Esperanza was excited and nervous. Excited because the spa’s best colorist was coming to the cottage to tint her hair. Nervous because the police detective would be coming shortly afterward.
The colorist was Jillian’s gift. Esperanza could never have afforded him. She knew that because she had checked the little book in the desk drawer that listed all the services offered at Elysium, along with their prices. Esperanza figured that for the amount of money the Elysium colorist charged, she could dye her hair forty times over with the drugstore brand she usually bought.
Picking up the end of a section of hair, Esperanza looked down at the yellow tips. They were the last vestiges of the color she had used so that she would look more like Jillian. She wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t done that. Maybe she wouldn’t be scarred forever if she’d been satisfied to be herself.
There was a knock at the cottage door. A man carrying a case entered. He smiled as he held out his hand to Esperanza. But she caught the expression of dismay that flashed across his face as he looked at her.
“I’m Carlo,” he said. “Let’s play.”
They decided that bright blond wasn’t the right color for Esperanza. It didn’t work with the color of her skin. But she didn’t want to go back to the jet-black hair she’d inherited from her parents.
“Caramel,” said Carlo. “Not too light, not too dark. A warm, rich caramel color, with just the right highlights, will look wonderful on you.”
An hour and a half later, Carlo held up a mirror for Esperanza to inspect her newly colored, shampooed, and conditioned locks.
“What do you think?” he asked, smiling broadly. “Do you like it?”
Esperanza stared at the image in the mirror, struggling to keep her emotions in check. She’d been hoping that it wouldn’t be so bad, but her disfigurement was hideous. Her face was distorted, covered in bumps, scars, and mottled skin. She couldn’t bear to look at herself.
“It’s very nice,” she said quietly, averting her eyes.
“Very nice?” Carlo asked incredulously. “It looks terrific! That color is great on you.”
“Muchas gracias,” Esperanza whispered.
She couldn’t wait for him to leave. As soon as Carlo packed up his gear and exited the cottage, Esperanza threw herself on the bed, sobbing.
She was absolutely hideous. Not even the best hair color made would change that. How was she going to be able to face the outside world?
Tears dripped from her eyes. Esperanza tried to catch and wipe them away before they seeped beneath her mask, but some were making it through anyway. She had to stop crying and get ahold of herself.
She rose from the bed and walked into the bathroom. Turning on the tap, she cupped cool water in her hands and slowly rinsed her eyes. She was careful to avoid looking in the mirror over the sink.
She reached for a soft white towel from the rack. As she patted gently at her eyes, she heard a sound from the front of the cottage. The detective must have arrived early. It was time to tell him she remembered the peach-colored gloves.
“I’ll be right there,” she called. She was folding the towel when the knob on the bathroom door jiggled.
“I said I’ll be right there,” said Esperanza. “Just take a seat in the living room.”
She hung the towel on the rack, smoothed her hair, straightened up, and took a deep breath before opening the door.