Paulie’s backpack swung awkwardly from the crook of her elbow as she dragged her suitcase up the stairs behind her.
“Do you need help?” her grandmother’s voice floated up from the kitchen.
“No, I got it, Gigi!” huffed Paulie, the suitcase thumping against each step. It had taken almost six years of pleading—half her life—but she was finally going to stay with her grandmother, by herself, for two whole weeks. Saturday overnights at Gigi’s had always included things she never got to do at home, like staying up until midnight and eating M&Ms for dinner, so she was sure this summer vacation was going to be epic. After dropping her bags in the corner of her room, she raced back down the stairs and into the kitchen, grinning.
“Gigi. Did you maybe buy any of those little boxes of cereal like last time?”
“You mean these?” asked Gigi, smiling as she made the Fun Pak dance a little before handing it over to Paulie.
“Yay! Thanks!” Paulie bounced up on her toes as she pulled the Froot Loops out of the cellophane and tore into the box. “Want some?” She offered the box to Gigi.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Gigi said. She popped a few of the fluorescent rings into her mouth without even grazing her candy apple red lipstick.
By the next afternoon, Paulie had already devoured the entire Fun Pak. And because it was so hot out, she had also slurped her way through at least a dozen Otter Pops. She had saved the four blue raspberry for last and ate them one after the other while reclining on the La-Z-Boy and watching Spongebob Squarepants. When the last popsicle was gone, she ran to find Gigi who was relaxing on the chaise lounge in the back garden.
“Gihgih! Lookh ath mah thongh!” yelled Paulie, hanging her tongue out of her mouth.
“Oh my gosh Paulie! You will not even believe this, but your tongue is BLUE!” shrieked Gigi in mock horror, eyes wide and hand clapped over her heart.
“I know!” giggled Paulie as she flopped on the grass, continuing to wag her dayglo tongue at her grandmother. Paulie felt so carefree that she began to make lawn angels; she wished she could live at Gigi’s forever.
The morning of Paulie’s third day, the weather promised to be stiflingly hot. Because the house didn’t have air conditioning, Gigi suggested they see back-to-back movies at the theater. Paulie was excited—she hadn’t ever done that before.
“We’ll leave after lunch,” said Gigi, who never went anywhere without putting on her face. Paulie’s mom always said Gigi wore ‘way too much makeup’ and that it ‘ruled her life.’ Paulie disagreed; she loved watching Gigi apply all her products and colors, even though it took forever.
Gigi organized her endless beauty products in her dressing table. It was like her office, where after breakfast, Gigi and Paulie would sit down and get to work in front of the huge rectangular mirror framed with frosted globe-shaped bulbs. The table had seven drawers, one of which was, of course, devoted entirely to lipsticks. Five others were full of makeup bottles, tubes, pots, and pencils, as well as tools like brushes, tweezers, cotton swabs, and a magnifying mirror. The last drawer, the second one on the left, held only a silver-colored retractable powder brush and a short stack of cotton rounds. Paulie often wondered why Gigi always left that drawer so empty.
While Gigi applied her makeup, Paulie would pouf out the powder brush and swoop it all over her face. She’d inhale its delicate fragrance of rose petals and baby powder until she could barely smell it anymore. Then, she’d retract the brush, put on the cap, and place it back in the drawer. Paulie repeated this process over and over until Gigi was satisfied with her face.
“Gigi, you know the movie theater is dark, right? And no one will see you?” offered Paulie, hoping to get to the movies more quickly. “Sometimes my mom just puts on a baseball cap.”
“A baseball cap? Ha. Listen, Paulie. It doesn’t matter if it’s dark, because I will know and I won’t feel my best.”
When Gigi was finally ready to go, they headed off in her bronze Cadillac to a theater about an hour away to see an afternoon double-feature of Toy Story I and II.
“Gigi?” asked Paulie as they merged into traffic, “When we get home, can we crack an egg on the roof of your car and see if it’ll fry? There’s this guy on YouTube—”
“Let me stop you right there. I’m sure an egg would fry in this heat, but no, we are not going to try that on my car.” Gigi selected her favorite station, 80s on 8, and turned it up so they could hear Blondie’s “Call Me” over the maxxed-out air conditioner.
Once at the theater, Gigi bought them Raisinets and a large popcorn to share. Just as “You’ve Got a Friend in Me” began, Gigi whispered, “I’m fine with buying some snacks at the concession stand, but there’s no way I’m paying five bucks for one bottle of water.” She bent over and rummaged around inside her cavernous handbag, her head practically disappearing as she searched. “Here. I brought you one.”
“Thanks, Gigi,” whispered Paulie.
After handing Paulie the bottle, Gigi continued poking around in her bag. “Shoot,” she muttered, “Where’d it go?”
Paulie glanced over and in the flicker of the movie light, it looked as if Gigi’s nose was gone. Startled, she turned to look again, but by this point, Gigi was holding a tissue over her face. When she took the tissue away, her nose looked fine. “That’s weird,” thought Paulie, as the movie sucked her in.
The fourth day at Gigi’s was another scorcher, and they lounged around at home under the oscillating fan eating Italian ice. After watching some episodes of M*A*S*H, (“For history,” Gigi said), they enjoyed a few of Jane the Virgin, (“For the Spanish”), and then settled in for Blue Planet II, (“Science!”). When they got to the part in the fourth episode where the mother whale carries her dead calf, they both started to cry. Sobbing, Paulie handed Gigi a paper towel. As Gigi wiped her eyes, Paulie thought she saw her stretch her eyelids down to her cheekbones and then wiggle them back into place. Totally creeped-out, Paulie tilted her head, and asked, “Gigi? Is your face okay?” When Gigi didn’t respond, Paulie squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. She wanted to blame her tears for making things look strange, but that was hard to do when her insides felt so squiggly.
At breakfast on the fifth day, Gigi announced, “Well, I think it’s officially a heat wave. Only 7:30 a.m. and already 84 degrees. It’s like what, 200 percent humidity? Sheesh. I think we had better make today a mall day.” Paulie could not believe her luck. She’d get to spend as much time as she wanted examining the endless sparkly accessories in Claire’s, and help deploy Gigi’s strategic plans to collect the most gifts with purchase from her favorite makeup counters. Occasionally, Gigi would let Paulie use a sample of eyeshadow or blush, but never any of the lipsticks. “Not until you’re older,” Gigi always said. Paulie hoped she was old enough this time.
When they finished eating, they headed upstairs to the dressing table where Paulie settled in with the powder brush while Gigi applied toner, moisturizer, and sunscreen. She then mixed different shades of dewy foundation on the back of her hand to get just the right hue before blending it into her face. Eyes were next—shadow, highlighter, liner, and mascara. Last, she applied some Fresh Fuchsia lipstick and checked her face in the mirror from a few different angles.
“All right, it’s mall time!” Gigi announced. Paulie immediately put the powder brush away and raced to the front door to put on her shoes.
Sliding into the roasting Cadillac, Gigi checked her lipstick once more in the rear-view mirror, cranked the air conditioning, and headed to the mall.
They started at Lord & Taylor. As they approached the Clinique counter, a voice called out, “Anne!” The woman behind the counter was smiling and waving at Gigi.
“Laura! Well, this is fun. I had no idea you’d be working today,” said Gigi. “Meet my granddaughter, Paulie. We’re beating the heat here at the mall.”
“Nice to meet you, Paulie. This weather is too much, isn’t it? Now Anne, you might be surprised to learn we’re offering a free gift with purchase today,” said Laura, giving Gigi a knowing look.
“I think I had heard that,” said Gigi conspiratorially, “and I know I could use another Hot Tamale lipstick. Will that get me over the limit?”
“If you add an eyebrow pencil, it will,” said Laura, “Ooh! I like those new brows you chose. You probably don’t need to use a pencil anymore.”
“New brows?” Paulie asked, narrowing her eyes to focus on Gigi’s perfectly groomed eyebrows.
“She just means my new brow shape, don’t you, Laura?”
“Yes. That’s right, my bad,” Laura blushed a little around her ears. “That new shape really does suit you, Anne. You could do a coordinating lip liner instead?”
“Sold,” said Gigi.
Laura wrapped up the purchases with the gift and handed the shopping bag to Paulie as she whispered, “Something special might have fallen in there—you’ll have to check when you get home.” She added in a louder voice, “Have a beautiful day.”
“You too, Laura! Thanks so much and we’ll see you again soon,” said Gigi, giving Laura a twiddly finger wave as she and Paulie turned away from the counter and headed towards the mall entrance. As they walked past women’s shoes, Gigi said to Paulie triumphantly, “See? Just like I’ve been telling you. They’re so generous at Lord & Taylor. Now, let’s go see what’s new at Claire’s before we go to Bloomingdales for Lancôme.” Paulie grinned, swinging the shopping bag and practically skipping down the concourse, even past the Cinnabon smells, without stopping.
It became a full day of shopping, and by the time they got home, even though the sun had set, it was still unbearably hot. Gigi declared she was exhausted. Paulie wasn’t, and despite her pleas to watch just one more episode of The Great British Baking Show, Gigi insisted it was bedtime. So Paulie just lay awake in bed, sweaty and uncomfortable, watching the blue-green minutes, then hours, tick by on the Sony Dream Machine. At 1:00 a.m., still wide awake, her mind wandered to the feathery powder brush in the dressing table, and all she could think about was how good it would feel to brush it all over her face right then.
She slid out of bed and stepped lightly across the floor, avoiding the squeaky boards. Moonlight shone through the sheer curtains hanging in her bedroom windows and illuminated her steps. When Paulie touched the doorknob to Gigi’s bedroom, it rattled and she froze for a moment. Then, doing her best to twist the knob silently, she swung the door open. Paulie tiptoed into the darkened room.
As her eyes adjusted, she located the dressing table. She crept towards it and slid open the second drawer on the left. Just as she was about to slip her hand in to grab the brush, she noticed some shadowy lumps in the drawer. She leaned closer to get a better look. When they came into focus, Paulie realized she was looking at parts of a face, neatly arranged on cotton rounds lining the bottom of the drawer. As she began to recognize the outline of Gigi’s delicate nostrils, the soft creases of her eyelids, the upside-down check marks of her eyebrows, and the full roundness of her lips, Paulie’s heart began to race and her stomach dropped to her toes. She hadn’t imagined any of it. Gigi’s face really did come apart. Even Laura at the Clinique counter must have known—talking about Gigi’s ‘new’ eyebrows. Peeking over her shoulder, Paulie saw Gigi’s sleeping form. She had to know what Gigi looked like when all her face pieces were taken off, even if it turned out to be disgusting. Paulie held her breath and crept over to the side of the bed. She counted to five and then dared herself to look. What she saw reminded her of a real-life Mrs. Potato Head. There were two holes where her nose should have been that winked slightly with each breath, and she had a slit at her mouth. A silk sleep mask covered where her eyes would be. Paulie shivered and swallowed hard, regretting ever sneaking into Gigi’s room in the first place. Part of her wanted to go run and hide under the covers, but she knew there was no point. It’s not like she could unsee any of it. And besides, she still wanted that brush.
Returning to the drawer, she seized the powder brush and then hesitated. At that moment, Paulie wanted more than anything to try on Gigi’s face. She wondered what it would be like to have lips like hers, to paint them with reds and pinks, to stretch, pucker, and smush them together in the mirror every day. So she grabbed Gigi’s lips too, closed the drawer, and left the room quietly while blood pounded in her ears.
Standing in the hallway, Paulie exhaled and felt her heartbeat slow down a little as she examined the lips in the moonlight. They were supple, delicate, connected at the corners, and a tiny bit stretchy. “These better not be made of real skin,” Paulie thought as she made a fist and placed her thumb alongside her index finger to form a mouth on the side of her hand. She pushed the lips gently onto her thumb and index finger, then wiggled her thumb knuckle up and down to make her fist talk. “Hello, Paulie! Do you like my lips?” she whispered. The lips stayed put, and when she tried to remove them, they peeled away just like a sticky note. Satisfied with this test run, she decided to try them on her face. She peered into the bathroom mirror, and by the glow of the vanity nightlight, she carefully smoothed her grandmother’s lips over her own. They immediately transformed her face. Like Gigi’s high heels, they were a little big for Paulie, but she felt instantly different. Glamorous, even. She smiled and then tried making a little pout, but the edges of Gigi’s lips just pooched out. Maybe she needed some color. Paulie crept down the stairs to borrow a lipstick or two from Gigi’s handbag. She always kept at least three tubes in there so she could blend the colors to her liking. Paulie fished around and pulled out Coral and Apricot Fusion.
She returned to the bathroom mirror, and starting with Coral, mimicked Gigi: a stroke of color on the left side of the bow of the top lip; a stroke on the right; stretch out the bottom lip and apply all the way across; smush top and bottom lips together to distribute; check to be sure the color is in in the right place. “Not bad,” she thought, as she surveyed her work from a few angles. Paulie did the same with Apricot Fusion, which muted the Coral a bit. She smiled at herself in the mirror and headed back to her room, powder brush in hand, no longer minding the heat. She crawled into bed and stroked her face with the soft bristles until she fell asleep.
The next morning, Paulie woke to the frantic sound of drawers opening and closing. She almost rushed into Gigi’s room to see what was going on, but then stopped, realizing she was probably looking for her lips. As Paulie got out of bed, she was horrified to find streaks of Coral and Apricot Fusion all over the white pillowcase and sheets. She found the powder brush squashed in a fold of a quilt at the foot of the bed. She retracted the bent bristles and put the cap back on. She stripped the sheets off of the bed, deciding she could say she had gotten a bloody nose in the middle of the night. Paulie wondered if she’d be able to run the washing machine without Gigi’s help. Having no idea what to do about Gigi’s lips, she peeled them off of her own and placed them carefully on a tissue inside the zipper pocket of her backpack. As she sat on the edge of the bed listening to drawers whiz open and bang shut over and over again, Paulie remembered she hadn’t returned the lipsticks to Gigi’s handbag. She hurried downstairs with them, hoping to avoid seeing her lipless grandmother for at least a few more minutes.
Gigi soon followed. She murmured to Paulie distractedly while hiding her face by looking down at her feet, “I think I’ve lost something. Can you get yourself breakfast?” She then began furiously opening each drawer to check the contents. Silverware clattered in the dining room and Hummel figurines shuddered atop the living room hutch as her search intensified.
When Gigi finally looked up for a moment, Paulie noticed that her nose was on crooked, her eyebrows sat halfway up her forehead, and she had drawn some lopsided lips around her mouth with a burgundy lip liner. Paulie stared at her, and Gigi asked, “What?” before resuming her search. Paulie felt terrible for causing Gigi so much distress; she could make it all go away by just handing over the lips. But if she confessed, wouldn’t Gigi be so mad? And would she send her home early? Paulie didn’t want to risk it, so she copied Gigi and pretended everything was fine. Sitting down, she attempted to eat the Cheerios she had poured for herself, even though she couldn’t have been less hungry.
After breakfast, Paulie felt too guilty to sit with Gigi while she put on her makeup. Gigi didn’t seem to notice. They didn’t leave the house all day. Instead, Gigi kept returning to the dressing table, obsessively redrawing her lips, while Paulie sat on the end of the bed, opening and closing the powder brush until it broke. Somehow, the day passed, and when Gigi came in to kiss Paulie goodnight at bedtime, there was no kiss, only “sleep well” from the doorway, and no mention of the missing sheets.
Knowing she couldn’t keep the lips any longer, Paulie lay awake until she felt sure Gigi must be asleep. Once again, she crept into her grandmother’s room. She cradled the lips carefully in her palm; their corners were still stained with Coral and Apricot Fusion. She opened the dressing table drawer and as she slid Gigi’s lips onto the empty cotton round next to her nose, she heard Gigi’s sheets rustle.
The next morning at breakfast, Paulie was relieved to see that Gigi looked more like herself: full lips, even features, and a relaxed expression. Gigi was calm as she placed a new, boxed lipstick between them on the table. “Laura slipped a tube of Glazed Berry into the bag the other day. We both know you’re clearly ready for lipstick, right?” Paulie looked down at the perfect little box. Was this a trap? “Did you prefer the Apricot Fusion or the Coral? Personally, I like a layer of Coral before blending in a touch of Apricot Fusion to mute it a bit,” Gigi raised one eyebrow.
“Busted,” thought Paulie, as her chest tightened. It was clear that Gigi knew what Paulie had done, but she didn’t seem too angry. Paulie really wanted to reach for the lipstick, but she wasn’t sure what it would mean if she did. Gigi pushed the box toward her. “This is yours. Would you like it?”
Grabbing the box, Paulie blurted out, “Can I get a new face, too? Like you?”
“Not now,” Gigi said, unfazed as she sipped her coffee. “You’re too young. Your mom had to wait until she was 13 before she got hers. Besides, she’d kill me if we did that without her.”
Paulie sat in stunned silence as her mind filled with questions. How did she not know her mom took her face off? Where did she keep it? Did her dad know? Was that why she wouldn’t let them have a dog? And perhaps most perplexing, why did her mom keep her face so plain if she had gone to all the trouble of getting a new one?
“So Mom takes her face off, too?”
“Of course. That’s what women in our family do.”
“Does it hurt?”
“No, not really. Well not anymore, anyway.”
Paulie nodded as if she understood. Opening up the box, she pulled out the tube of Glazed Berry lipstick. As she removed the cap and turned the base, she admired its dark pink color. Looking more closely, she saw that it was flecked with tiny bits of glitter. Its shape was so perfect, she hardly dared to try it.
