The next day, we headed over to my other grandparents' house for dinner. Grandpa Dombrowski opened the door and his face brightened as soon as he saw me. "How's my girl? Well, how's my supermodel writer, I should say." Grandpa always made me feel like I was his favorite person on earth.
"Bernie, let them in the house," Grandma said. "They'll catch their death standing on the porch. Get in here. Come, come."
Mom went over to her as Grandpa took my coat. "I hope you're hungry," Grandma said. "We're ready to eat."
"Do you need help with anything, Ma?" Mom asked.
"You don't know what you're doing in my kitchen," Grandma said, waving her off. "It's easier if I do it all. Go sit."
We sat in the bright yellow dining room. Grandma had ham, sausage, mashed potatoes, rolls, cucumber salad, regular salad, some weird-looking dish with beets in it, scalloped potatoes, and rye bread on the table. Now that was what I called "yummers town."
"Oh, it smells amazing," Dad said, taking some sausage.
We filled our plates, and for every spoonful I took, Grandma somehow managed to sneak an extra helping onto my plate. Everything tasted delicious. The potatoes were so creamy and had this amazing savory flavor to them. She would never tell us what any of her "secret ingredients" were, but man, nothing tasted like my grandma's mashed potatoes. I felt like I was going to explode when I was done.
"Ready for dessert?" Grandma asked.
"Can we have a breather first, Ma?" Mom asked.
"Okay, well, I'll clear the table."
Grandpa started to get up to help, but I said I'd do it. I followed Grandma into the kitchen while my parents and he talked about the weather.
"Glad to see you still have your appetite," Grandma said. "I worry about you modeling."
I shrugged. "I don't work much," I said.
She asked how school was, and I told her what she wanted to hear. "Um, Grandma? Do you still make potato pancakes?"
"I sure do. We had some the other night. I have leftovers. Do you want some?"
If I hadn't been about to burst, I probably would have said yes.
"Maybe later, but…are they hard to make?"
"For your mother, apparently," she said. "Well, you have to grate the potato, and I don't want you to scrape your hand off, but I might be able to teach you an easier way to make them. Maybe next time you visit?"
I nodded.
"Missing my cooking?"
"Yeah, and this…friend of mine loves them," I said.
"Friend? As in a boy?"
How did she know that? I nodded.
"Well, maybe next time we'll work on those, but you spend more time on your studies and less time on the boys, okay?" she said. Did all grandmothers have a thing about not wanting their granddaughters to date?
After dessert, we opened presents. I only had one thing to unwrap. Grandma told me she got me money and a gift card so we wouldn't have to struggle with a lot of extra stuff on the train ride home. I was excited; the gift card was for a bookstore. That gave me fifty dollars to spend on books. The present was a blue school sweater. I didn't like being reminded of school, but at least it was a pretty light shade of blue, considering that my Hillcrest school uniform colors made me look like a dead goldfish on a good day.
We watched a Christmas movie, and I talked to Grandpa about school. Dad said we had to head back, but I wanted to stay. Mom said next time we came to town, we could make it a longer visit. She had a project at work, which meant we couldn't spend as much time in Chicago this holiday. I bit my lip wondering if that "project" had anything to do with the possible move she was telling me about on the train. We couldn't move with things finally feeling settled for me — well, more settled anyway — at school with my friends. Plus I had modeling work in Grand Rapids, and there was Vladi, too. I finally felt like I belonged, and she wanted me to leave all that behind?
I didn't say much on the ride back to the apartment.
Mom touched my shoulder. "I know you wanted to stay, but next time. Promise."
I shrugged. "You always say, 'next time.' It seems like we're always rushing home or Dad's rushing back here."
"I know, but we have to leave tomorrow, and I want to make sure we have plenty of time to get ready."
"I hardly got to see the downtown all decorated for Christmas," I said.
"We did cut it short yesterday," Dad said.
Mom glanced at her watch. "I guess there's still time for us to hit a store if you want to see how Maxie's decorated the tree this year…"
"Yes! I heard this year it's a toy theme," I said.
We headed to Maxie's department store, but everyone in all of Illinois had the same idea. There was a group of people pushing to get closer to the big tree. I started to feel a little claustrophobic as I got elbowed in the side.
"This is germ central," Dad, always the doctor, said, wringing his hands. "Crowds are not sanitary."
"Okay, well, let's look around," Mom said, and I suggested we see the toy department. Big mistake. There were more people there, returning Christmas presents and using their gift money. Mom sighed.
"Can I go to the Little Rose cosmetics counter?" I asked. "Our counter at home is always sold out of stuff."
She nodded and went with Dad to listen to the piano player in the middle of the store.
In the cosmetics section, there was a huge ad with the new Little Rose model, who was also a former Ingénue model, sitting on the beach with gleamy, flawless skin and glossy lips. The model's name was Jem Jade Juliette, and they were calling her the "New Talisa Milan" in all the magazines. I thought that was kind of weird, because it seemed like it meant Talisa should move aside for her or something. Jem seemed cool in her TV interviews, though. I went to the Little Rose cosmetics counter and asked for the Taupe on a Rope lip gloss Talisa was wearing on the cover of Young and Fun magazine. The salesperson asked if it was for me, and I nodded.
"It's more of a color for someone with Winter Pansy coloring," she said. "And your coloring is Spring Daffodil. You might like Tink's Wink instead. It would be better for your fair complexion. More of a light rosy shade, whereas the taupe one is meant for someone with an olive skin tone."
I hated the way makeup people said "fair" as if it were a dirty word, so I asked how much the glosses were.
"Fourteen dollars."
If I bought them both, then I'd spend most of the money I had saved up. I bit my lip.
"I'll take them both."
"If you spend just two dollars more, you can get the free gift," she said.
I felt embarrassed as I asked for the cheapest item they sold. She said it was the nail enamel. Why didn't they just say "nail polish"? I asked how much it was, and it was twelve bucks.
"The gift is a free makeup bag with blush, eye shadow, and a brow pencil."
It was the same blush shade Talisa wore in the article about her. Sold.
I texted my mom I was going to the bathroom and went to the restroom to put the gloss on. It made me look dead. Mom came into the bathroom.
"Landry, I — " She stopped, inhaled, and put the back of her hand against my forehead. "You feel okay, babes?"
"I'm fine. I think it's the new lip gloss. It kinda sucks all of the color out of my face."
She stepped back. "Yeah, not your shade. Maybe if you used a lip liner or a lipstick underneath it."
"Maybe, but Talisa didn't need a lip liner with it. She just put a dab of it on and was the picture of perfection. Of course, she also has flawless olive skin and gorgeous dark hair."
"I felt the same way when I was a kid," Mom said. "I always wanted the opposite of what I had, too, but one day you'll appreciate your own skin and hair color. It's just a phase you're going through."
I hated when she said something was just "a phase" for me, but then again, Talisa did say in a magazine she grew up wanting to have a peaches-and-cream complexion, so maybe Mom was right that nobody appreciates what they have when they're younger.
"Doesn't Little Rose Cosmetics have a good return policy?" Mom asked. "We could go back, and you could exchange it."
I stared at my washed-out complexion in the mirror. The lip gloss almost made my mouth disappear. Why couldn't I look like Talisa or the girls at school who didn't even need lipstick or gloss? Why couldn't I look like anybody but me?