Missing You

“Remember when you tinted your hair that God awful red?” I laugh. “I think it took me three hours to get it back to your original shade of color.”

                She says nothing, but then I don’t expect her to as I twist another piece of hair around the curling iron. “I promised, you are going to look perfect today,” I continue in a soft voice, and with a keen eye I inspect her from head to toe. The chic cut I’ve given her accentuates the angle of her chin. A half smile plays about her rosy lips. It is only then that I notice three small hairs lining her upper lip.

Perfect. She has to be perfect!

Putting the curling iron down, I reach for my tweezers. Plucking the offensive intrusions I find two more. My fingers slide over the waxy surface of skin and I efficiently remove imperfections before resuming styling her hair.  “Absolute Perfection,” I say as I coax another stray curl to do my bidding. It is only when her hair passes my professional inspection that I meticulously dab a small amount of concealer over the scar upon her crown before brushing soft wisps of curls over her brow. The pearl shimmer nail polish applied with painstaking precision complements the baby pink roses in her hands.  A kerchief is draped in front of the flowers hiding her clenched fists, but the makeup is flawless, the hair color stunning, the dress exquisite.

Altering pleats so they rest smoothly against her body, I check for any flawlessness, then check again to be certain I haven’t missed something. Heartache clenches inside my chest as I meticulously arrange her dress.

Hands shaking, it is only then that I allow myself to breath in the perfection that rests before me. Tears slip down my face, and I quickly step back so I don’t mar the beauty of her creation.

She is ready.

She looks peaceful. Beautiful. Absolutely perfect.

My talents as a makeup artist and stylist have allowed me to give her this last earthly gift of perfection in death if not in life. It is strange, but not disturbing that I can feel her spirit next to me. I also sense she is satisfied with my ministrations. Perhaps that is because when her family comes to see her in a few hours they will not see her mangled scar body tarnished by life’s mishaps and difficulties, for they will see perfection.