Claire looked at Allison, now the heavy mascara had been removed.
"You know, you look a lot better without all that black shit under your eyes."
"Hey, I like all that black shit!" Allison replied.
She paused, and looked straight into the eyes of the girl opposite.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked.
Claire thought for a moment. Why was she doing this? How much of it was for her reasons, and how much for Allison? The easy answer was that this is what she does. Every morning. Waking up and painting the blank canvas, finally showing the finished article to the world.
She'd never dreamed of going out without the mask on – or rather she had dreamed about it. She'd woken in a cold sweat that night, relieved to discover that her nightmare had been just that.
It dawned on her that the mask she was helping Allison to remove was in many ways exactly the same mask that she put on every morning. She realised that, far from being from different worlds as she had believed at 7am that morning, Allison was from the very same place she was. Her view of it may be different, a little darker maybe (although all that black shit might be the cause of that) but it's the same place.
The answer to her question – the true answer – came easy enough.
"Because you're letting me."
Claire carefully replaced the heavy black eyeliner with shades more suited to her own tastes.
"So why all the black shit? How come you never wanted…" she asked.
""More 'normal' colours?" Allison responded, with a wry chuckle. "Don't forget what I said before. My folks are… they're OK, I guess. They're certainly better than John's family. But it's true that they ignore me. They have done for years. So I act and dress in ways to make that harder for them, to provoke a reaction – even if it's disgust."
"And does it work?" Claire asked.
Allison shrugged.
"It used to. I'm not so sure that I could do anything now that they haven't seen, and dismissed, a hundred times over. I just want them to be there for me, and not just be there for themselves."
Claire couldn't imagine what it was like for the girl, whose home life was so different from her own. She was so used to being the centre of attention, getting everything she wanted….
Suddenly, out of nowhere, came a recollection of a birthday years ago. There were decorations, and gifts, and cake, and friends, and everyone circling around her. She must have been around five or six years old. And in the middle of the room was the largest, most amazing dolls house she'd ever seen. A gift from her father, and she'd turned to hug him and thank him…. Only he hadn't been there. Another business trip had kept him away from home on her birthday. He'd tried to make up for it with money, but what she'd really wanted was him.
Allison saw the tears well in Claire's eyes, and somehow knew that, for all her privilege and wealth, there was still a hole in her life that the money, clothes and vacations couldn't fill.
She rested her hand on Claire's arm, and smiled at her new friend. She could feel the pricking of tears in her own eyes, and slowly, the two girls embraced, giving each other the comfort, support, and attention each so desperately needed.
After a minute or two, they looked at each other, eyes puffy and red, cheeks a little blotchy. Finally Claire broke the silence.
"I really wish I'd packed some waterproof make-up this morning!" she laughed.
"Come on – let's get that pink shit off your eyes and start again, shall we?"