Protected

Angel

We were upstairs, in the biggest bathroom. Random beauty paraphernalia was scattered across the white counter top. Ava was in the living room, being quiet and watching Little Einsteins. 

Her makeup. Was. A. Masterpiece.

I made her sit as still as a statue while I buffed and slathered and polished and brushed and generally beautified her face. Josh ducked in after a few minutes with his Canon camera and took a few candids of Riley getting her makeup on, then ducked back out.

When she was done, it was amazing.

I had filled in her eyebrows, and worked miracles on her skin. Somehow, I had managed to put concealer and foundation and highlighter on without making it look like she had any makeup on at all. It was a miracle. Seriously, I'm like a god.

Then, for her eyes, I put on a super light dusting of light pink eyeshadow, and a lot of eyeliner to make her eyes stand out. She was wearing a lot of mascara, and I had made her sit with two metal eyelash curler torture devices of death clamped around her eyelashes for ten minutes while I finished the rest of her makeup.

I did it really simple on her lips, just some light pink matte lipstick and some clear gloss. She looked like an angel. Even more than usual.

By then, it was eight o'clock, and I had to start on her hair.

Riley wanted something simple, so I gave her simple. It took several hours of Pinterest surfing, but I found the perfect hair style. 

Basically, it was half up, half down. The part that was down was rigorously curled (The poor curler,) and the part that was up had flowers woven intricately into the whole thing.

When I finished, I told her to open her eyes. She opened them, and such a look of shock and happiness overtook her face. She went to touch her lips, but I batted her hand away.

"No touch," I said, "Your lipstick is for Farkle to ruin, not you."

She smiled and made eye contact with me in the mirror.

"It's amazing, Maya," she said.

"It was nothing," I said.

She pursed her lips, and we laughed.

"You look beautiful," I said, "More than usual."

She smiled, and her eyes started to fill with happy tears. I quickly tossed a lace napkin to her.

"Don't you dare mess up my perfect eyeliner," I said threateningly.

She dabbed at her eyes, "Okay, I'm fine."

"Now, I have to do my hair and makeup," I said, "Go sit on your bed, watch Mamma Mia!, I recorded it for you last night, and take an Ibuprofen. I know you get headaches when you're nervous."

She looked at me gratefully, "You know me so well," she said.

I rolled my eyes and shooed her away, "Go, go," I said. She hurried out of the room, and I heard the TV flick on and the familiar Mamma Mia! soundtrack kick on.

I wasn't going to spend that long on my hair and makeup, or do anything big. This was Riley's day to shine.

I curled my hair, very lightly, so it was just wavy. I put on some eyeliner, slathered concealer on my face, and put some nude lipstick on. When I was done, I just looked pretty. I went from sort of attractive to pretty, and I was okay with that, because I had made sure to make Riley go from angel to Goddess.

I was a miracle worker.