When we got home, she sprayed the Charlie all over her face and neck, but it got in her eye and went up her nose and then we both peed our pants laughing. There’s a picture of the new Charlie’s Angel doing the splits in the air with a white suit and platforms, so my mother decided to follow her lead, though not the splits part because she’s four-foot-ten and round. Then there’s the frosted pink lipstick-which has moved to her chin now, what with the burger and all-and the scent of Charlie. Her eyebrows have been plucked into a look of perpetual surprise. She’s in a white polyester pantsuit, platform sandals, and aqua eyeshadow, and she’s actually shaved her legs and armpits. My favourite song ever, Barry White’s “Love’s Theme,” is blasting from the loudspeaker. It is June 1979, and we are in a food court at Los Angeles International Airport. My mother bites into a Big Mac and her glasses catch the reflection of a purple neon light somewhere behind me.
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