Page 29 of Clara Knows Best

He started up the stairs, slowly and inexorably, and she kept a hand on his back as she followed him, as though that were at all necessary.

“Turn left,” she instructed at the top, and hit the lightswitch as they entered her bedroom. “Sit here, please.”

He settled into the overstuffed armchair like a man who had slept only three hours of the last thirty-six; that is to say, he did not look like a flight risk.

“There are several steps to a good at-home facial,” she told him as she gathered supplies from around her bedroom and bathroom. “So this might take a little while. But I promise you, it will be well worth it.”

“Just no makeup,” he requested.

“I wouldn’t waste my makeup on you,” she assured him.

It would have been easier to send him to wash his own face at the bathroom sink, but she wanted to give him the luxury salon experience so she washed it for him and patted it dry with a towel.

“Phase one of the exfoliation,” she said a minute later, so that he wouldn’t be startled when she touched his face again. “This is an acid exfoliating mask which we will leave on for ten minutes.”

“Uh, huh.”

She smiled at the dry response and was just glad that he could not see how much the creamy mask resembled liquid foundation as she spread it onto his forehead and cheeks. “Let me know if the tingling becomes uncomfortable.”

“Trust me, I will.”

“So, now that you can’t leave for ten minutes, how’d it go at the hospital?”

“Not good.”

“We can do your fingernails while we’re waiting.”

“I don’t want pink hearts on them.”

“I’m not going to polish them, idiot.”

“Just don’t get distracted and leave this acid on my face for too long, all right?”

“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.” She retrieved her manicure kit. “Still tingling?”

“Yeah.”

She grabbed his left hand and inspected his nails. Then she started clipping. “Your skin is so dry. You have nice looking hands, though.”

“Uh, thanks. I guess.”

“So did that guy die or what?”

“No, he didn’t die. He’s just not doing as well as I thought.”

“Sucks.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, with the ghost of a smile.

“Did you see his family?”

“His mom was there. Little old lady.” He was quiet for a minute, and then added, “Thanked me for keeping him alive long enough for her to get to his bedside.”

Clara didn’t feel that there was anything she could say, so she just trimmed his thumbnail. “Other hand.”

He gave her his right. When she was done trimming all his nails, she wiped off the face mask and applied the next step: the scrub.

“This will feel a little scratchy,” she warned. “We’re getting rid of all the dead skin cells.”

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