Smeared Lipstick

Smeared Lipstick.

When Temari was very young, she'd spend hours playing dress-up in mommy's clothes and pretend she was a real grown-up with a husband and kids and no icky younger brothers. She'd be a real mature woman and she'd be a faithful wife and do all of the housework and cleaning and help the kids with their homework (because, as well as being a caring mother, she'd be smart – just like mommy). But then mommy had to die and playing dress-up wasn't fun anymore. It was sad and scary because mommy wasn't going to put her grown-up red lipstick on her little baby, or laugh in that tinkling way (like a fountain; a really pretty one with an angel on it and everything).

When she was a little older, she wanted to be an all grown-up teenager (instead of just a grown-up) with big boobs and short skirts and a thousand boys at her feet. But she wanted, more than anything, to be a good fighter – better than her icky brothers, but original too; one of a kind. And she wouldn't be a damsel in distress but she still wouldn't mind a knight in shining armour coming to sweet her off her feet.

When she was a tiny bit older, she got her first boyfriend. They'd hold hands in the playground and he'd tell her that she was very pretty and she'd feel ever so grown-up. But then he tried to kiss her on the cheek and she pushed him away because she didn't want cooties. Having a 'boyfriend', she realised, was kind of stupid. And she'd decided that she didn't want to pretend to be a grown-up anymore, or even a teenager, because what was the point? She just wanted to go back to warm hugs in her mommy's arms, pretending that she was grown-up and mature but never getting much older.

Playing pretend was, at the age of ten, simply out of the question. She didn't have the time. She had to focus on staying alive. Becoming a stronger kunoichi. That was much more important, she'd decided, than trying to look pretty for the boys. Besides, what was the point in boys? All they did was talk a load of crap and pretend they were tough when not a single one of them – she was certain of this – had to deal with what she had to deal with.

At the age of twelve, she hadn't changed her mind. She just… Didn't want people to ignore her. If she had to be pretty in order for people to pay attention to her, so be it. She could take people underestimating her fighting ability. So out came the shorter dresses and skirts and the more revealing tops, with make-up and more time than she'd like to admit practising a smile in front of the mirror.

At the age of thirteen, she thought she saw her mother again. Staring into the mirror with a mascara brush near her eye, Temari had thought she'd glimpsed her mother standing behind her, giggling. As the brush missed and marked her cheek with black, she spun round, hearing the tinkling words of 'oh, honey, do you want me to help get that off?'

And she'd looked and she'd looked, but no one was there.

At the age of fifteen, Temari was sitting in her room and trying not to cry because there was nothing more that she wanted right then than to play dress-up and pretend to be a grown-up. She'd gotten the big boobs and the short skirts and the thousand boys falling at her feet. Heck, she'd even become a strong kunoichi – though she did still have those icky brothers.

There's just no one to help her wipe off her smeared lipstick.