I am brave. I am brave, courageous, Eleanor Oliphant. “Do whatever you want,” I said.
She looked delighted. “Color too?” I considered this. “Would it be a normal human hair color?
I don’t think I’d like pink or blue or anything like that.
I’ll give you a shoulder-length, lightly layered choppy bob, with caramel and honey pieces woven through and a long sweeping fringe,” she said.
“How does that sound?” “It sounds like an incomprehensible pile of gibberish,” I said.
She laughed at my reflection, and then stopped, perhaps because I wasn’t laughing.
“Trust me, Eleanor,” she said earnestly. “It’ll be beautiful.”
“Beautiful is not a word normally associated with my appearance,” I said, highly skeptical.
She patted my arm. “Just you wait,” she said gently.
“MILEY!” she screeched, almost causing me to fall from my chair. “Come and help me mix up some color!”
A short, chubby girl with bad skin and beautiful eyes came trotting up.
Laura gave a prescription involving percentages and codes which might as well have been for gunpowder.
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