Page 102 of The Me I Left Behind

“Hot. I stayed up too late last night.”

Maggie eyed him while pulling the blender closer. It wasn’t like him to actually confess something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. “Why?”

He hesitated. “Playing video games with a friend.”

She stayed silent for a moment and went about her task. She pulled down the cocoa and protein powder from the cabinet, then measured and added them to the blender. “Well, tonight, to bed early. Okay?”

“Yeah.”

She added some sugar and hot coffee, whirred the contents for about thirty seconds, and asked Jason again. “You sure you don’t want this over ice? I could make a frappe.”

“Hot, please.”

Carol skipped into the room. “Oh, that looks good. Could I have one? But cold, please.”

“Of course.” She eyed Carol. “No makeup? You feel okay?”

Her daughter straddled a bar stool and leaned into the island. “I’m fine. It’s just a half-day today because we have graduation practice in the afternoon. God, I can’t believe graduation is only a week away. I dressed down today. Besides, Logan says I’m prettier without makeup.”

Those were words she’d never expected coming out of her daughter’s mouth. Maggie tossed a quick glance at Julia, who caught her eye, and then back to Carol. “I think you are beautiful either way. It’s just that I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not wear makeup to school.”

Carol shrugged. “Logan says he thinks makeup makes a girl look trampy.”

Logan says, Logan says… What the fuck?

1992

She chose the red tube.

It was the least expensive one. She only had so much money. Mary Margaret figured if she liked it, if her eyelashes looked good with mascara, she could save up more money for the ultra-pink tube later on.

The lighting was better in the bathroom than in her room, so she lingered extra-long in there, until she got the hang of how to apply the dark tint to her lashes. She had a magnifying mirror, too. A hand-held one that she used to see up close and then looked into the big mirror to see the overall effect.

She liked it. Except for the smudges underneath her eyes. Avoiding the smudges was the hardest part, but a cotton swab helped.

Her thin, short lashes actually looked longer. Would the kids at school notice? Would anyone say anything to her? Or would she just look…prettier?

“The bus!” Her mom yelled from the kitchen.

Mary Margaret rushed out of the bathroom, stashed the red tube in her underwear drawer, grabbed her backpack, and sprinted toward the front door. At the mirror in the entryway, she stopped, looking once more at her eyes.

She smiled again. Perfect.

Jack pushed past her, gave her a thumbs up, and headed for the road.

Her mother rounded the corner, took one look at her, and gasped. “What the goddamn hell did you do to your eyes? Good God, Mary Margaret, you look like a slut.”

The shock of her mother’s words rippled over her.Slut?She wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. “It’s just mascara, Mom.”

“Did your dad say?”

“Yes. I asked him.”

“Well, you didn’t ask me if you could wear it to school. That looks awful.”

Jack yelled from the driveway. “Come on, Mary Margaret!”

“Go wash it off.”