No chip

I watch as Beka trims my cuticles. I tend to trim them myself, as well as do all nail care myself, but I had decided to treat myself to a no-chip mani/pedi.

The pedicure had gone off without a hitch. I loved the massage chair, the foot rub, and the color on my toenails. I was a bit embarrassed that my legs weren't shaved, but surely they'd seen worse than that, right?

The manicure had now begun and I was a bit anxious. Although I haven't had many manicures in my life, I always worry a bit when I have them. Two of my nails were damaged in a childhood accident and I don't look forward to the wide eyes, the huhs, the quickly changing of the subject when someone looks at them closely. Besides that, I am often uncomfortable with relinquishing control of my appearance to others. Not that I put a lot of effort into it in the first place, but I don't like giving control up easily. 

But this was pretty minor, right? I had picked out the color myself, decided on the nail shape myself, and picked the salon myself. So I was in control.

Or so I thought.

A quick pinch followed by a slim spike of pain radiated up through my right ring finger. I said a meager "ow" and Beka began to apologize just as blood began to flow from the skin around my nail. I reassured her it was fine, but, to be honest, it wasn't. She had cut me. I had never had this happen before at a manicure (though, again, I didn't have them often). Beka quickly took out a dropper filled with a light green liquid and spread it over my bleeding finger. I thought perhaps she should wipe away the blood first, but what did I know? Beka was the expert, wasn't she? Although, again, this expert had just cut me.

Beka continued the manicure, delicately handling the nail polish and only exclaiming a soft "oh" at my mangled fingernail (she made no comment on the partially amputated thumb, but most people don't notice that one).

But my nail continued to bleed. Every now and then, Beka would squeeze my finger, more blood would seep out, and then she'd apply more of the light green liquid.

It would be fine, I reassured myself. Mistakes happen, she didn't mean to cut me, and, besides, my nails would look fun and great for two weeks or so.

Beka squeezed my nail again and more blood came out. The blood and light green liquid had now mixed to form a rather off-putting brown stain that was starting to curve around my nail. She wiped it away and I was relieved to see the stain wasn't deep.

Without further incident, the manicure finished up and Beka helped me and my things to the UV drying station. I was then left alone as Beka went to attend to a client who had specifically requested her, unable to do anything, even check my phone, for fear of messing up the manicure. I don't know how long I spent there, but possibly up to 40 minutes. 

But the polish was just not drying. I checked it now and then and it was still squishy.

Eventually, Beka came back over to me and announced it was time for me to go. I was a bit confused as my nails weren't dry yet, but I trusted her and grabbed my purse. My nails got an imprint of the fabric immediately on them.

I went to pay and lied and said I'd had a good experience. I certainly didn't want Beka getting in trouble, she had seemed so nice. Besides, I avoid conflict as much as I possibly can. I tried to scan the QR code to tip her on Zelle but my phone was not picking it up. I handed the employee at the check in/out station a ten to give to Beka when she was done with her current client. I said I didn't want to interrupt, but I noticed from my peripheral vision that he went up to her right away, interrupting her, to give her the tip, as I hurried out the door.

Summoning an Uber, I stayed under the awning since it was drizzling. I shouldn't have put so much on this manicure. I was looking for some self-care and was now not feeling great about my choices. The color was still nice, so was the shape, but the salon had clearly been a mistake.

Still, I told myself, I had about two weeks of no chip color on. That was a win. I smiled and climbed into my Uber.

The next day, I found a chip.

(Prompt by me)