Mum and Tate were arguing in the bathroom. This always happens before a performance. Tate is on edge, mum is trying her best to remain calm, but the two of them together are like a fire stick being rubbed.
'I don't want blush,' I heard Tate say. 'I never want blush.'
'Just a little bit,' mum said in her softest, most persuasive voice. 'You'll hardly even see it.'
'Then why have it?' Tate's voice was going up an octave.
'Jacinta said stage makeup. This is very subtle stage makeup. I'm not going overboard here.'
They were quiet for a moment. I guessed that mum was applying the blush to his cheeks.
'Not too much hairspray,' Tate said.
'Close your eyes.'
I looked at my watch. 5.40pm. Will they ever leave? I wanted to have a shower. I rummaged through my underwear drawer. All my underwear was disgusting. I had three black cotton sports bras. I found a white underwire bra, but again it was cotton and unflattering, practical rather than sensual, a $15 special from Target. It was the best I had though. My underpants were either organic black cotton or organic off-white cotton. Where's the lace, the satin, the silk? This is what happens when my mother shops for my underwear.
'Just a little bit of lipstick,' mum suggested.
'No.'
'I'll blot it out afterwards. It'll help your lips look redder on stage. It will just be a stain after I blot it out. No one will be able to tell you have lipstick on.'
'No.'
Jesus.
Finally they left.
YOU ARE READING
A Reason to Exist
Teen FictionSometimes falling in love is the most dangerous trick to land ... Macy always follows the rules. For years, her mother has warned her that the world is full of toxins and accidents waiting to happen. Tucker lives next door. He doesn't follow any rul...
