Vindhya shrugs and takes a slouching step in that direction.
“Wait!” I say. She freezes, turning her head slowly like she may have stepped on a land mine. I put my hands on both her shoulders. “You need to walk like a queen. Head back, chin up, pretend you’re squeezing a pencil between your shoulder blades.”
She pulls her shoulder blades together with a grimace. “This is not comfortable.”
“Yeah. From now on, if you’re comfortable, you’re probably doing something wrong.” I give her a little prod to start walking.
Pulling her shoulders back even harder, she moves forward, each step meticulous, her face set in determination. Eventually she’s going to need to learn to look relaxed while she holds this pose, but we’ve got a little time.
Tuan, who has watched the whole scene dispassionately, welcomes me to his station with a double handclasp and a “Hey, girl, hey.”
“Tuan, this is Vindhya. She’s here for a shape and trim.”
Tuan waves her into the chair and begins finger combing her long, messy curls. “What are we thinking today?”
Vindhya says matter-of-factly, “Can you just basically make me completely different?”
Behind her back, Tuan and I exchange a silent: Seriously? But he’s a killer stylist and I’m a fairy godmother, so, I mean, yeah. We can.
He signals Phong over, and they have a conversation with Vindhya that feels uncomfortably like she’s buying a phone or something—Do you want to spring for extra storage? Better camera? Rose-gold shell? Hair extensions? Highlights? French tips? In the end she decides to have them cut her hair, wax her eyebrows, manicure her nails, and do a deep pore cleanse.
While Phong and Tuan get to work, I cook up the meet-cute.
* * *
“Vindhya. Focus. You with me?”
She’s watching Tuan’s scissors while Phong files away at the nails on her right hand.
I wave my hand between her and the mirror to get her attention. “You’ve got to be early for physics tomorrow. Sean has that teacher the hour before you do, so you can run into him on his way out.”
“What do I say to him?”
“Nothing. You literally crash into him. Knock his ass over if you can. He’ll take it from there. But the whole thing hinges on you getting there right when the bell rings.”
“That’s impossible. I have to go all the way from the foreign language hall—”
“Leave early. Tell her you started your period.”
“Him. And I’m not saying that.” She grimaces. Tuan gets out the hair dryer and the round brush.
“WHATEVER IT TAKES!” I yell over the roar of the hair dryer. Normally I would be more cautious, but there’s no one else in the shop and, seriously, who are Phong and Tuan going to tell? “JUST GET THERE.”
Vindhya nods, newly sculpted eyebrows still pinched together. It’s too much trouble to keep yelling, so we lapse into silence until Tuan finishes the blowout and pronounces, “Now you are a woman.”
Vindhya’s black waves cascade past her shoulders, framing her face. Her skin is so detoxed it looks polished. Every remaining eyebrow hair is perfectly tamed. But her eyes are the main event—large and dark, made dramatic by her naturally thick lashes, and open extra wide as she takes herself in. I move to prep the Transformation Tears Protocol (to-go pack of tissues, a piece of dark chocolate, and a speech about inner beauty). But then her lips part into a smile, revealing straight white teeth.
I smile back at her reflection in the mirror, even though the prickling on my forehead has turned into a full-on tap dance.
4 Just One Sucker Punch After Another
My sister and I have dinner together every Thursday night. Well, I’m eating dinner. She’s eating breakfast. And we aren’t really together. I have the tablet propped up next to me so we can vidchat while we eat. But it’s better than nothing—at least until she finishes her internship and comes home in a couple months. We usually spend half the call talking about our current events, then the other half making plans. We’re going to backpack around South America over Christmas break. And we’re going to room together while she works at a pet clinic and I take classes at Cal State next year.
I love Thursday nights.
It’s pouring rain in Thailand, and Hope’s windows don’t have any glass. She’s eating granola and yogurt out of a Hello Kitty teacup. I’m eating take-out pad Thai, which Hope declares to be totally Americanized, but it still makes me feel a little closer to her.
I just finished telling her about Vindhya.
She says, “I still don’t know why you do it. Like, what’s in it for you?”
I tell her for the millionth time, “It brings me joy to see people’s wishes come true. I’m putting positive things into the Universe.”
“Whatever.” Hope’s eye roll looks choppy over our long-distance connection. “Mom working late?”
“Of course.” I twirl a forkful of noodles in the peanut sauce.
“How’s Memom?”
“She’s awesome. Planning a wedding for one of the ladies at her retirement complex.”
Hope laughs.
“Guess what?” I ask with my mouth full.
“What?”
“I figured out that I can create my own Personal Image Consulting major at Cal State by combining fashion, sociology, and marketing classes. How perfect is that?”
“Cool.” She sounds less interested than I’d hoped she’d be.
I venture, “How’s Hope World?”
“Good.” There’s something heavy in that word. And in the way she looks out her window at the rain.
“Hope? What’s up?” I prod.
Eight thousand miles away, she turns to face me again. “Chay, I decided to stay here. I’m not coming back.”
“Oh.”
For a moment that feels stretched into slow motion, I see myself, looking stunned, in the little selfie-feed in the corner of the screen. I can’t swallow my noodles.
Hope rushes on like she’s been rehearsing. “They’ve offered me a two-year contract. My school’s going to count it for my last few credits so I can graduate in absentia. And Bernice needs me. She really does. And… I met someone.”
“Oh?” It’s my new go-to syllable. Barely holding it together.
“Yeah.” She bites her lip. “He’s… I don’t know if it’ll be anything, but it’s worth sticking around to find out, you know?”
“Yeah. Um. Yeah.” I open my eyes wide and lift my eyebrows, checking the selfie to make sure I look excited for her. “That’s great.”
“Aw, I miss you, sis.” She pretends to hug me through the tablet, but it’s just pixels. Not real. “And we’ll still have breakfast-dinner, okay? And maybe you can come visit on spring break. You’d love it here!”
I pull it together to tell her I love her back and that it would be awesome to visit. Then I end the call. I stare at the home screen for a while. It’s a picture of Hope and me with our arms around each other at the airport. The picture blurs in front of me as the truth settles in: my sister threw me over for an elephant and a guy she barely knows.