ONCE I GOT home, I marched upstairs and started in on my homework. We had a mandatory assignment on the proper way to apply makeup. I never knew lip liner was so important.

A few minutes later, there was a knock. "Siobhan? May I come in?"

I waited a second, then opened the door. He'd only unlock it if I didn't.

He took a seat on the couch. "So. How was school?"

"Well, I haven't been cut yet, so here's hoping you bet on me in for at least week." I crossed my fingers for emphasis.

"I shouldn't have said that," he muttered. "That was mean."

"Oh, I don't know. I think everything's been mean lately. Par for the course." I went back to reading.

He sat quiet for a while. "You think you're punishing me, but you're only punishing yourself."

I snorted and flipped a page.

He crossed his ankle over his knee and stretched out his arms. "Do you remember your fifteenth birthday?"

I ignored him.

"Do you remember how I came for you when nobody else did?"

I glanced up. "Alex, that's not fair."

"I think it is ." He shrugged. "I was the only one for you then, and as far as I can tell, I'm the only one who's ever been there for you."

"So? My family sucks. We both know that." I went back to pretending to read.

"Why do you keep pushing me away?" He dropped the leg and leaned forward. "What have I done to make you stop trusting me?"

I closed the book. Clearly, we were going there. "Why didn't you front me the money for Notre Dame?"

His mouth thinned. "Because we're in a relationship."

"So? I can be with you in a relationship and still go to school there."

"I want to be here. I want you with me." He sighed. "It's not abusive for me to want you here. I mean, Siobhan, if we're going to use my money, then I have a say on where we spend it."

I went back to pretending to read.

"Oh. So you're going to pout," he sneered. "Siobhan, you're being spoiled. Everything I do, I do for you, but all you see is me acting like a jailer, and I'll be honest, I'm getting tired of it."

"You are a jailer!" I exclaimed. "You lock me up!"

"Yeah, well, you blew up a building!" He crossed his arms and scowled. "Siobhan, I think you shot people... do you know how much money I'm spending to keep you out of prison? I am not the enemy here."

"Then why are you acting like it?"

"I'm not. You're the one treating me like one." He shook his head. "I'm starting to think that you're not ready for this. Maybe you should withdrawal until you're in a better place emotionally."

I should have expected this. I was such an idiot. "You're going to take this away from me, too,  aren't you? Along with everything else."

He sat back, a surprised expression on his face. "What? Is that what you think? That I take things away from you?"

"Yes. Don't you?"

He looked askance. "Look around you. I give you everything. How can you think I take things away from you?"

I squeezed my book to my chest. "You tell me to go to school. You tell me who my friends are. You tell me what kind of job I should have, what I should do with my time, what I should wear, for God's sake!" I stood up and started to pace. "You're taking away my freedom to choose!"

His expression darkened. "That's because your behavior is erratic. My God, Siobhan, don't you understand what you did - "

"Do you not understand why?" I faced him, eye to eye. "Alex, my friend was in trouble. I asked you for help, and you refused by doing nothing. I had to do something, or she would have been sold. Like... like.. like me." My voice cracked. "I'm not sorry. Go ahead, save your money, call the police, I don't care."

"I'm sorry you found out about that." He looked down, his face red. "I should have known it would negatively impact you - "

"Negatively impact me? Alex, my brothers sold me." I sat back down. "And you treat me like it."

"I do not," he growled. "I treat you so, so well. I don't take your choices away, Siobhan...there are other schools in the area, but Columbia is clearly the superior choice - "

"It's not about Columbia!" I yelled and slammed my fist on the armrest. "It's about the fact it's not mine! I had my life, my education, my money, but then poof! It's gone, and now I have to be... Ameliaesque or something, and not me! Why can't it just be me?"

"It is just you." He rubbed his face and groaned. "All I want you to be happy."

"I want that, too!"

We sat, staring at each other. Alex broke away first. "Well, let me ask you this. Is TransGlobal making you happy?"

I picked up my notebook and flipped through it. "I don't know yet. I mean, the people are so...sweet. They're all so excited about being in New York and this opportunity... except Jorge. He's miserable. Chelsea's a bitch, too. Then there's Frances... the point is, it might be. I'd like a chance to see."

I felt him studying me. "Okay. That's fair. Stay in the program. See if you still like it. If you do, then it's fine, I suppose. Whatever you want, Siobhan." He stood up. "I'm making dinner, if you want something to eat."

On cue, my stomach growled. "Maybe. I don't know. What are you making?"

A smile played on his lips. "Mussels in a white wine sauce. Crusty bread. Pomme frittes."

"That sounds good. Is there dessert?"

"I was thinking Creme Brulee."

I dropped my book. "All right. Stop it. You win."

He held out his hand. I stared at a moment, then took it.

He pulled me into a bear hug. "I love you, baby. Always remember that, Siobhan. It's always you."

He smelled like musk and Kenzo. I closed my eyes and buried my face in his chest. So maybe I wasn't as mad as I was.

The next day, after Alex dropped me off at the training center, Frances drifted into the classroom, carrying a mongo Starbucks and wearing a sour expression on her face. She plopped down and looked at me. "This sucks."

"Good morning, Sunshine. What sucks?" I cheesed at her like a goof. I was so sexed up and happy that everything made me grin.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm rooming with Valentina and Chelsea."

"Who's Valentina and Chelsea?" I asked.

"Valentina's the Argentine. Sitting next to you."

I turned. The Argentine was deep in conversation with Jorge the Spaniard. "Oh, yeah!"

Frances pointed with her glasses at the Texan blonde. "That's Chelsea. Miss Buttfuckegypt."

I choked on my coffee. "You're rooming with Miss Buttfuckegypt?" I pointed at her and laughed. "I can't...I can't...You and Buttfuckegypt."

Frances stared at me. "Bitch."

I laughed harder. "It's just perfect. So perfect. All you need is a laugh track!"

"I only want to know one thing," she fumed. "Why is it that the rest of us are forced to cohabitate with strangers when you get to stay with your boyfriend?"

I shrugged and grinned. "My fiance plays golf with the CEO."

Frances glared. "Bitch."

"Jealous, party of one." I snapped my fingers and pointed at her.

The sound of clapping interrupted my witty comeback. Today's instructor was Helena, the beautiful black women from my interview. She stood in front of the room, not a hair out of place or a fleck of lint on her uniform.

"Good morning, everyone!" she cheered in her posh British accent. "Today is make over day."

Everybody cheered. Frances and I looked at other, shrugged, and cheered.

"You'll be learning TransGlobal's grooming standards and the personal style expected from all TransGlobal Flight Attendants!"

We all cheered again and then headed towards the TransGlobal Beauty and Grooming facility, or should I say TransGlobal day spa and salon, because the room was pimped out like a day spa and salon.

Rows and rows of mirrors with salon style chairs and make up displays as far as the eye can see. Spa music played quietly over the sound system, flattering lighting flattered everyone, and there was even a soothing water fountain on the far wall.

I was impressed. It was very chichi.

Each mirror had a name written on it with a wax crayon; Frances and I were sitting next to each other at the end of a row. As I sat down, a pleasant looking blonde guy came up to me.

"You're Siobhan?" he asked, pronouncing my name correctly.

"I am."

"I'm Fred. I'll be teaching you the TransGlobal bun."

I sat back in the chair and smiled at him. "Teach away, Fred. Teach away."

"Well, aren't you Miss Personality," he said as he ran his hand through my hair. "You've also got serious hair. Gorgeous, gorgeous hair. What do you use?"

I waved my hand. "I don't know. Something my sister-in-law's stylist sent me home with the last time I got my hair cut."

"Who's your sister-in-law's stylist?" he asked.

"Some funky name...Sally or Susie Hershberger, barger, something like that." I yawned. "I suck at names."

He gave me this funny look. "Who does your hair there?"

"I told you. The chick with the funky name." I glanced at him in the mirror. "Why?"

"Because the chick with the funky name charges $600 a haircut." He ran his hands through my hair. "So you're a rich girl."

I whistled. "I didn't know it was that much. My fiance pays for it."

"Of course he does, princess," murmured the dude with his hands in my hair. "Okay, so this is the style." He showed me a Mason Pearson boar bristle hairbrush. "You're going to pull your hair back and smooth it down like so until it shines." He demonstrated this. "Then you're going to wind it into a ponytail in the back." This he also demonstrated. "Finally, you're going to take this blue scrunchy here - " he opened it from its plastic bag and showed it to me "- and you're going to wrap it around the bun like so."

I looked at me. I had a bun with a scrunchy around it. Seemed easy enough. He took it out and handed it to me. "Now you do it."

"Okeydokey." I brushed my hair back, wrapped it in a bun, and stuck the scrunchy around. "How's that?"

"Looks good to me." H wrote something down on a piece of paper and handed it to me. "Now, you own one of these brushes, right?"

"Yeah, several, I think." I looked at him. "Why?"

"They're a required purchase," he answered. "Bring one with you to training tomorrow. Now head on off to makeup." He pointed to a door in the back.

"Wait," I said and held the brush up, "everyone has to buy these?"

"Yes."

"But they go for like $100 - $150 bucks!"

He nodded. "I know."

"But that's expensive for some people!" I slid out of the chair and handed him back the brush. "If the Company's requiring this brush for grooming, then the Company should provide it!"

He touched my arm and said under his breath, "Take my advice. Do what you're told without question, or they will kick you out."

"What, you either buy the brush, or you get kicked out?"

He nodded.

"What does that have to do with your ability to be a flight attendant?"

"I have no idea. Just do it." He smiled dismissively at me and pointed to the next station. I wandered over.

There an older woman took my paper from me as she studied me thoroughly. Then she told me to buy a bunch of Clarins crap, and finished up by giving me a red lipstick.

"You're to wear this shade all the time you're on site," she told me and wrote a check on my paper. "Bring all these items to class with you tomorrow morning."

I read what she had written. "What! But this is going to cost hundreds of dollars!"

She looked at me, apathetic. "Figure it out." She looked over my shoulder. "Next!"

I left the room, deep in thought. This was a lot to spend on cosmetics, even for me, and I'm not hurting financially.

I turned the corner and ran smack dab into two of my classmates. "Whoops!" I exclaimed. "Sorr...are you guys okay?"

They both wiped their eyes and looked down. Maybe they were surprised I was talking to them. Miss ButtfuckEygpt had made sure everyone in class knew about Frances and me, so people didn't really interact with us. I was surprised at how lesbianphobic people were, considering that every man here was gay.

Nevertheless, I put on a friendly smile. "That's something about the make up, right? Clarins is pricey - "

"We can't afford this!" the one on the right interrupted.

"I know," I agreed. "It's ridiculous. Why the hell anybody would spend $30 on lipstick is beyond me."

She gave me a dirty look. "That's not what I meant. It took all my savings to get out here, and the cost of uniforms, room, board, everything here is being deducted from our first couple of checks. We won't get paid until we've been at work th-th-three months... " She started to sob. Her friend put her arm around her.

I raised an eyebrow at that. I probably should have paid more attention when they explained pay and benefits.

"We're all living off savings as it is, and now we have to buy all this...I can't do it," her friend continued. "We're going to have to go home."

"W-we all are." The crying girl sobbed harder.

My first thought was, how much do you have in savings that this would wipe you out? My second thought was, oh. My third thought was that this was bullshit. People should be dismissed because they lack merit, not because they can't afford a required $150 hairbrush.

"What happens if you don't buy these things?" I asked. "Maybe if you explained your circumstances, they would work with you to find a more reasonably priced alternative."

"We tried," the first girl replied. "It's a subordination thing. We buy what they tell us to buy, or we're being insubordinate."

"We might as well leave now," her friend muttered. "No reason to waste any time." She forced a smile. "They're not even paying our way back home."

That was it. The straw that broke the camel's proverbial back. "Is everyone in the same boat?"

"Most of us," she nodded. "There are a few that are okay, but I think most of us are going home tomorrow."

It came to me what I needed to do. "Finish out the day. You never know what can happen." I threw up my hands."This is New York. The city of miracles."

_____ * _____ * _____ * _____ * _____

So, Siobhan makes up with Alex... for now. But training just got intense and Siobhan's got something up her sleeve... or in her makeup bag.

Thank you so much for taking time to read Siobhan's story! I look forward to your comments, and if you liked it, please remember to vote!

©Copyright Liz Charnes May 2018

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