Makeup Tips & Ghosts of the Past

"Well, what do you think?" I ask, coming out from the loo and doing a little twirl to show off in the living room.

Rose looks up from her book. I think it's a comic. "Did you raid my closet?"

I glance down at the ensemble. "No. Of course not. It's mine!"

"Trying to look young doesn't make you young, Mum."

"Who's trying?" I ask, smoothing my hands down the sides of the white tracksuit top. The pants say juicy on the bum in pink letters. I thought that was funny when I saw them at that shop Rose applied at.

"Oh, Mum, you are so ancient!" Rose complains, kicking her feet up onto the arm of the sofa.

"Shoes off, now, you know that," I say, tapping her shoes to remind her. Rose rolls her eyes and sighs over-dramatic as if I just asked her to watch the Eastenders marathon with me instead of going out with that new boy she is seeing.

"Fine," she says, pushing her shoes off and letting them fall with a loud clump to the floor. "So, what's up with the reliving your youth thing?" she finally asks.

"I have a date!" I say, pleased with the reaction I get. Rose jack knives up, eyes huge.

"Oh, Mum! Let me help you with your makeup!"

"I. . .I think it looks fine," I say, patting my cheeks and, at the same time, wondering if there was such a thing as too much blusher and if I were guilty of that crime of fashion.

"Mum, this is 2005, not 1985," Rose says. "Unless you're going to see Flashdance, you need my help."

I shouldn't accept. There would be no living with her if she does a fine job on fixing up my face. Still, I'm curious on what all that money I spent on her failed attempt at Beauty School would do.

"So, what's the new thing makeup wise?" I ask. "Colors aren't in?"

"Colors are very, very, long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away," Rose says, bouncing over to the loo and motioning me to follow. "C'mere, Mum! You'll thank me later!"

I sit on the toilet, watching as she rummages through her own makeup bag, producing all sorts of things I would have never guessed could fit in such a small space.

"You're not going to make me look tarty, are you?" I ask.

Rose rolls her eyes, scrubbing to get the stuff I already applied off. "No. I'll do you up like me. Do you think I look tarty?"

"No, you usually look rather nice."

"Usually look?"

"Just do it up so I look like I'm not wearing any at all," I say quickly, hoping not to spark a row with that last comment. "That's the thing now, isn't it? Looking natural?"

"Yeah. That's the thing."

Rose works for about twenty minutes. Finally, she proclaims "Done!" and hands me Granny's hand mirror to see. "What do you think?"

"It. . .It looks rather smart," I say, finding nothing wrong with her beauty makeover. "Why didn't you continue on with Beauty School? You've got some talent, Rose."

"Well, I suppose squandering talent is something I inherited from Dad."

She says it to hurt me. I know she does. As if I don't think of Pete every second of every day. "Just because I got one date doesn't mean I've forgotten your dad, Rose," I say.

"What if you got married again?" she asks. "What would Dad think of that?"

"Your dad has been dead for nearly twenty years," I say. "I was so young when we got married and had you. I've done nothing but raise you up since and I don't think your dad would fault me for having a little fun now. Honestly, Rose, it's just a date. I don't plan to marry Walter."

"Walter?" She pulls a face. "What a hideous name."

"He's a good man," I insist. "As was your dad."

There's a knock on the door and Rose jogs over to answer it.

"Mum! It's for you!"

"Remember to lock the door behind you if you go out," I remind her as I collect my purse from the kitchen table, making sure I have my wallet and some fivers in it. "Do you need any money?"

"No, Mum, just go." She flops back onto the couch and turns the telly on with the remote.

"Call me if you need anything."

"Just go, Mum."

I turn to Walter with an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. Shall we?"

Walter holds the door for me and, I can't help it, but I do wonder what Pete would think about all this. Would he really be upset or just laugh it off and say "I know you'll always be faithful, Jacks. Can't help it, huh? Two peas in a pod, we are. Remember how you hated when I called you swee'pea? Two peas in a pod." Why am I still stuck on a man twenty years dead? It doesn't do me a bit of good.

"Walter?" I ask before we're even out of the building. "Do you mind if we cut the date short?"

"How short?" he asks.

"Very short." I try to smile apologetically but it comes out more like a grimace. "I need to go home."

"Um, sure," he says. "Some other time, then?"

"Some other time," I repeat, hitting the 4 button on the lift after he steps off. "Sorry," I say as the doors close and it works its way back up to our floor. Rose looks up when I come back in.

"What happened?"

"I'm suddenly not feeling well," I say, setting down my purse and heading for my room. I kick off my shoes, put on Pete's favorite music, and find my photo albums from under the bed. Why do I always let this happen? Why am I stuck in the past? "It's your fault, you blighter," I whisper to Pete's picture, tracing a finger around his face. "Why'd you make it so hard to forget you?"