One of the first things I did when I came home from my trip with Mr. Bee was to go into Earnie’s bathroom. I sat down at her vanity. Her room is exactly the way she left it that Wednesday she became ill. It’s like a ghost town. I feel like there should be a velvet rope to prevent the general public from intruding into her space.
An empty coke can, a bottle of Miralax (you know the funny story about Miralax and ear wax), her makeup. I suddenly became very overwhelmed by all of her things. Thinking about how sweet it was that she sat down each day at that vanity and put on makeup. How getting older, she thought, had betrayed her beauty. But, she was wrong. She was still beautiful. She had the prettiest skin. I touched each of the small, sample jars of creams she had in the drawer. Opening each one, imagining her using them. I opened a tube of eyelash product that was supposed to make your lashes longer and fuller. Reeves women didn’t inherit long eyelashes. Long, slender fingers yes, but alas not eyelashes. I picked up her comb that she used to lift the back of her hair up. Then, I opened all her lipsticks. I marveled at the bright colors she picked. She boldly wore lipstick. Especially the coral, pinkish orange variety. As I was opening each tube, I noticed the shades were very similar. I kept thinking I was picking up the same tube over and over again. Then, I realized she had four tubes of the same color. Specifically, L’Oreal’s Volcanic.