LaRose(79)

The treatments could be assembled out of the pantry and refrigerator. Sugar facial. Salt exfoliation for the feet. Cinnamon and honey lip exfoliation. Egg-white facial that would tighten your skin. Cucumber eye mask. Frozen tea bag eye mask. Lemon hair rinse. Mayonnaise hair moisturizing treatment. They decided that they were going to do that one first.

Snow set a jar of mayo on the table along with a roll of plastic wrap. She poured a quarter cup of oil into a bowl. Maggie sat down in a kitchen chair, a towel over her shoulders, and Snow massaged mayonnaise and canola oil into the crown of Maggie’s head, then down each strand of hair. Maggie wanted to laugh. The smell was annoying but Snow’s massage felt so good that she fizzed up inside. She closed her eyes and sealed her lips. It would be weird to laugh. Snow wound the plastic wrap around and around Maggie’s head. She tucked the ends tight, then wrapped a towel tightly over the plastic into a turban.

Now you can go sit in Dad’s recliner and Josette will do the frozen tea bag treatment on your eyes, and the salt exfoliation on your feet. After that, Josette’s going to do the mayo treatment on my hair, then we all do the egg-white face mask.

I want one too, said Emmaline when she saw the girls painting the egg whites onto their faces, and onto LaRose. They lay on the couch, or on towels on the floor. They listened to the radio while waiting for the egg white to dry. As it dried, it started pulling on their skin.

Can you feel it?

I can, said Maggie, her eyes shut beneath the melting Lipton tea bags.

Kinda hurts, said Josette after a moment.

That’s because it’s stimulating your collagen.

Emmaline sat up. Can I take it off now?

Maggie took the tea bags off her eyes. Mine’s dry.

Ow! Don’t smile, said Josette. But she laughed. The dried egg white on Snow’s face had cracked in a web of tiny lines.

Get it off!

They washed off the egg white and admired the smoothness of one another’s skin. They unwound the turbans, washed their hair, and couldn’t get the mayonnaise out. Maggie looked into the mirror and saw that the tea had left raccoon marks around her eyes. Within the stains, her eyes gleamed as if with fever. She looked mysteriously ill. She examined the porcelain finish on her cheeks.

Wow, said Emmaline. My face is all dried out. It feels like my skin is going to fall off.

Me too, said LaRose.

She stared into the mirror and started rubbing Oil of Olay onto her forehead.

Now the manicures!

Josette brought out a tray of nail enamels.

I’m leaving for town to get Coochy. Do your homework, said Emmaline to the girls. And this egg-white mask? I think it aged me ten years. Her skin was still tight and strange.

I’m going with you, said LaRose.

You’re from the olden days, said Josette suddenly, bending over to hug LaRose. You got an old spirit.

Just that egg white, said LaRose.

Know what he said? You guys, know what he said? He said what we used for TV in the olden time was stories.

Come on, said Emmaline.

No, really, he said that!

I mean come on—let’s go.

Maggie and Snow jumped in the car and got a ride into town. They wanted to buy cinnamon for the lip treatment, and they had to get more shampoo.

We smell like freakin’ sandwiches, said Snow.

Whose idea was this, the mayo?

Mine.

Really?

Actually, Josette’s, but she’s sensitive, you know?

Maggie hadn’t thought of Josette as the sensitive one.

My mom’s sensitive, said Maggie, and wished she hadn’t. Anyway, they were both sitting in the backseat of the car, where Emmaline couldn’t hear. Snow was silent, but Maggie could tell she was thinking of what to say. After a while, Snow spoke.

Your mom, she’s okay. I mean, she’s done pretty well, don’t you think, considering?

Mom’s hard to deal with, said Maggie. She stopped herself from chipping at her new nail color. Pale sky blue.

Snow didn’t tell her how she and Josette had recoiled from that witchy vibe Nola had given off those first years. She said that Josette liked how Nola planted flowers.

She’s into that, said Maggie.

Snow’s approval of something that her mother did had a strange effect on Maggie. Her stomach seemed to float inside her body. Yet there was a jealous itch in her brain. She looked at Snow, at the elegant way she held her mayonnaise-smelling head, the slim flex of her shoulders, the perfectly layered T-shirts. She needed Snow to understand.

My mother actually doesn’t like me, you know, said Maggie. She loves LaRose.

Snow’s eyebrows drew together, her lips parted; she stared into Maggie’s face. Just when Maggie was about to shoot her mouth off, say something tough, swear to stop what she saw in Snow’s eyes might turn to pity, Snow reached an arm around Maggie’s shoulders and said, Oh shit, baby-girl, we gotta stick together. Look.

Nicking her head toward the front seat, she shaped her face to indicate LaRose and Emmaline.

He doesn’t even have to call shotgun anymore, said Snow. Guess who’s always stuck in the backseat whenever Mom’s got time with LaRose?

Maggie stuttered; it was like an unexpected present thrust into her hands.

I never knew.

It’s a fact of life, said Snow. We call her out on it all the time. She doesn’t get it. Hollis and Coochy, they’re tight. And we got each other, me, Josette. And, hey.