Volume 1: Twelve Years Was A Long Time (2)

CHAPTER TWO: A VISIT AND A FASHION MIRACLE

“Nothing makes a woman more beautiful than the belief that she is beautiful”

Previously…

 

I stirred into my semi-consciousness and realized the heavy pounding was coming from my door.

I sighed, grudgingly getting up from my bed and sluggishly reached the door. It could be Brenda crying over to me like any other morning when she finds out that every love-of-her-life had left her the next day.

“Just a sec.” I croaked and opened the door.

 I yawned loudly, my hand covering my mouth as I focused my blurry-eyed gaze at the tall, lean and handsome figure outside my door.

 “Geez, Bren. You know you could’ve just used your own key.” I grumbled.

 I frowned, still disoriented from the traces of sleep in my mind.

 Wait, Brenda wasn’t tall, neither was she ever so muscularly lean nor have masculine features. She doesn’t even wear black in all of her life. She was shorter than me, curvy all the way and has cute pixie-like features that go with her bright girly clothes.  And most importantly, Brenda doesn’t knock. Ever. She had her own key for my place for Christ’s sake.

 

“You’re not Brenda.”

  

And Now…

 

“You’re not Brenda.” I deadpanned.

 “No, I’m most certainly am not.” The man briefly looked at both of his sides before he chuckled and gave me bright smile.

Gah! So blinding in the morning. I think my eyes would melt from the brightness. He stood in his bright glory at six and a few inches tall, his face chiseled and carefully carved to perfection. His hair like flowing locks of shiny gold pastures under the sun, so lush tumbling down until his shoulders. His eyes twinkle, sparkling vivid green eyes of wonder. He was lean but muscular. And his smile? His smile was dazzling like the pearls glimmering in value. 

And I’m still too disoriented to observe further. 

“Okay, so if you’re not Brenda and I’m assuming you’re not a new neighbor from the way you dress yourself, I doubt you’re even the delivery guy. So what are you doing outside my door at this time in the morning? Did you get lost from a New York photo shoot or something?” I grilled with narrowed eyes. 

Huh, don’t think I would be so stupid to go along with your easy smile and your dreamy eyes. In case you don’t know, I’m not a morning person. Plus, I’m not afraid to bring out some attitude with me along with a little roundhouse kick if it means getting him out. The only person who can get away from it was my mom and Brenda.

 “Whoa! Easy there, little wolf. I don’t mean you any harm.” He raised his hands in surrender, throwing me another bright smile. I recognized a posh accent there. British. 

I threw him a look.

Who was he calling ‘little wolf’? I waited for a second. Was that it? Wasn’t he gonna say something. I threw him a raised brow look. He just smiled. 

“Okay, then. Get lost. Do let the door hit you on the face.” I gave him a cold look, banging the door shut. 

He made an alarmed expression. I ignored it and listened for the door to hit on the frame when I realized it didn’t close. His foot was stuck to the door.

 “Look, obviously you value your life. I, too, respect life. So I suggest that you please bother someone with your time. Besides, with your face you could probably bother any other girl aside from me. So, please, leave?” 

He didn’t react at first, stupidly smiling like on a high. Makes me want to wonder from whether he belongs on a ramp in Paris or in a softly-padded room in a mental institution. Seriously, am I being punked right now?

Ugh, I don’t even have the time for this. 

I made another move for the door when he had finally decided to answer me. 

“Actually, your father sent me.” That was all he said.

 

I gave him a withering look. For all the warnings I’ve said, that was all he would say?

Your father sent me…. Your father sent me… Your father sent me….

My father sent him? I looked him up from head to toe. He doesn’t look like a driver. More like the master of the driver. 

“And why should I believe you?”

Who knows he could be an assassin or a kidnapper. Does he even know I’m close to destitution? From his style of clothing, he could pass as one of my schoolmates with their designer clothes and thousand-dollar haircuts. Probably someone put him up to this as a prank. 

“Because he won’t stop whining and moping around until one of us actually does what he wants us to do which of course involves arranging the place and making sure you’d get there.” He politely explained in a soft, gentle tone. 

Okay, I take it back. He can talk without pausing for air.  But that doesn’t mean his explanation was plausible. I mean, whining and moping? That doesn’t sound like the man I hardly remembered.

 Blondie - yeah, I know. Real original.  Still, I decided to call him that, what with his blonde hair, sparkling green eyes and thousand mega-watt smiles - chuckled lightly. I turned to watch him stare at me again with amusement on his face.

 “I’m James, by the way.” He offered his hand for me to shake.

 Or maybe not.

 “Alyce. “ I grunted.

 “Cute name. From the Alice in ‘Wonderland, I presume?”

 “Y-yeah,” I stuttered, taken aback. “How did you know that?”

 “Let’s just say, I once knew a girl who stumbled in a certain place and met interesting people.” His tone had a touch of wistfulness laced in.

 Now that I look closely into his eyes, I saw a semblance of familiarity. Somehow, I -

 Forget it. Thinking hurts when my brain could hardly function enough on my Locomotors skills.

 “Yeah, that was the look on our faces when he did that. But, knowing Frost, he’s as unpredictable as you can get. And I’m guessing, you’d probably shut the door on my face anyway and get back to sleep. Unless,” he brought out his hand and I was surprised to see an IHOP bag dangling in it. “You get your pancakes or so what Frost told me.” 

He coughed and cleared his throat.

“Come on, smell the pretty pancakes. You know you want it. You could have it if you let me in.” He drawled in a falsetto voice, talking to me as if I was a child.

He leveled the bag to my face, letting me smell the wonderful and oh-so-heavenly aroma of cake, butter and maple. I almost moaned.

My eyes followed the bag’s movements as it was being dangled in front of me.

 I saw him widen his smile. I looked away. There was no way he could trick me into pulling a childish trick like that. It almost made him look like a creepy pedophile parents warn their children in the park.

I peeked at his smiling face. Well, almost.

 “You forgot the coffee.”

 “No, I didn’t.” Quick as lightning, he held out a two-cup container of Starbucks. “I figured, coming out this early, you’d need it. It was my idea though I didn’t know what flavor you preferred.” He sheepishly smiled.

I nodded in amazement. “It’s okay. Any flavor’s good as long as it is coffee.” 

 We both nodded this time. A second went by and finally I snapped back. I sighed.

My stomach growled. I felt faint. Okay, what were we standing here for again?

 “Uhm, would you like to come inside?”

I face-palmed myself inwardly . Of course, he would want to get inside. He was waiting for me to let him in.  I flushed at the thought and went in first, not bothering to check if he was following me.

 “You could just put the bags there.” I pointed at the coffee table while he wasted no time placing the bags there.

I sat down on one end of the couch while he sat on the opposite side.

 “You have a, uh, lovely home.” He said, observing my tiny abode.

 “Th-thanks.” I was caught unaware by his compliment.

  It was the first time someone other than Brenda came here so complimenting my apartment was a blatant surprise to me. I was proud of it. I remember when my mom was still with me. We would scour the charity shops across the town and buy furniture we could afford one at a time. For example, the television, the curtains, the tables and the carpet were all chosen by her. When she died, I tried to carry that tradition but since I was still a student and only had a part-time job, I could barely buy a piece of  furniture while trying to fit in with my budget. Although, I did buy some new beddings and some throw-pillows for Pooka. Other than those, it seemed like mom never left the apartment.

 We ate the pancakes and drank our coffee in silence while we both watched the news.  I peeked at him as he gracefully sliced through his pancake and back at the television.

 “I don’t suppose you carry a newspaper around with you?” I asked, trying not to be hung up on the awkward silence.

 “Nah. I use my tablet to confer with the news.”  He took a bite and wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “Why, do you want me to search for something?” he asked, taking out a black case from his messenger bag.

He fished out an iPad and held it in front of me. I eyed it with a glare. Technology and I had a slight misunderstanding with some certain things.

 “How am I supposed to check for prices from the local stores around here from a tablet?” I tactlessly asked.

“I don’t really know.” He shyly replied, his expression apologetic. “I never tried it though. Why? Does it appear on the newspaper?”

 I nodded. “On the local paper, maybe. Some of the stores aren’t exactly up-to-date with the technology or the internet.”

 “Oh, are you planning to buy something?”

 “Just some groceries.” I waved it off, focusing on my pancakes.

 “Really?! You buy your own groceries?” I could see he was shocked by my answer.

 “Yeah. I mean, don’t you?” Of course, you don’t. You’re rich. People like you probably had maids to buy them for you.

 “No,” he shamefully admitted. “But I’d like to.”

 I felt some part of me warm up to him. He wasn’t the prissy rich kid I thought he was.

Now, what was I supposed to say?

And he’s  smiling - again.

 Seriously, all I see from this guy are sunshine and smiles. In fact, now that I look more closely, he looks kind of familiar.

 “So, why did my father send you here?” I asked as we both finished our meal. Am I supposed to let him out now?

 “I have to get you ready before you meet Frost. “ He simply answered. “I suggest you take your shower now before I prep you up.”

“What?!” What did he mean take a shower? What made him think I’ll take a shower with him around?

 He hardly glanced at me as he focused his eyes on the clock. “You’d better do it now. We still have to do your hair and your outfit.”

 Ohhh…. Why didn’t he say so?  Wait a minute! Do my hair and outfit?!

 I gulped as he pushed me toward the bathroom door along with my robe. Pushy much?! I scowled at the door and faced the sink. Do my hair and outfit, what’s wrong with what I look anyway?

I studied myself on the mirror.  My straight white-blonde hair was longer now as it reached past my waist. Normally I keep it short until the top of my shoulders with a side fringe and cut it every month. However, since last year, my schedule had been too hectic that I had always forgotten to trim it. I always use a knitted cap to stuff it all in. Not that I could help it, my hair has a very fast growth pace. Even my fringe had reached the side of my face, more likely covering my eyes. I flicked my hair from my eyes. I stare at the dark bruise-like shadows under my eyes as they dulled down my blue-grey eyes. My face even seemed to look thinner now that I looked properly at my reflection. My pale complexion could almost scare the bejesus out of me.

 My thin frame didn’t seem to help either. I poked at my visible ribs and took a deep breath as they contract against my skin in a prominent fashion. I sighed. I wasn’t a fan of diets or eating with much gusto. I only eat when I had the appetite or when I wasn’t busy making my future sooner than I planned.

I jumped into the scalding hot water and quickly washed myself.  I grabbed a towel from the rack and dried myself off, only remembering that I didn’t have a change of clothes with me.

Sh*t!

I slowly opened the door. I poked my head outside the frame and searched for any sign of James. When I was about to step out, I heard him call me from my bed space.

“Alyce, are you done yet?”

“Y-yeah?” I replied tentatively.

I blushed. How was I supposed to get out of this?

“What are you waiting for? Come out now, we barely have any time to prep you.” He said in a disapproving tone.

“Yeaahh… about that.”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t have any clothes with me.” I cringed, waiting for him to laugh at me or something.

“Check the door knob.” He replied nonchalantly before I heard sounds of cabinets and drawer being opened.

Just what is he doing?

Immediately, I grabbed the clothing bag at the door and closed it. I didn’t bother to check the clothing as I zipped myself up and walk towards the mess James had caused.

I found him near my tiny dresser. Beside him was a fancy-looking kit. The kind that professional make-up artists have in television shows. I turned to my closet. At least my cabinets and drawers were closed without any thing scattered around.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“I was planning to give your hair a little curl and maybe a light make-up to color those cheeks but looking at you now, I see we have a lot of work to do.”

 

For the first time, I saw him put on a serious expression as he pushed me down on a seat and turned me around to face the mirror. I noticed that he also installed a couple of bright fluorescent lights on my dresser.

“Okay, first, let’s start off with your hair.” He paused and made a hesitating attempt to pick a lock of my hair. “What barber shop cut your hair?”

“Ha-ha. That would be me.”

“With a machete? In an earthquake?” he flung a lock on the fair. “Seriously, like did you have to hack it off?”

I rolled my eyes. Excuse me for having been denied the privilege to have my hair cut from a high-end salon.

“At least your hair has good volume. That’s a relief.” He mumbled.

Somehow, I don't think James and I can’t survive this ordeal without me murdering him or him criticizing me.

“But, your fringe!”

“What?” I asked at his appalled tone.

“It’s too long!”

I hung my head in surrender.

“Good thing I have my favorite pair of scissors with me. Now, we can get rid of these horrible split-ends.” James said as he happily snipped at my hair.

I stared at the ground, watching strands of my hair fall to the ground. I hear him plug something and felt an unexpected heat burning the back of my neck.

I flinched from the contact.

“Hey-hey, relax. I was just curling your hair. “

I dropped my shoulders down not letting my guard down.

 I waited for thirty long excruciating minutes before I heard him plug the curler off. I raised my head up only to be blinded again by the lights. I felt James move at my side and something wet rubbed on my face.

“Wha-“

“Tinted moisturizer.” He simply answered.

I didn’t ask any further questions other than to tell him not to heavily put make-up on my face. No way would I have my face cracked up or resemble a birthday cake.

 He swept a brush on my cheeks, adding some pinkish tinted stuff on the hollows of my cheekbones and my jaw. He also added some white stuff on the bags of my eyes. He pried my eyes to open and applied a thin coat of mascara to each eye. As for my lips, he smeared a coral-colored lip gloss on them. He made me pucker up and then made some slight adjustments of my fringe.

“And voila! A fashion miracle!” He proudly exclaimed, mumbling about being the Jesus of fashion or whatever.

I shook my head and stood up only feel a draft on my legs. It was then that I noticed myself wearing a short flowing dress that stopped a few inches just under my mid-thigh. Its blue color was as pale as the sky before dawn with a hint of lilac and the merest of lavender. It was silky and very breathable with a corset-like fit for a bodice and a square cut neckline supported by dainty straps. Over-all it fitted me like it was custom-made.

“Are you sure you got my right size?” I asked, pulling down the skirt and rubbing my bare arms. “Can’t I wear my pants underneath?”

I’ve never exposed myself like this. Not even at my mom’s funeral where I sported tights and a thick sweater on me.

“It’s a dress, not a shirt.” said James, rolling his eyes.

“Are you sure? Somehow, I don’t think this is gonna fit me.”

“Actually with the right shoes …” he trailed off, clearly not listening to me.

He handed me a pair of three-inch heels. He turned to me with a glint in his eyes.

“Nuh-uh. No way. Not gonna happen.” I shook my head fervidly. I eyed the shoes in disdain.

“Yes way.” He replied, adding a mock evil laugh in between.

 He advanced towards me. I backed away until I felt the wall behind me.

He pushed me down again on my chair. I felt him snaking his hand on my feet and putting them on himself.

“Why are you so keen on doing this? And, how do you know all of this stuff, anyways?” I asked after he successfully wrestled the last of the clasps on my feet.

“I’ve always liked fashion and beauty and all things cute and pretty.” He let go of my foot and motioned me to stand up. “I can’t help but to make things more beautiful,” he motioned for me twirl around. I grudgingly obeyed. “More elegant. Strange I know, but somehow over time this fascination turned into a hobby and into a-“

“Dream.” We both finished as I stopped to face the mirror like him.

"I don't even know why you're doing this. It's not like I'll magically turn into a model or something. I'm not even pretty." I mumbled silently.

He stared at me and opened his hand. I eyed the box of contacts and opened them.  Carefully, I slipped them on, observing my vision clearly.

I felt his hands gently coiffing my hair until he managed to tie them together.

“See? You look beautiful.” He breathed. "I should know." 

I shivered at the close proximity and his intense stare at the mirror in front of us. His minty breath tickling my neck.

Curiously, I peered at the person in the mirror. And I gasped.

I couldn’t help but gaze at the person for a moment.  She looked so much different than me - and yet somehow still be me.

Her white-blonde hair was neatly tied in a sleek ponytail with curly ends. Her rosy face was devoid of bags or its pale pallor. She looked less tired. Her cheeks looked more pronounced like the airbrushed models in the magazines and highlighted well with a natural pink blush. She looked more vibrant - more like my old self years ago. Her lips were plump and moist and her eyes… well her eyes were something. The mascara made her thick eyelashes thicker making the blue-grey color of her eyes pop even more. Looking into them now, they looked so serene, so cool and calm like the reflection of the sky on a still-water ocean.

Combining them with her dress, she looked ready for a Teen Vogue photo shoot.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“A smile would suffice.” said James, with a smile on his face.

I smiled back.

Watching the girl in the mirror, she never looked brighter or more beautiful.

Maybe I did need this after all.

Now, I was ready to face my father.