I look forward to my sort-of-monthly visit to Lotus. Tarragh does my pedicure, my single girly secret in my workpants-and-hoodie world. Although I am older than her parents, and wobble when I walk, she still talks to me like I am a real person. The pedicures that used to be an easy luxury for me are now a dear necessity, yet another thing for which I need to ask for help.
Tarragh has a family and a full-time career. Still, she tries on other lives part-time. “Like me, when I was younger,” I think, but never say. I don’t worry that she would be offended by the connection. I just have yet to accept that “when I was younger” is a part of who I am now. Once a week, she becomes a nail technician at this cozy, organic day spa. But unlike me at any age, she is wise beyond her years.
I am very early for my appointment today. Tarragh peeks out from the spa room. I stand in front of the wall of tiny bottles, holding one after another up to my skin. I apologize for interrupting her. “I need time to pick a color” I explain.
Tarragh steps through the doorway and laughs.
“Don’t worry, I understand”. She hands me a familiar inky-blue bottle. “You always want to make sure you know your options. But you almost always choose the same one.”
I have never been doted on like that