**Chimera**
In the mirror’s glassy surface, I watch detachedly—almost disembodied—as a familiar hand applies makeup on my face.
Foundation, thick and matte. Powder, dust from a flaking cake that shimmers on the skin as the brush caresses cheeks, forehead, nose, neck, and breasts.
Blush.
Eyeshadow.
Eyeliner.
Lipliner.
Lipstick, for color. Red. Fire-engine bright. Slathered on in a pretty, painted smile, it reminds me of a clown.
A tear slides down my cheek, ruining all my work, causing the paint to smear.
All except that smile.
My smile is—as always—perfect.
———
“I can’t believe this!”
I yawn and stretch, hearing the crinkle of newspaper beside me.
“I cannot believe this!” Keith Longrin yells again, pounding his fist against the mattress. I roll over to look up at him sitting against the headboard of our bed. “Look at this, Cady, just look at this!” He waves the paper at me. “The governor’s priest—Father Whatshisname—just came out of the closet today in the Sunday paper. The front page!”