Linda Petrucelli

Word Count 451

My husband and I walk past a luxe cosmetics shop, its gleaming doors propped open, on the way to our hotel room when a man dashes out of the glittery shop.

“Come-Come-Come!” He playacts urgency with sweeping gestures and a phony Michael Caine accent.

I feel adventurous on our splurge weekend at Ala Moana in Honolulu and let him take me by the hand. The entire store smells of gardenia. He seats me on a velvet chair while my husband, arms folded across his chest, hovers at a protective distance.

The salesman wears the starched shirt of a pharmacist and looms over me. Squinting, he twitches his nose as if seeing something that concerns him. “I think I can help you,” he says.

“Help me do what?”

He unfolds the accordion arm of a magnifying mirror attached to the wall and positions it directly in front of my face. I look into the round glass for a moment, horrified. Pouchy saddlebags droop under my eyes. Every wrinkle, blemish, and pore are magnified to the tenth power.

“I have a product…” he squeezes a tiny dab of floral-scented cream onto his pinkie.

I shake my head, try to swivel the chair away from him.

But the salesman’s hands move fast. “Just a free sample. There!” He quickly applies a bead of cream under my eyes. “Don’t you wish you looked young again?”

None of my friends ever told me I was showing my age. My husband always told me how great I looked. I had never wanted to dye my hair or erase my crow’s feet, but tonight my eyes are opened. Either I’m going to age naturally or do something about it.

At the hotel, I stand on bare feet, leaning over the sink to get a better look. I’m amazed to see that my undereye pillows, in a feat of reverse aging, have flattened.

“You know honey, this stuff actually works!”

I pull back my pewter mane and turn my head to evaluate my profile. Amazing how just a dab turned back the clock! My upturned palms fill with tepid water under the trickling faucet.

I douse my face and let the water splash down my skin. The velour towel is heaven as I dry my cheeks and breathe the eye cream’s alluring sweetness. Then one more look.

The water has washed off the magic cream and the pillowy creases have returned like a pendulum beneath each eye.

I can’t stop myself from laughing.

In the mirror, an ageless smile lifts my face and brightens my eyes. My husband’s voice calls, “Come to bed,” and I switch off the bathroom light as vestiges of gardenia circle the drain.

—

Linda (she/her) is a writer obsessed with short form fiction and CNF. Her latest essays appear in Minerva Rising, Barren, Gulf Stream Literary Magazine, and Permafrost. She won first place in the WOW! Women on Writing Fall 2018 Flash Fiction Contest and placed runner-up in the Santa Clara Review Fall 2021 Flash Nonfiction Contest. Linda lives on the Big Island of Hawaii where she writes and shares a lanai with one husband and ten cats. http://lindapetrucelli.com

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