Right Behind the Rain by Joyce Sweeney

Author:Joyce Sweeney
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781504004244
Publisher: Open Road Media

EIGHT

Fluorescent lights made squiggly reflections on the bathwater. I swept my hand over the tiles, collecting water on my fingertips. I felt wonderful. I had a date.

“I don’t know what sinister things you’re doing in there,” Kevin shouted through the door, “but some people need to use the bathroom.”

I tried to turn the tap with my foot. “Use the one downstairs!” I called. My voice rang against the tiles. We have a huge upstairs bathroom, remodeled to my mother’s specifications. Big bathrooms represent luxury to her. I think it looks like a locker room, but it’s great for singing.

“I’m not using that crummy bathroom downstairs,” Kevin said. “First, it’s pink, and second, I can’t shave with a little mirror like that. Do you want me to cut myself?”

I draped a washcloth over my face. “I don’t care one way or the other.”

He resorted to violence, pounding the door until it shook.

I slid low in the water. “Get lost!” I called.

“What are you going to all this trouble for?” he shouted. “He’s probably going to take you to a Burger King and then try to rip off your clothes in the back of his car. I wouldn’t take a bath for that.”

I pulled the plug with my foot and watched the water recede around my body. “I can’t hear you over the drain!”

“All right!” he said. “Fine! I’m going downstairs and shave in that crummy little dim, pink bathroom with no mirror! And when you come downstairs all dressed up and find me with my throat cut I hope you can still enjoy your evening!”

I wrapped a bath towel around myself. “Terrible delivery,” I called. “I can see why they don’t give you many speaking parts.”

He gave the door what sounded like a kick and thundered off downstairs. I was glad he was gone. I couldn’t enjoy my predate ritual with all that shouting going on.

The bathroom has a huge gilt vanity. I sat down, toweled my hair, and clipped it back off my face. Kevin may be gorgeous, but I’ve got the prettier hair. It’s Grandma Bryce’s hair, straight, shiny, and auburn. I’ve worn it the same way, down around my shoulders, since I was ten.

I worked my way from bottle to bottle, putting on moisturizer, dusting powder, body lotion, and cologne. Then I drew in artificial cheekbones and applied seven coats of black mascara, so my lashes were at least as long as my brother’s. I finished up with a new lipstick I’d bought for the occasion, Courageous Coral.

When I was done, I had transformed myself from cute to very cute, which is as far as I can go with what I’ve got. I gave my hair a final brushing to make it shine, then went to my room to get dressed.

Kevin hadn’t cut his throat yet. I could hear him singing in the bathroom downstairs. He can’t get near good acoustics without singing. He gave an emotional rendition of “Town Without Pity,” then went straight into “Oh, Susannah.” He has a chaotic mind.

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