, but disturbed. Unless it was one of those 'things'.
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