I stared at the object held gingerly in my hand with a mixture of emotions. Among those emotions were surprise, confusion, doubt, and a smidgen of curiosity. Although I had seen several such instruments before in my life, it was a rare occurrence when I actually came into contact with one.
I turned the object over, observing the sheen of the bronze colored plastic, feeling the shape of the cylindrical container before returning it to its original position, where a label that gave the name of the instrument in clear lettering was visible for me to see.
“…Mascara…?”
Across from me, a very pretty smile on a very pretty girl turned into a very frustrated scowl. It was too bad that all the gunk she had layered tastefully on her face hid all that prettiness.
She brought up her slender fingers to smooth a few locks of lovely black curls behind her ear. She was standing beside my seat, at the intimidating height of 5’4”, and her umber brown eyes looked down at me with an air of disapproval. She had a lovely structure and a great figure, something that was generally known to the rest of the adolescent population in our area. Really though, I thought that the prettiest thing about her was her soft cocoa complexion. I frequently complimented her on it.
“Yes, Elthee, mascara,” she repeated back in a tone of impatience.
I, on the other hand, was being sincere. I carefully pulled the cap away from the capsule, afraid it would pop open too quickly and I’d drop the whole mess on the floor. I held up the thick brush at the end and studied its various bristles.
I was still drawing a blank.
“So…is this the stuff you use to make your eyes look bigger, or the stuff you use to curl your eyelashes?” I asked bemusedly.
This actually made her pause. From the corner of my eye, I could see her eyeing me skeptically, not quite sure whether or not to believe that it was a serious question. I glanced up at her, my own face the image of innocent inquiry.
I guess she decided that I was being serious, because all of a sudden the impatience in the scowl skyrocketed and she gave an exasperated sigh, “It’s neither! You use eyeliner to outline your eyes and an eyelash curler to curl your eyelashes. Mascara is used to enhance your eyelashes, making them appear thicker and longer.”
The proverbial light bulb gave a kick start over my head and my mouth shaped into the telltale “O” of realization as I looked back at the mascara brush with an enthusiastic nod. Then the nod slowly tapered down as the light bulb started flickering weakly.
“But, wait, Bree…” I said slowly, “You use this brush to make your eyelashes longer…?”
Briana blinked and nodded hesitantly, unsure of where I was going with this.
“And you use an eyelash curler to make your eyelashes…curlier?”
Another hesitant nod, “Yes…”
“Well…wouldn’t the mascara ruin the curl since it has to flatten the eyelashes to make them look longer?”
There was an awkward silence as I stared up at her in all my genuine confusion and curiosity, and she stared down at me with a rather blank expression that seemed like it couldn’t decide what to become. Outside the window, a crow cawed and flapped its wings heavily, leaving behind a single charcoal feather as it took to the air.
Quite a few moments passed before Bree apparently decided on what she wanted to express. Indeed, she expressed distress over not being able to decide what to express. It reminded me of something I said once: “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry…”
Bree slowly shook her head, and I couldn’t tell if she was looking at me with bewilderment, resignation, pity, or self pity. It looked like all of those put together.
“You…this…it’s…” she was very tongue tied. I patiently waited for her to gather her thoughts. “…I give up.”
And with that she snatched back her precious plastic capsule, returning the lid to its place with an expert ‘snap,’ before nimbly tossing the container into her stylish make up bag that held various other like objects.
With a prompt spin of her heel and a regretful sigh that seemed to suggest ‘I’m sorry, but there is no more that I can do for you,’ Briana clickity-clacked her trendy heels out of the classroom, leaving me stranded there in the desk, staring after her in complete bafflement.
Was it something I said…?
