Claws of Life

Both women had their eyes fixed on Pretoria's hand. For the past five years these hands were the foundation of an uncanny friendship between a free-spirited nail technician and her wallflower client. From her first day of high school, to her undergrad freshman year, Pretoria's nail beds became a blank canvas for Maui's artistry. She had full creative freedom; the freedom she'd craved in nursing school and the freedom she left it all for when she dropped out. Maui selfishly wished her client would have a similar courage, simply so she wouldn't have to dismantle four hours of work.

But Pretoria felt cornered. Now that she'd finally landed a job with a decent hourly, they'd require 'natural or understated' nails, the exact opposite of the almond-shaped mosaic of cherubim and sparkling lilac clouds she wore that month. What were her options? A young musician with no work experience wasn't exactly the ideal candidate in the New York job market.

Pretoria was crushed.

It wasn't the fact that these were her birthday nails, or that she'd had them for just three days. It’s that Maui's had done the meticulous manicure for free, they brought her joy. She admired Maui; she embodied individuality, boldness, and resilience. A brilliant hustler who moved to New York with a suitcase and her aging cat.

Meanwhile, Maui prepared herself for dismantling, lifting Bento (her Himalayan cat) and placing her on the floor. Pretoria never liked Bento's face, it resembled an elderly man but had the innocent blue eyes of a young girl.

"I'm going to the restroom." Pretoria sighed. Before taking her next step, the cat scratched at her ankle, prompting a squeal from Pretoria. Bento managed to scratch off her anklet, as Pretoria reached for it, the furry terror trapped it between her tiny fangs and scurried off.

Out the back door and into the micro garden, Bento slowly backed herself under a table. Each step Pretoria took forward, Bento took one back.

"Bento- " Pretoria spoke softly, finding herself on all fours, "Open your mouth. Open." She prompted her to no avail. Soon Pretoria’s entire body was under the mosaic garden table and Bento dropped the gold chain.

"Here.'' Bento said, evoking a high pitched shriek from Pretoria. "Keep it down, you don't want to be caught in these clothes out here."

Her voice was unbecoming and reminiscent of Dorthy Dandrigge; feminine, dry, and slightly alluring. There's no telling what a cat's voice should sound like, but Pretoria imagined her to have a squeaky, silly tone.

How old was she supposed to be anyway?

Pretoria wiggled her way out from the table. Her heart raced as she took in her surroundings. Peony bushes and ginkgo trees that glistened like canary diamonds under the sun. They were far, far away from the herb garden at Maui’s salon.

"Welcome to China." a voice said calmly. It would take some time to accept that Bento was the face behind it.

"China?" Prerotia whispered.

"Gosh, I love it here… well, during these times. 1776 is one of my favorite years; 1776, 1996, and 2006."

Pretoria blinked bewilderedly.

"I'm a time traveler girl! That ‘cat's nine lives’ thing isn't just a cute figure of speech." Bento smiled.

Pretoria had more questions than she knew how to ask. "Why'd you bring me here?" she asked finally.

"Your nails." Bento replied, "But let's walk and talk, shall we? I can only be in the past for 3 days at a time."

Ancient China was the birthplace for many mundane things in the present day, beauty trends chiefly. The normalization of long decorative nails, Bento explained, was birthed by women of The Palace. With their abundant free time, they focused on their children and kept abreast of the arts. Several of them were poets, others painters, and clothing designers.

The Imperial Garden was more astounding with every step. Pretoria gazed at the koi fish as Bento kept close and continued her history lesson.

"A woman's nails were an implication of good health, good fortune, and good taste. A creative outlet and a status symbol. I’m not very traditional, but some ‘old school’ practices are worth embracing. Especially those that make you feel empowered." Bento concluded, gesturing to the maid’s quarters. Pretoria would have to dress like the staff to safely move about and go unnoticed.

"I’m not sure this is an ironclad disguise." Pretoria contested.

"Meh. You're racially ambiguous. Just don't make eye contact and stay silent." Bento reassured her.

Pretoria nodded.

"Status symbol?" she questioned, "I'm not sure I support nail art being elitist."

"Don’t be naive. All the best things were reserved for the rich in the past: literature, coffee, even waist trainers. But, simple luxuries are available for most people now."

"You're right."

"I know. History is beautiful that way, it's all cyclical." Bento smiled.

They entered an airy room where multiple women wearing intricate silk garbs lounged around. Two were occupied with a young boy with a queue ponytail at the nape of his shaved head. Pretoria looked curiously at him then diverted her eyes to a woman with lengthy nail guards of solid gold. She held a pudgy baby in her lap. The baby caught sight of Bento and squirmed from her mother's grip to play with her. Bento was gentle and allowed herself to be yanked occasionally, but this was short lived, and soon the infant was crawling away to her next interest.

After some hours, the two of them retreated under the garden table again. In a blink of an eye, Pretoria and Bento were back at the salon.

“So?” Bento asked expectantly.

“There’s nothing wrong with compromise,” Pretoria started, “BUT, life’s too short to give up the small things that brighten your days. Especially when it comes to self expression. I’ll find another job!”

“Exactly! Romanticize your life.” Bento cheered, raising her paws.

Maui appeared at the doorway, immediately noticing the suspicious plum blossoms in Pretoria’s hair. “Bento! Did you take her to 2006!?”