“Dorotea, don’t do this. You are going to regret it.” My brother sucks the end of his pen as he stares at me. A trickle of droll slips down the pen and drips to the floor. -Yuk.
“Listen, Calvin. I am tired of how you always think you know more than me.”
He winks and pulls the pen out of his mouth as a long strand of spit clings to it. My shoulders tighten, and I look away. “Comes with the job as the oldest.”
“Yet, you know nothing about fashion.”
Calvin rubs his wet finger along his shirt, leaving a dark, moist trail. “You are talking to the king of fashion.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”
Calvin moves his face into mine. “Listen, I am being serious. You want the opinion of the opposite sex? Drawn-on eyebrows look hideous. Don’t do it. Guys don’t like it.”
I shove my phone into Calvin’s face. “Then explain my 32,000 followers.”
“They follow you because you are a freak.” He makes a strange animal noise, and I can feel his sound vibrate in my skull. I think he is the real freak.
“They follow me because unlike you, I really am the queen of looks.”
“I promise you will regret tattooing eyebrows on your face. What if the style changes?” Calvin sticks the pen back in his mouth and makes a spine-chill slurp.
Grandma shuffles in with that look of confusion, probably wondering why she ended up in the kitchen and who we are.
“Tell her, Grandma. She doesn’t need fakeness to be liked. Look at you, Grandma, you look like a troll, and we still love you.”
Grandma squints her heavy eyes at Calvin, layers of skin blocking her view. Good thing Grandma doesn’t know English because Calvin talks trash on her all the time. He’s such a jerk. She grabs his cheeks and plants her sticky lips on them, blowing her fruity breath in his face. Calvin’s whole body tightens, and I laugh. We hate Grandma kisses.
Calvin pulls away, and even though he keeps a fake smile on his face, he says, “Dang Grandma, your breath stinks,” with an emphasis on stinks. Grandma turns and comes at me, but I duck down to tie my shoe and miss my special kiss.
Calvin drapes his arm over Grandma’s boney shoulders, which really shows how tiny she is, being a good foot and a half shorter than Calvin. Her wrinkles sag from her chin, looking like flappy leather. Calvin rambles in Spanish, with him and Grandma both looking at me. Why hadn’t I taken the time to learn Spanish?
Grandma goes into my face and starts spitting into it. I stumble backward in horror. “Calvin, what is she doing?”
“She is cursing you.”
Grandma grabs my head with amazing strength and starts finger painting in the spit across my eyebrows. Her eyes are swallowed in her face as she rattles an incantation through a tone of pure anger. Then without warning, Grandma kisses my cheeks, and her rotten breath assaults my eyes. Grandma smiles and shuffles out of the room.
“That was a pretty intense spell Grandma cast on you. I would take her warning and not get your eyebrows tattooed.”
I grab a towel out of the hall closet, wipe off all of Grandma’s wet gifts, and then throw the towel into Calvin’s face. “Just wait and see. This Tick Tock will boost my followers to a million.”
“No one wants to see you get your eyebrows tattooed.”
***
I lay back on the bench, with my friend Mary standing above me as she looks at her phone. The smell of incense overpowers the atmosphere and gives me a slight headache.
“Are you recording?”
“No. I am going to wait until the tattoo artist comes in.”
“No. You need to start now so I can introduce my video.”
Mary’s thumb slides across the screen, and I can tell she is watching Tik Tock. “Mary, focus on me. This is all about me.”
“Chill, Dorotea.” Mary points her phone at me.
“Hi, my faithful fans. This is me, Dorotea Martinez live. Wait, Mary, is this on live?”
“Yes.”
“I am going to do it. I am going to get my eyebrows permanently tattooed, so I can have excellence every moment of the day.” My fingers drum on the paper lining on the bench, crinkling to the beat.
The door opens, and Mary jumps. Rod, my tattoo artist, walks in.
“Point the camera at him.” My voice comes out like the snarl of a rabid dog. I don’t mean to be so short with Mary, but Mary has made a horrible videographer so far. Mary swings around, and Rod rolls his eyes at having the camera on him. He looks like one of those no-nonsense masculine men. You know, the type who rides in a biker gang.
Rod drags a chair across the tile, and it shrieks on the ground like nails scraping a chalkboard. I cover my ears. He casually plops next to me and gets super close.
“Obviously, I am a huge fan of tattoos. That is what I do for a living. Every tattoo I do is my creation left on the lifetime of the canvas. I never want to create something that someone is going to regret. So I always make sure you are 100% dedicated to the tattoo I am about to do. If you are only 75%, I won’t do it. 99%. I won’t do it. I want you to want this tattoo for life. It’s not like a bad marriage. You can’t divorce this tattoo.” The man’s breath smells of moldy cheese. I turn away. “Hmmm, I take that as a sign of non-commitment.”
I remember my followers are watching this. I don’t want the tattoo artist to think I am weak or my fans. If I say what I am really thinking, I will get more likes.
“I am sorry. I turned away because your breath stinks.” I am usually not this rude, and I feel my face flush. A strange look passes over Rod’s face, and I am sure I have offended him. I don’t know him well enough to guess what he is thinking.
Finally, he speaks. I can’t tell if he is smiling or grimacing. “So, are you 100% committed to tattooing on your eyebrows?” He shows me the transfers he has made.
“Hold them up to my face,” I say.
He does, and I look into the mirror across the room. I really can’t tell what they will look like, but I can imagine them. They are the perfect eyebrows, pirated from a picture of Helen Shfaun, the model for Pop Makeup. Helen is gorgeous, and I know her eyebrows will make me just as pretty. If not more!
After I commit, Rod sets to work, and I experience the worst pain of my life. I have to look tuff and strong in front of my followers. I try to make the most natural face ever, but inside, I am screaming, a raging lunatic. At times, it feels as if Rod is piercing the same spot over and over and over. I want to scream at him, grab the tattoo gun, and chuck it across the room.
Finally, after what feels like ten thousand years, he is done. As I am still lying, he hands me a mirror. And there they are! Helen Shfaun’s eyebrows on my face. They make perfect arches and span across my forehead in splendid beauty. They are gorgeous and so realistic looking. I had really worried that Rod would mess up and I would be stuck with a mistake for the rest of my life, but they are better than I imagined. Despite the red, irritated skin around them, I love them.
I sit up and smile for Mary, then scream!
“Mary, why are you playing?”
What has she done to her face?
“What do you mean?”
“Where are your eyebrows?”
“Eyebrows? What do you mean?”
“Don’t kid with me. Are you wearing latex to cover your eyebrows? Ha-ha, is this to increase the likes of my Tik Tok? Ha-ha. You really got me.”
Mary looks ridiculous without eyebrows. “Funny joke.”
Rod looks at Mary, then at me. “I don’t get it?”
I scream again and sit back away from the two. Now Rod doesn’t have eyebrows. Wow, they are going out for this joke. This can’t be Mary’s idea. This must be Rod’s. He must have his own Tik Tok followers and is punking me. Yet, they both seem as legit as can be.
“I don’t know what you are doing, but it’s weird,” Mary says.
“What I am doing! What are you doing?”
The front door opens, and a mother and daughter walk in. Neither of them has eyebrows.
“Seriously, what is going on?”
The mother walks over. “We are here for our two-clock appointment.” She turns to me, and her face scrunches. “Woman, what did you do to your face?” Her finger reaches out and runs along my new eyebrows.
“They are Helen Shfaun eyebrows. The real question is, what did you do to your eyebrows?”
“What are eyebrows?”
I jump up. “Ha, ha, ha. Funny joke. Really funny.” I drop a wad of cash on the bench. “But, I am done with it.” I clench my teeth to keep from swearing as I dash out of the tattoo shop.
Calvin is behind this sick joke. I know it. He has always hated my drawn-on eyebrows. This is his last chance to jab at me for getting my eyebrows tattooed on. How much did he pay everyone to act like this? There is no way that all those people shaved their eyebrows for my joke.
As I get on the train, I stumble when I look at everyone on it. No one. And I mean, no one has eyebrows. Every face is smooth and hairless. There is no way Calvin is behind this. I cling onto a bar as my hand slides in something slimy like Vaseline. As I wipe it on my pants, I realize no one knew I would ride the train. I was supposed to go home with Mary but was too mad at her. Almost everyone on the train stares at my eyebrows and points to them. I had expected people to react to my eyebrows, but positively. Everyone looks at me like I have zombie flesh hanging from my face. I look down in shame as the train sways my body everywhere, making it hard to stand. I wish someone would give me a seat so I could bury my face in my lap and hide.
It takes me over an hour to get home, and I pass several hundred people, none with eyebrows. I storm into the house, push past Grandma, who by the way, has no eyebrows, and throw Calvin’s door open. It is slamming against the wall.
“What have you done?” I demand.
“What have you done?” He looks at me in horror. “What is on your face?” He walks around a pile of filthy clothes on his floor, which stinks like farts, and leans his body into me.
“You know very well what is on my face. Why did you do this? How did you do this?”
Calvin smiles. “Ah, so it worked.”
“What worked?”
“Grandma’s curse. I told her you were getting too vain, and Satan has claimed your soul as his own, and that you needed her to save your soul. This is all Grandma.”
“But how she didn’t even know I was getting my eyebrows tattooed?”
There had to be a better answer than this. Something that would explain this whole ugly situation and return the eyebrows to everyone. If no one had eyebrows, then I would live as a freak for the rest of my life in this stupid reality show.
“True, but she put a curse on you that you would get what you needed to chase the spirit of Satan out of you.”
“I don’t have the spirit of Satan in me,” I whine.
Calvin laughs. “Not anymore.”
“So, what did the curse do? Erase the entire world’s eyebrows. There is no way she could do that.”
Calvin rubbed his chin. “I believe she sent us to an alternate universe. One in which people never had eyebrows.” Calvin flips on the TV. Cory, the newscaster for JJR smiles at the camera, and I immediately notice his big bushy eyebrows are gone.
I look in the mirror. “Calvin, these are the most beautiful eyebrows in the world—”
“The only eyebrows in the world,” he laughs. I hit him. “But, in this world, they will only make me look like a freak.”
“Well, then Grandma’s curse worked. There is no way you can ever return to vanity. Not with two big weird brown things above your eyes.” Calvin studied me, then laughed.
“It sucks to be you.”
________________________________________
Freaky Eyebrow
by Stephanie Daich
