Was I a good friend — or a fool?

T

he day I nailed my Tamar MUA plaque on my side door, Eliana sent me breakfast.

I love that girl. I mean, all my friends are great, don’t get me wrong, but Eliana just gets me. We met in a parenting class a couple of years ago, when we both laugh-snorted at something the speaker said. We were the only ones who did. It was friendship at first snort, and till today, she’s the only adult friend I have who holds on to me, gasping, because she’s laughing so hard.

Our husbands often tell us we deserve each other. We take it as a compliment.

When she had to fly to Los Angeles for her mother’s emergency surgery, I baked her family supper for five nights in a row. When I broke my leg, she drove my carpool for a month.

And now she sent me a breakfast basket in honor of my first day. Eliana knows I can’t go anywhere unless I’ve had a good breakfast. I literally ignore my first client for a good two minutes while I read Eliana’s note.

I’m so proud you followed your dreams.

Time to show the world what you got.

Love, E

Aaaaaaww. Nobody knows quite as much as Eliana how hard it’s been to put myself out there. Makeup is a competitive business, and I hate competition. I hate pushing my way forward. When I finally decided to take the plunge, I promised myself: no social media. My business will come from word of mouth or not at all.

And in addition to everything else, Eliana’s the one who got me this client. She’d been my model over and over while I practiced techniques and tools on her, and of course, it was mutually beneficial; she got free makeovers for simchahs as I finetuned my skills, but still. The Sapirs asked her for the name of a good makeup artist after their mutual cousin’s wedding, and Eliana recommended me.

I look in her breakfast basket. It’s muffins, waffles, granola, yogurt, ice coffee, and orange juice.

The mother of the bride clears her throat noisily.

“Sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “Muffin?”

Two hours later I wave the bridal party out, wishing everyone mazel tov and brachos, not actually believing that this is my life. I get to do my hobby and get paid for it. Whaaaaaaaaaat.

I text Eliana.

Pinch me

She texts back: With pleasure.

Ha!

The other thing about mine and Eliana’s friendship is that we have similar struggles.