AllFreeNovel
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Sylvie rotates on the couch, lying on her belly and elbows, watching me.
When I’m done with the shadows, I pluck out a few possible highlight colors. I swipe some samples on the back of my hand and offer Sylvie a look.
“Which color looks best with my skin tone?”
Her eyes dart back and forth between my face and my hand. “This one,” she says. It’s a bit warmer than I normally go, but that’s okay. I sweep it under my eyes, on my chin, across my forehead, blending as I go.
When I’m done, I turn and let her inspect my work. “What do you think?”
She’s quiet for a moment. “Good.”
I turn and inspect myself in the mirror. “Okay, it’s got the Sylvie stamp of approval. How about some of the fun stuff, then?” I wave her over, and she sits on the floor next to me. “I like a bit of shimmer on my eyelids. And maybe some lip stain. Here, you pick a color for me.”
Most of these colors fit Clara better than me, but it’s not like I’ll be leaving the house.
Sylvie picks a raspberry color for my lips, and I apply it.
I turn to her for inspection and blow her an exaggerated wink and a kiss. She laughs.
“Do you want a turn?”
Sylvie freezes, and the room is quiet save the pop and crackle of the flames.
“If it’s okay with your mom,” I say, glancing back at Juna.
“Yes,” she says quickly.
Sylvie picks up a pallet of eyeshadow and turns it over. “I don’t know how.”
“You never watched any TikTok tutorials or anything?”
She shrugs. “Some.”
“Well,” I say. “I can teach you, or I can do it for you.”
She mulls it over for a moment, and then her answer is so quiet I almost miss it. “Can you do it?” She hands me the eyeshadows.
“Yup.” I tap her knee. “Sit cross-legged, just like me.” She mirrors my pose, and our knees touch. I grab my box of goodies and hoist it over our heads, setting it on the floor next to me since we don’t need the mirror at eye level anymore. I angle the case toward myself.
I start with her eyebrows, not plucking but penciling, making them slightly darker than their natural color and using the pencil to build a bit more shape. I talk the whole time, explaining what I’m doing and why. I make a list in my head of what products I can leave behind for her to experiment with.
Between the performers I followed on Instagram and Heartly, my neighbor’s panicked last-minute calls needing to borrow something for a show that night, and my trans clients, I was a lot more equipped to help Sylvie than her mom or an online video.
Next, I contour with powders, which will be softer than the creams. I bring out curves on her brow line and eyes. On her face, which is square, I put shadows under her cheekbones and use a warm color corrector and concealer to hide her hair and then soften her jawline. I use more shadows and highlights than I did with mine, but I am careful not to overdo it.
“You have great lips,” I tell her. “Very full. You could have inherited your uncle’s, which are much more difficult to work with for a feminine look.”
Sylvie giggles, and Peter responds from his chair. “It would be hard work to make me look feminine.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” I warn him.
Then her eyes. Soft brown on the eyelashes and light natural colors on the eyelids.
“You can open your eyes now.”
Sylvie’s gaze meets mine, and I tap my chin. “What about your hair?”
She runs a self-conscious hand through her hair. It’s long, more brown than blonde, but there’s definitely some dimension to it, but it’s lanky, and without a wash and getting an iron out, there are limited options.
