Behind You by Catherine Hernandez

Author:Catherine Hernandez
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Canada
Published: 2024-03-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

We were the picture of Catholic family dysfunction as we descended the escalator at the Eaton Centre mall. To assist my sister, a teenaged mother, I was in the front, holding Jess’s stroller up from the bottom wheels. Leah was above me, holding the handles, urging Jess to “be nice to Mommy and stop spitting out your soother!” Our single mom was behind her, holding a garment bag full of my clothes.

“Alma. The escalator is ending.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“It’s coming. Look behind you.”

“I can see that.”

“Step down. Don’t fall, ha?”

“Yes. I heard you.”

At the base of the escalator was our destination: Glamourpuss Portraits. I had envied all the cool girls who got their photos done there before. Portraits weren’t something on my mom’s radar, especially since my family often joked about how I ruined family photos. Even though I experimented with different poses, different smiles, they would inevitably point and chuckle at how ugly I was. So as not to be labelled ugly and difficult, I would laugh along, even though I thought it was far from funny. Eventually, I stopped posing in group photos altogether and offered to be the one taking them instead. They never argued with me.

Now things were different. Somewhat. I was auditioning for a new Catholic arts high school, which was being built twenty-five kilometres away, in North York. There were four majors to choose from: music, dance, visual arts and drama. I chose drama just so I could access the school’s state-of-the-art film lab. The promo booklet that had been mailed to us featured glossy artist renderings of several editing suites and shiny new VHS cameras. For this audition, I needed to memorize a monologue and issue a headshot to the jury.

Tita Lorna suggested we go to Glamourpuss Portraits. It was a new craze that disrupted the cheesy mall portrait business by being an even cheesier mall portrait business. Parents could send their young daughters to this chain of storefronts and have them photographed professionally, with real studio lighting, a makeup artist, a new hairdo and wardrobe.

“See this?” Tita Lorna had reached her hand into the thin plastic wrap and pulled out a pile of photos.

“Wooooow! Belinda is so photogenic.”

Peering over my mother’s shoulder, I watched her leaf through the images. Belinda in front of a backdrop of roses, leaning on her forearms covered in purple-bow evening gloves. Belinda pretending to spray her towering bird’s nest hair while winking coyly at the camera. Belinda doing jazz hands in front of a paint-splattered backdrop. All with a soft-focus filter. Mom was right: she looked incredible. To look that good, to have hair that high, seemed much too lofty a dream for me. Mom had booked an appointment anyway.

So there we were, at the entrance of Glamourpuss Portraits, the sound of C+C Music Factory blaring over the speakers.

“Okay, I’m gonna look for some new shoes for the baby,” said Leah as she wheeled the stroller away. What a relief. There was only so much I could take of them embarrassing me.

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