Lipstick Apology Read Online Free PDF

measure that hung around her neck and ushered me into a fancy dressing room decked out with velvet chairs and a large framed mirror. Jolie went off to browse.
    Emily Too closed the door and turned to me. “So, what did you have in mind, honey?” After a moment of awkward silence, she asked, “Were you looking to . . . enhance?”
    I tugged at the front of my red T-shirt, unable to meet her eyes. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. “Um, sure,” I said, panicking, knowing once she put that tape measure to work, she’d see there wasn’t much to work with, let alone enhance.
    She gently lifted my arms and expertly wrapped the tape measure around my rib cage, then chest.
    â€œNot much calculation required, ha ha,” I said nervously.
    The lady winked at me kindly and clicked her tongue. “Be right back, hon.”
    Moments later she returned with an armload of bras. She arranged them neatly on a rack and said, “Take your time, dear. Call me if you need help.”
    I selected a bra and against all odds, it did, somehow, defy nature and give me just a smidge of cleavage. I glanced down at the price tag. Not possible. The price of sandblasting your kneecaps was nothing compared to the amazing price of cleavage.
    I sat down on the plush velvet armchair, staring at myself in the mirror. Everything was artificial, like I had literally put on someone else’s life. But as I sat there wearing nothing but a butter-soft, overpriced yellow bra, the realization dawned on me. This was my life now.
    There was a knock on my dressing room door. “Em?” Jolie’s anxious voice asked from the hall. “Do you need help? Am I supposed to come in?” She tried the locked doorknob without success. Two seconds later, Jolie squatted down and crawled under the mahogany door.
    I grabbed my shirt and covered my chest. “Jolie! What are you doing?” I shrieked.
    â€œI don’t know!” She put her hands up to her face. “I DON’T KNOW! Do I come in and help you with the bras? Do I give you some privacy? I have no freaking clue!” She started running her fingers through her beautiful hair with a manic gesture.
    I didn’t know what to say, so I sat back down on the oversized chair.
    Jolie took out her cell phone and pointed to it. “I just hit my speed dial to ask Jill what to do, then it hits me—SHE’S NOT HERE! I feel like someone just amputated my right arm. Then I think about you, and how she’s your mother. Your mother . And your father —gone.” She climbed up into the velvet chair next to me and I awkwardly put my arm around her.
    â€œIt’ll be okay.” I patted her head as she wept softly and wondered why the world felt fuzzy.
    An arm reached under the door and extended a box of Kleenex without a word. Jolie reached over and took it.
    I’m not sure how long we stayed in that fitting room, but when we finally emerged and made our way to the front desk, the sun was setting, casting long shadows through the front glass windows.
    Jolie extended the yellow bra. “We’ll take this one.” She dabbed at her nose with a crumpled tissue. “Um, you know what? Just give us seven more of the same style in a variety of colors. With matching underwear.”
    After paying, Jolie hailed a cab and we hopped in, each of us staring out the greasy window into the now-darkening sky.

    SUNDAY NIGHT I stared at myself in the mirror. The transformation was amazing. A little concealer under the eyes, Jolie’s favorite berry stain on my cheeks, golden highlights around my face, compliments of Trent, and a tiny bit of cleavage. I looked like a new version of myself. A happier, prettier, more confident version. Maybe I no longer had to be the orphaned girl that everyone pitied, the zombie girl whose face was splashed across the covers of People and the regional papers because her mother left her a mysterious apology.