– Fiction by George Nevgodovskyy –
Featured in Issue 22 of Dreamers Magazine.
I knew Max would be proposing when, under a low, gray sky, my mother herded me to get a manicure. I’d never even stepped into a salon, never showed interest in anything remotely feminine growing up. Except for the sake of ring photos, I couldn’t see any other reason why she’d take me now.
The stylist’s name was Eva, a young woman with long curly hair dyed a striking red-orange ombré. Eva had piercing eyes. Eva was cool. Eva intimidated me.
I glimpsed her nails—two-toned glossy pink and white extensions, sharp and bedazzled. On her hands they looked
more like weapons than decoration.
“So what are you thinking?” Eva asked me. It took me a second to realize she was asking about the nails.
“Actually, I love the way you did yours.”
“That makes it easy,” she said, ceding a smile.
“How’s Max been?” Mom asked from the seat beside me. I realized he must’ve seen her and Dad to get their permission, do things the traditional way. Though we’d never discussed it, I knew he’d want me to take his last name.
Sometimes I think Max must’ve been designed in a lab, genetically optimized to please parents. Lapsed Christian, civil engineer. He cheered for the right teams, voted just progressively enough, always offered to clear the table after dinner. My parents must’ve been over the moon when he asked. They might’ve even cried.
“Oh, you know. Working lots.” I wondered what Eva was thinking as she cleaned my cuticles. If she sensed anything hidden beneath the tones of my voice.
It took a while for Max and me to be okay again.
Maybe I never told my mother what happened because I didn’t want to shatter their illusion. To them he was perfect, someone who could never hurt me or step outside the bounds of a relationship, lie so effortlessly, lie over and over again. Maybe I didn’t want the shatter the illusion for myself. Was it so bad to want things to stay the way they were?
When Eva was finished, she put her hands next to mine.
“We’re twins,” she said.
I looked down at our nails. What looked so natural on hers looked alien on mine. I tried picturing a diamond on my hand, catching the light.
Then I thought, Eva would’ve been picturing gouging Max’s eyes out.
“Are you happy?” Eva asked me. I wanted to tell her I didn’t know. Ask her if I should say yes to Max.
“Yes. They look great.”
“Max is going to love them,” Mom chimed in.
On our way out I turned and saw Eva, saw her looking back at me, smiling almost sympathetically. Like she didn’t envy the choice I had to make. With her fiery hair, from a distance, she looked like a sunset. Or maybe it was a sunrise.
And when I got into the car, watching the salon fade as fog bloomed on the windows, watching Eva’s glow dim to an
ember, I still couldn’t decide which she resembled more.
About the Author – George Nevgodovskyy
George Nevgodovskyy was born in Kiev, Ukraine, but has lived in Vancouver, Canada for most of his life. He has previously been published in East of the Web, Nunum, Rejection Letters, trampset, and others. He does his best writing after everyone has gone to sleep. Check out more of his work at georgenev.blogspot.com
Meanwhile, at Dreamers…
Fireside Writing Retreat
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Dreamers Writing Farm
Dreamers Writing Farm is the physical home of the Dreamers community, a quiet, creative space on the Bruce Peninsula in Ontario. Writers, artists, and travellers stay here throughout the year in simple, literary-themed cabins, tents, and studio suites.