A hundred dollar worth

Once a month, I go to a book club. That day is my only real day of freedom. I don’t have to do any housework, and even if I stay out late with friends, my husband doesn’t complain. In fact, when it gets late, he even picks me up.

On this golden day, right after the book club ended, one of my friends said she had to rush to Flushing.

“If I go home now, I’ll have to cook. Where are you going?” I asked.

“I have an appointment to get a mole removed from my face.”

“Then I’ll come with you.”

While she was getting her mole removed, I sat and chatted with another friend. The skincare lady didn’t even look at my friend with the clean, pretty face. Instead, she sat next to me and kept staring at my face, as if waiting for the right moment to start talking to me. My freckled face must have caught her eye. 

“How much would it cost for a face with this many freckles?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. She replied, 

“For you, removing just a few moles won’t be enough. You’ll need IPL laser treatment.”

I didn’t really know what IPL was, but from what she explained, I guessed it meant they couldn’t remove each spot one by one — there were just too many. It would be like peeling off the top layer of skin. And it was expensive. Of course — how could they treat every single spot individually?

“Can you just remove the big ones for $100, like you did for my friend?” I asked. My friend often bought products there and had a cleaner face, so they probably gave her a better deal.

I smelled burning skin. My face started to sting and hurt. I just hoped it would be over soon. I told myself, Beauty is pain, just hang in there. When I stood up and looked in the mirror, I saw red scabs here and there — not where the freckles were gone, but right on top of them.

They didn’t remove them… they burned my face like with a hot iron.

Outside, it was dark and cold. My face was throbbing, and I was getting hungry since dinnertime had passed. Looking at each other, my friend and I laughed, comparing who had more spots removed.

“At our age, what are we even doing this late at night!” we joked.

As we walked through the night together, I remembered the old days — studying late in the library, walking under the night sky, and rushing to snack shops with friends. We decided to go find one. When the tteokbokki, kimbap, and stir-fried squid arrived at our table in all their colorful glory, we were taken back to our childhood that eating and eating until we emptied every last coin from our pockets.

I know I can never go back to that bright, youthful time. But my heart still lingers there, until my husband’s grumpy voice brings me back.

“You still have all your freckles! And you spent $100?”