and the door buzzes. Heading in, I climb three flights of stairs. The hallways are narrow and painted in a depressing shade of gray, but the carpet looks fresh. Rounding the corner, I spot her door on the left. Pausing a moment, I rap lightly.
The door swings open almost immediately, and a barefaced woman in her mid-forties stands before me, dressed in a cherry blossom-covered robe. She pats at her face and smooths her dark blonde hair behind her ear.
“You’re early,” she says, a bit of a chuckle in her tone.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, no, you’re fine. Come on in. I’ve got a spot at the table for us.” She holds the door open and motions toward the kitchen table. “It’s right by the window. I thought you might want natural light.”
“It’s perfect.”
“I’m Helena,” she says. Her hand slides down the lapel of her robe, and the more I study her face, the more it seems to make her nervous.
In my mind, I’m mentally choosing colors and deciphering how best to accentuate her beautiful green eyes and high cheekbones.
“Can you do anything about this?” She laughs nervously and points to her nose. It’s large with a bump down the middle and definitely not something easily hidden. It anchors her entire face, though she’s still a very attractive woman.
I smile and nod. As a woman, I know first-hand how we all have our hangups. Some of us tend to fixate on things we wish we could fix, things that make us feel less-than. Some of us forever obsess over things men in our lives have deemed as flaws.
“Helena, can I just say that I think you’re absolutely stunning.” I mean it. One hundred percent. I hope, twenty years from now, to look half as beautiful as she does.
Her expression softens and her brows lift. Helena’s shoulders relax ever so slightly and she sinks down in her kitchen chair. When her eyes lock into mine, her cheeks turn a light shade of pink.
“You’re so sweet,” she says. “But I still want you to focus on this monstrosity.”
She points at her nose once more, and I move her hand away.
“I’m going to focus on those beautiful emerald eyes of yours,” I say with a smile. “And those to-die-for cheekbones. And your skin. It’s flawless. I don’t see a single wrinkle anywhere.”
Helena smiles, her eyes glassing over. “Nobody’s ever said those things to me.”
I frown, hoisting my makeup case on her table and grabbing colors. “I find that extremely hard to believe.”
“My ex,” she says, “Harold, he always used to tell me I should get a nose job. But I’m terrified of surgery. I don’t like going under. And I’m afraid I’m going to be one of those women, you know, those plastic-looking ones you see in L.A.? They think they look great but really they look like freaks.”
“You made the right choice, Helena. For sure.”
“He was always pointing it out,” she says, “saying it needed its own zip code.”
I make a disgusting noise in the back of my throat. “That’s terrible. Did you put him in his place? Please tell me you did.”
“Sure did,” she says, sitting up tall. “I divorced his sorry ass.”
I hold my palm up, suggesting a high-five, and she meets it with a hard smack.
“But now, here I am.” She sighs, staring straight ahead into her kitchen. Her apartment is modest, and I’m guessing it’s a one-bedroom. There’s not a lot of color or any photos or personalized decorations that suggest this is more than a furnished, temporary rental. “Trying to get back out there again.”
“Have you been dating much?” I color-match her skin tone to one of my sheer foundations and squirt a blob on the back of my hand. She doesn’t need much, just a few places to even out her complexion.
“Oh, honey, no,” she says. “I hear it’s rough out there. Not for the faint of heart.”
“You heard correct.” I roll my eyes. “I’ve taken a bit of a hiatus from dating this last year. Focusing on my business instead.”
“Good for you.” I feel her watching me, studying, and her lips quiver like she wants to say something but isn’t sure if she should. “Can I just say something?”
“Of course.” I grab a pot of cream blush in a shade of dusty rose and snap it open.
“I never had a daughter,” she says. “Or any kids for that matter. So I feel compelled to pass along a few words of wisdom, if I may.”
“By all means.” I pat