The French Girl by Felicia Donovan Read Free Book Online Page B

cabinet took up most of one wall with many drawers and openings that were stuffed with gold towels. On another wall was what looked like an old table, but it had a copper sink set in it. The dark wood, gold towels and stone floors made it feel very old.
    “Be careful the water does not get too hot,” Giselle said as she turned on the faucet and tested it. She showed me how to work the stopper. “And here is some green tea shampoo to wash your hair with,” she said pointing to a yellow-greenish bottle. “And this is a beer and egg rinse.  I just mixed it up this morning if you want to put some in your hair after you shampoo.”
    “Beer and egg?” I asked staring at the glass jar with the strange contents in it.
    Giselle laughed.  “I know, it sounds crazy, but it really works. Trust me.  Just do not drink it,” she said. “I will call you when dinner is almost ready.”
    The tub was so deep it covered me up to my chin. I had never been in such a deep tub before and my body seemed to float above the water.  I pushed my arms down, but they floated back up to the surface all on their own. I scrubbed using the new soap and let it float in the water for a while.  There was a small tray next to the tub that had a bunch of bottles on it. I picked each one up and read them.  Bonne Femmes (Good Woman) Lemongrass Shampoo,” read one.  “ Bonne Femmes (Good Woman) Lavender Rinse,” read another. Each label had a picture of a woman carrying a basket of flowers on it.  I stared at the woman’s almond-shaped eyes, curly brown hair and high cheekbones for some time.
    My hair was knotted in tangles after I shampooed it. All I could think of was how Maman used to hold onto me from behind, her long fingernails digging deep into my shoulder as she ripped the brush through my hair.  I did not want to go through that again, so I opened the jar Giselle had mentioned and poured the strange mixture over my head.
    “Etoile, we will be eating soon,” I heard her call from below.
    Leaning my head way back, I ducked below the water and rinsed it all out.
    I chose a prairie skirt just like the one Giselle had on and a light green sweater.  The sweater was a little big, but I liked it. There was a brand new comb and brush in one of the dresser drawers. The comb glided through my hair.
    “Look at you!” Giselle said as I came into the kitchen.  She reached for my hand and spun me around.  “ Très beau .”
    “ Merci .”
    “Now you can you help me set the table.”
    Giselle showed me where everything was.  I was amazed at how many things there were to put out. At home, Anais and I often ate on napkins but Giselle insisted on placemats, two different forks for each person, cloth napkins, salad bowls, a big plate and a little plate.  I could not imagine washing all those dishes.
    “We like a big meal at least twice a week,” Giselle explained. “If it were up to Jean, she would have a sandwich, but I insist on eating the French way.”
    “The French way?” I asked curiously.
    “We eat very slowly and savor each bite.  Food should bring pleasure, non ?  If it is enjoyed slowly, you will never get fat.”
    I had never heard of this before, nor had I ever watched other people eat to see if they were eating fast or slow.  Perhaps Mrs. Lavasseur was a fat pig because she ate too fast?
    “Giselle?” I asked as I set three plates out.
    “Yes?”
    “Where did you get all of those bottles of shampoo and rinse?”
    “Oh those,” she said as she diced up a clove of garlic, “I make them. Many of the students do not have cars and cannot get to a store to buy their toiletries so I earn some extra money by making and selling them in the University store.”
    “But the picture of the woman on the labels…”
    “That is my Grand-mère ,” she said as she tossed the garlic into a glass container filled with olive oil.  She looked over her shoulder.  “Why do you ask?”
    “Because… she looks like my Maman,” I