Special today: manicurist woes

It was a spontaneous thought, provoked by days of agonizing pain. There's been this unwelcome twinge in my upper back and neck for a week or so, and no matter how hard I try to stretch, kneed or contort it out of me, it remains like an uninvited party pooper.

I was grumbling to myself and shifting uncomfortably in my seat at the breakfast table when I randomly thought of a bridal shower gift I had received: a half hour massage. Oh, glorious day! Why hadn't I thought of it before?

It was actually a gift package, a one-of-everything certificates, and I had already scratched off eyelash tinting (looked like I had smudge mascara beneath my lower lashes at first), a facial (where I was red-faced and peeling for a week afterward) and a scalp massage and deep conditioning treatment that was anything but. I was a little hesitant, since I wasn't immediately impressed with my other services but thought, hey, could it get any worse?

I called to make an appointment and to my surprise they had an opening in a few hours. And here I was, thinking that I better call and reserve now because I wouldn't be able to get in until next week. I envisioned more days filled with pain and not being able to look all the way right; nights of tossing and turning in bed, waking up stiff in the morning and constantly stretching my back. It was a relief and I jumped on the opportunity. "Sure, 11:15 is great!" I told the receptionist. "Would I be able to get the manicure today as well?"

"Well, your manicure has been voided because you were late to the appointment before."

"Really? When I talked to them that day, I explained that I was coming from out of town and don't have a cell phone, so couldn't call to let you know that I was running late. " I felt the blood rush to my face. They had mixed up the times and yes, okay, fine, I was running a little late but nothing too serious. We're talking 15 minutes! It was the day before my wedding for crying out loud, and this was my nail appointment! Give the bride a little benefit of the doubt, eh?

"Okay, Let me check with my boss. Do you still want to come in at 11:15?"

Driving into town I obsessed with the time, constantly glancing at the minutes as they changed. There was no way I was going to be late for this appointment. I need this damn knot out of my back and they're not going to void it!

Melanie brought me to the back room. She was rotund and smiley with hairspray-matted hair and layered black clothing. I followed her to the third room where she explained what our session would entail. I happily slid under the sheets and pressed my face into the halo.

Thirty minutes and six classical songs later, I exited feeling a little limber but definitely not cured.

"Thanks Molly. Lisa is ready for your manicure right over there," she said and turned on her heals to go clean up the room.

"Oh, but. So, I'm getting a manicure?" I stammered as I walked towards the black towel covered table. Lisa was of Asian decent and and pushed her butterfly framed glasses up while reaching for nail files on her tip-toes. I had prepared myself for not getting one and found this both a kink in my newly formed afternoon plan and a little frazzling, but why the heck not?

I choose a dark merlot colour and wheeled myself up to the table. It began silently. I glanced around the room at the pedicure massage chairs, the sterilizers with fingerprints muddying up the glass covers and at "Lisa's" small framed wedding photo to my left.

"You're married now, right?" She asked. How did she know? I thought for a moment I was being spied on, but then logic returned and I remembered that I must have mentioned it in one of my previous trips.

"Yes. almost two months now." I was hopeful to return to the silence we were previously enjoying, but Lisa was not.

"I'm married. My husband is a marine... He has problem you know?"

This was heavy ground. A marine with problems? I was hoping to numb my mind with such things as the weather and local gossip -- not like I know any -- but Lisa was obviously not.

She continued to talk about how she got married at the age of 21. How her husband had moved all around the U.S. and even went to Iraq while she stayed in Maine. She talked about her 14 month old daughter and their disciplinary strategies, how she wanted to let her daughter out of the corner, but he said no.

I came to know that her husband's mother was a heavy drinker and drugger and wanted nothing to do with Lisa's child and that they didn't get along at all. That her husband constantly fights with them and they offered him no support when he was overseas and completely relied on her.

I know that Lisa's mother has three grandchildren now. That her family came to Maine four years ago and her sister and her husband live in Maine as well.

She wanted to be a Doctor or a lawyer. Not a beautician.

Her husband is disabled. "That's' what they say, disabled. And he is. He needs help," she told me. But he wants to go back into the military and she thinks he's selfish because he is a good father and husband. She'll leave him if he doesn't get help. She's thinking about it.

Her eyes lit up as she spoke about college in Virginia and how she was in a sorority. She had a loud voice despite her petite size and partied in D.C. Thursday, Friday and Saturday night.

I sat there, my hands in hers, listening and nodding. I chirped in with "oh, yeah" and "right" a few times, but basically listened as she unloaded everything that was wrong in her life onto me and my nails.

When she was finally finished, she looked at me and shrugged. Her lips pouted in a disappointment, "okay, you're finished."

I felt like I should give her a hug. Tell her I'd call her.

She hovered as I paid the cost. (Yeah, they charged me the difference of my manicure from switching it with the eyebrow wax I was never going to have there.) I tried to keep the conversation going with the receptionist so Lisa would walk away and I could tip her. She didn't, so I tipped her anyway and said my goodbyes. I wanted to tip her more.

I studied my nails against the black of the steering wheel. Was it all just for pity tips? Naw. I put on my seat belt and stretched the sore muscle in my back.