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  From then on I went back to my facialist in the suburbs. It’s lovely there. They’ve got comfy couches and powder-pink walls and I’ve known Sheila, the facialist, for years. I never even tried to get another hairdresser in the city. There are a couple of salons down the street from my apartment, but they look too overdone for me. I looked into the window of a place one time when I thought that maybe I’d just get a blowout. They don’t even sit you in normal hairdresser’s chairs. They sit you on stools! Can you imagine? Of course no one over the age of fifty goes in there. Whose back could stand sitting on that stool for so long?

  “I think it should be cut shaggy, with lots of layers,” Lucy commented as we left my apartment building.

  “Oh, Lucy, I don’t want to do anything too crazy.” I pulled my compact umbrella out of my tote in preparation to walk on such a sunny day.

  “Gram,” Lucy said and laughed, staring at the umbrella, “come on, do you really need the old-lady umbrella today? You’re wearing your Ellie Jerome dress! No one will be able to see you behind this big ugly umbrella.”

  “You’re right, Ms. Smarty Pants.” I laughed and handed it to her. “I don’t need it today, but you do! It’s about time that you start taking care of your skin. Trust me, Lucy, you will thank me when you’re old. Come to think of it, though, since I’m only going to be this way for a day, I’m going to sit in the sun like I haven’t done in years. Lucy, add that to the list of things to do today.”

  Lucy took out the list we’d made. “Do you want to schedule the sun time before your bikini wax or after you try on thongs?”

  “After we try on thongs. My tush hasn’t seen the sun in fifty years, so who knows?” I nudged her, laughing, but she didn’t join in.

  “Do you want to be arrested, too? That’s another thing you’ve never done.”

  “Spoilsport.” I smiled at her as she locked her arm in mine.

  As we looked up, we saw Hershel Neal coming toward us.

  “Oh, crap, here comes Hershel,” I whispered to Lucy.

  “Hi, Lucy,” he said and held out his hand to her.

  “Hi, Mr. Neal. How are you today?” she said, extending her hand to him. He took her hand in his and clasped it tenderly.

  “Very good. How was your grandmother’s birthday?”

  “It was a really nice night.” She turned to me. “Hershel, this is my cousin Ellie, uh, Michele, uh, Ellie Michele, from Chicago.”

  “Of course you are!” He smiled then took my hand and clasped it. “You two could be twins. Very nice to meet you. Ellie Michele—that’s an interesting name. I guess you were named for your grandmother?”

  “Yes.” I smiled, but that was all I said. I couldn’t stand him when I was old; he was the last person I wanted to talk to when I was young.

  “By the way, Ellie Michele, that’s a lovely dress.”

  I looked down and smoothed the dress.

  “Thank you,” I said, barely smiling.

  “Please send your grandmother a nice hello from me,” he said to Lucy.

  “Will do.”

  As we walked past him, Lucy whispered back to me, “Hershel Neal says hello.”

  “Thanks,” I said with a hmph.

  “I don’t see what’s wrong with him,” she said. “He’s cute.”

  “Oh, please,” I said, turning around to see the back of him. “Here it is, seventy-eight degrees outside, and Hershel is in a sports jacket. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that man outside without a sports jacket on.”

  “Of all the people to complain about that—you’re Miss Proper.”

  “I’m just saying that it would be nice to see him in something a little more comfortable. He’s such a stuffed shirt.”

  “You like him,” Lucy ribbed.

  “Oh, please.” I threw up my hands.

  “You do, you like him,” she egged me on.

  “I like that he pays attention to me, but I told you before, I don’t need another old man coming into my life who’s going to tell me what to do.”

  “How do you know he’d be like that?”

  “Believe me, I know. All men from my generation are like that. You know who he’d be better off with, don’t you?”

  “Who?” she asked.

  “Frida. The two of them are so buttoned-up it wouldn’t be such a bad idea if they unbuttoned together, if you know what I mean.” I laughed. “God, for Frida to start dating someone, that would be a dream. No, there is no way I would ever go on a date with that man.”

  “You’re being so closed-minded.”

  “Subject closed. I’m right.”

  “Fine.” Lucy sighed.

  “Oh, and another thing—let’s figure out exactly what my name is. Should I be Ellie or Michele? That Ellie Michele stuff sounded crazy.”

  “Well, I guess if we run into Frida again, your name is Michele. We’ll have to call you Ellie, though, if you need to pay with a credit card. What if they ask for an ID?”

  “Smart thinking,” I said. “How did you get so smart?”

  “It runs in the family.” Lucy smiled and we continued walking, arms locked.

  Lucy’s hair salon was a place that never would have accepted me at my real age. On this day, though, I was exactly who they wanted in their shop. We walked over to the reception desk, which looked like a spaceship (and not to be rude, but the receptionist’s hairstyle looked like it was from outer space, too, and I hoped they wouldn’t do something like that to me).

  “Now here’s what I want,” I told Lucy’s hairdresser, Szechuan. (Szechuan! A name only a hairdresser would have, and only in a salon like this one. For this day, though, I accepted it wholeheartedly.)

  “She wants sexy,” Lucy interrupted.

  “I want feminine sexy,” I told him.

  “She wants cool,” Lucy continued.

  “Yes, yes,” I said, getting excited. “I want to be the sexiest, coolest, most feminine-looking woman who ever walked out of this place.”

  “I’ve got it.” Szechuan nodded. “We’ll do it all today. We’ll get rid of your natural blah color and make it a little darker. Then we’ll do highlights. Then we’ll shorten it. I don’t want to shorten it too much, but you have gorgeous bone structure, like your cousin, so you would look lovely if I cut some layers near the brow.”

  “All of that sounds good, Szechuan. Just as long as we can be out of here in an hour. We’ve got a full plate today.”

  “But all of that will take me at least three hours.”

  Lucy and I looked at each other.

  “How about just cutting it really short and sleek?” I asked.

  “Oh, you don’t want that,” Lucy protested. “If anything, you should get extensions.”

  “Actually, with her cheekbones it could work well,” Szechuan mused.

  “Come on, Gram . . . Ellie . . . Ellie Michele. You don’t want short,” Lucy said.

  “I do, I want it short. I want something light and sleek. I’ve had the same hairstyle, that helmet bob, since Barbara was in pigtails. I want sleek and stylish. I want my head to feel weightless for one day.”

  “Trust me, you don’t want short. No one wears their hair so short these days. It’s all long layers,” Lucy pleaded.

  “Lucy, it’s my day, and this is what I want.”

  “You’re going to hate it.”

  “I’ve made worse mistakes in my life.”

  “Fine, but don’t cry to me.” Lucy pouted.

  “Do you ride a motorcycle?” Szechuan asked.

  “What?” both Lucy and I asked.

  “The helmet.”

  This made us laugh.

  “I promise you,” Szechuan said, taking my purse from me, “you will both love it.”

  I took my purse back from him. “I trust you,” I told him, putting my purse back on my lap.

  “Ellie, I’ll take your purse,” Lucy said, taking it.

  Lucy realized that I was doing what old ladies do—we keep our purses close to us. Barbara had menti
oned that to me before. Hey, I didn’t know this Szechuan or the shampoo ladies from Adam. Younger people are more trusting than people my age. So I gave Lucy my bag.

  For years my hair has been just past my shoulders, when it’s wet and without the aid of curlers or hair spray. When my hairdresser does it, it’s teased and curled so it looks about an inch shorter. Howard always liked it like that. I always got the same cut because Howard liked it so much. And all those years, what I wouldn’t have given to just cut it all off! After Howard died, though, it just got away from me.

  “Short,” I instructed, “and sleek.”

  “Short and sleek.” Szechuan smiled at Lucy. “Actually, it’s going to be nice to do something different than the same long shag.”

  “And is there someone who could put a little makeup on me?” I asked.

  “Oh, sure!” Szechuan got excited as he called out, “Hortense! Lucy’s cousin wants a little makeup put on.”

  With each snip, I could almost feel the weight of my life coming off me. Lucy buried her head in her e-mail contraption as I watched this Szechuan person have a go at me. I could see the tense look I didn’t even know I had on my face become an assured, confident look. I puckered my lips a little more, accentuating my cheekbones. I was loving myself more with each snip.

  “Oh, crap,” Lucy practically shouted. “Gram, with all that was going on this morning, I completely forgot that this was like one of the most important days of my life.”

  “What did you call her?” Szechuan asked.

  “It’s her nickname for me. I love graham crackers,” I lied as I turned back to Lucy. “What’s the problem?”

  “Today is the day I go to the Barneys rep for the store on Rittenhouse Square. I have to leave you for a while.”

  “No, let me come with you. I want to see you work!” I said, excited at the thought.

  “No, Gram, I have do this on my own. You’ll be okay for a while.”

  “Come on, let me come with you. I promise I won’t say anything. You can say I’m your secretary or something. I’ll bring a clipboard and pretend to take notes.”

  “That’s so sweet!” Szechuan said to me, awed. “You’re so proud of your cousin!”

  I smiled at Lucy like a grandmother smiles at her perfect grandchild. “You don’t even know the half of it,” I told him.

  “Okay, fine,” Lucy said. “But promise me you won’t say anything.”

  “What?” I couldn’t hear her because the hair dryer was in my ear.

  “Promise you won’t say a word.”

  “Oh, I promise,” I said, drawing an X over my heart.

  “How long did you say you were in town for?” Szechuan asked.

  I paused and thought about it. “Just one day. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  “What a shame,” he said, turning to Lucy. “I like her.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled.

  “Okay, I’m done here,” he said, turning me around so I couldn’t see the mirror. “But I don’t want you to see the finished product until Hortense finishes your makeup.”

  “I won’t look, either,” Lucy said, turning her back to me. “I want to wait for the finished product, too.”

  “It’s a deal. What time is the meeting?” I asked Lucy as Hortense applied some powder to my face.

  “In an hour and a half. So that gives us time to have a little lunch,” she said.

  “And the thongs?” I reminded her.

  “Yes, the thongs, too.” Lucy laughed.

  “So did you two grow up together, like sisters?” Hortense asked as she lined my eyes.

  “No, I’m older than Lucy.”

  “Oh, so you bossed her around?” Hortense teased me.

  “No, I couldn’t boss her around. Her mother took care of that.”

  I watched as Lucy’s back pulsed with a laugh. “Ellie was the one who always stood up for me,” she said.

  “Isn’t that sweet. Like a big sister,” Szechuan said.

  “Yes, kind of.” Lucy laughed.

  “How old are you?” Szechuan asked. “You can’t be that much older than Lucy.”

  Lucy reached around without looking at me and pinched my arm.

  “I’m . . . I’m a woman of a certain age.” I smiled.

  “Touché.” Szechuan snapped his fingers.

  “Okay, I’m done. Are you ready to look at yourself?” Hortense asked as she backed away for Lucy and Szechuan to see.

  Szechuan grabbed his chest. “¡Ay, Dios mío!” he gasped.

  “Gram. No. Seriously. Gram, that’s not you!” Lucy exclaimed.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake, you’re so dramatic,” I said to her as Szechuan turned me toward the mirror.

  Okay, maybe I was a little gorgeous.

  Okay, maybe a lot.

  “Szechuan, do you think you could cut my hair short like that?” Lucy asked.

  “I just love the ease of it,” Szechuan said, combing his fingers through my hair. “I’m going to call this the ‘Gram Cut.’”

  “And you didn’t need a lot of makeup,” Hortense added. “I just made you look fresh.”

  “If people didn’t turn and look at you on the street before, you’re going to cause accidents now,” Szechuan said.

  That’s when it occurred to me—the people looking at me on the streets that morning! I’d thought it was because I looked so strange in the clothes I’d been wearing. Was it possible that they were looking at me because I was attractive? No. Could it be?

  I didn’t even want to touch my hair; I was afraid that any small movement would ruin it. I was so happy I wanted to cry, but I was afraid that I’d ruin my makeup.

  “So, what do you think?” Lucy asked.

  “I think I need to take a moment,” I said, and I really did. “Could you tell me where the powder room . . . uh, the bathroom is?” I asked Hortense.

  “I’ll show you,” she said, taking my hand.

  We walked through the salon, past the other chairs, and I glanced at the other young women having their hair done. All of them were under the age of thirty. No one thought it was strange that I was there. I was one of them.

  Hortense led me to the restroom but as I unconsciously moved toward the door marked with a handicapped symbol, she put her arm on mine and indicated the regular ladies’ room.

  “Here you go.” She smiled.

  “Thank you.” I smiled back and shut the door.

  I stared at myself in the mirror, just as I had for so long earlier that morning. I thought to myself that if I didn’t stop I’d turn into Narcissus and stand there for the rest of the day. I looked for just another minute, though—just one more minute. And then it was time for the rest of my day.

  On the way out I kissed Szechuan on both cheeks, as I’d watched Lucy do a second before, and then did the same with Hortense. I decided that I would do that from now on, and not just when I went to Europe.

  If I do say so myself, we looked like an ad in a magazine as we walked arm in arm down sunny Chestnut Street. Somehow everything looked different to me. It could have been because I wasn’t feeling the pain of bunions or the way my back hurt when I walked a few blocks. I held my head high and looked in all the shop windows. I noticed people’s faces as they walked by. I was starting to see things through the eyes of a twenty-nine-year-old.

  “If I could take one memory from this day, this would be it,” I said and smiled at Lucy.

  “What, walking down the street?”

  “Yes, just walking down the street with you, arm in arm.” I pulled her in tighter.

  “Me, too.” She smiled, putting her head on my shoulder.

  We walked half a block with our arms around each other and only stopped when Lucy’s cell phone rang.

  “It’s Mom.” She grimaced.

  “Don’t answer it.”

  “She’ll keep calling if I don’t.”

  “So let her.”

  Lucy put her phone back in her purse.

  “Okay, so where should
we eat?” I pondered.

  “Johnny is working the lunch shift today. We could go see him.”

  “Is it a good place to eat?”

  “It is—really cool. They’ve got outside seating.”

  “I only want to go places that are young and hip today.”

  “This place is young and hip. They’ve got cushy ottomans for chairs.”

  “What’s with the youth and having no backs for chairs?”

  “What do you mean?” She giggled.

  “I mean every place that’s hip and chic has no backs on their chairs.”

  “That’s a good question,” Lucy replied. “I never thought about it before.”

  Lucy’s phone rang again. She dug into her purse and looked at the phone’s caller ID. “It’s Mom again. I told you she would just keep calling.”

  “That woman . . .” I threw my hands up in disgust. “She’ll give up after a while.”

  “I should answer it,” Lucy said, worried.

  “No, it’s my day, and I’m being selfish. Don’t answer the phone.”

  “B-But . . .” Lucy stammered.

  I gave her a look that shot her down.

  “Fine,” she said, throwing the phone back in her purse.

  “So tell me more about this Johnny.”

  “Well,” Lucy began, smiling again, “he’s handsome.”

  “Yes.”

  “And smart.”

  “Yes. He doesn’t want to be a waiter all his life, does he?”

  “Yes, Gram. His dream is to be head waiter before he’s fifty.”

  I looked at her in disbelief. Even in my young body I was still slow to pick up on jokes.

  “I’m kidding!” She grinned. “He wants to open up his own restaurant. He’s got some amazing ideas. And his best friend Zach created a Web site called couture.com. He has a ton of money; he’s going to fund the restaurant.”

  “And what’s wrong with dating the rich best friend instead of the waiter?”

  “Jeez, Gram, we’re twenty-five years old. We’re supposed to have no money right now. We won’t start making money until our thirties. Zach just has money because he got a good idea for a Web site and sold it for like fifty million dollars. Anyway, I’m not attracted to Zach. He’s cute, but Johnny is more my type. Zach is the suit-wearing type. Johnny is jeans and sneakers.”