She stood in front of Blah’s sink, leaning into the mirror, trying to catch the light properly. Blah stood behind her, propped against the sliding door of the small closet, where Sewanee’s ballgown hung.
“Damn fluorescents,” Blah muttered. “The good lord didn’t intend for makeup to be applied under fluorescents.”
“I can manage. Doesn’t have to be camera-ready.”
“What lipstick do you have?”
Sewanee dug in her bag and handed it to her. She inspected it and nodded. They said, in unison, “It’ll bring out the purple in the dress.”
When she was a kid, Sewanee would watch BlahBlah put on her makeup, sitting at her vanity in her room at Bitsy’s house. Marilyn had been a mascara and ChapStick kind of mom. The slightest hint of some plum eye shadow for special occasions. Blah, on the other hand, never left the house without a full face on. She had learned makeup as a craft, from the studio makeup artists, and she’d passed it all down to Sewanee the way some grandmothers passed down recipes.
She fell into a memory of her grandmother’s smiling face beside hers in the mirror. The smell of nicotine fingers on her chin and the peppermint Altoid in Blah’s mouth to cover it. Blah boinking her on the nose with a blush brush and saying, “Dollface.” Like an anointing. A coronation. A curse?
Blah grunted as she moved away. “Want a Mallomar?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
As Sewanee applied the lipstick, she heard Blah murmur, “What in the world . . .” and Sewanee poked her head around the corner. Blah was standing next to her bed, staring down at the nightstand.
“What?”
“They’re gone.”
“You probably ate them.”
“Luckily, it’s not summer. I can still stock up.”
Sewanee went back to the mirror. “I never understood that.”
“They don’t ship in the summer months. Nestlé was afraid the chocolate would melt. No refrigeration trucks.”
“But that was a long time ago.”
“Over a hundred years. Can you believe it? That cookie’s been around longer than me. You still can’t get them during the summer, though. Now I think it’s a marketing ploy. Supply and demand. Extortionist sons of bitches. Do you know they make it in Canada, but you can’t get it in Canada? They have this other thing called a Whippet. Supposed to be the same, but I don’t believe it. I think they even put some kind of jam in them. The bastards.”
Sewanee came out to where Blah was standing. “You know, for someone who’s losing it, it’s ridiculous what you remember.”
“No, it’s Mallomars. The one true love of my life. Besides you.” Blah turned to her. “Now, you are a sight! Perfection.” That said, she rubbed a crooked finger under Swan’s eye, right at the lash line. “You always forget to blend.”
“With one eye I only have half the practice now.”
Blah pshawed. “You’re gorgeous, Dollface. The most gorgeous girl I know.”
Sewanee groaned theatrically as she walked back to the closet. She took the dress off the hanger and slipped into it. She secured her eye patch over her updo and gave herself a good once-over in the mirror. Not bad. In truth, the awards were not what she was dressing for tonight. Sewanee tried to breathe through her anxiety. And Spanx.
“Where are my Mallomars?” she heard from the other side of the wall.
“You ate them,” Sewanee repeated, coming around. “We’ll get some more tomorrow. Remember, it’s still cold out, so–”
Blah shook her head. “They were right here!” She pointed at the nightstand. Her voice had grown anxious. “Someone stole them! I don’t like the new nurse here. She comes in whenever she feels like it and watches me. I bet she stole the Mallomars.”
“She didn’t steal–”
“I want to go home.”
Sewanee took her grandmother’s hands and tried to catch her eye. “Blah, you are home. This is your home. And you have a wonderful home. Everyone here cares about you. You’re just forgetting you finished your cookies, that’s all.”
Blah calmed, but pointed at the nightstand. “I keep them right there.”
“I know, but . . .” Sewanee looked where she was pointing.
There was a glossy 8x10 folder covered in stock photos of elderly people laughing. At the top, the words: SUNNYSIDE–A BETTER CARE SOLUTION. She stilled. “Where did that come from?”