Airel - Aaron Patterson [57]
It was date night. Cue the ominous music. It’s a good thing my mom was busy fussing and hovering over me, because my emotions were getting pulled in so many different directions. How could I dread so completely the one thing I had been wanting with all my heart for so long? It was just crazy. Mom was there, though, to run a brush through my hair and help me decide on the right shoes—but we both knew it wasn’t about any of that. When you need your mom, you just need your mom.
My hair looked like spun silk, but darker, and kind of metallic looking. When I touched it, I gasped. It was so soft, but so strong that when I pulled a strand from the brush and tried to break it, I couldn’t. With each stroke it got smoother and smoother. Maybe I was going to die—but at least I would die looking good.
It was just after six, and Mom and I shared a glance between us. I pulled on a cute little dress that I had picked up at Forever 21. Kim had insisted that I buy it and I had to admit that it did look great. It was a light springy material, sky blue, with silver lines falling down the right side and curling up the hip into a flower with silver petals. The thread was so beautiful and delicate that I was almost afraid to touch it. It was a sleeveless v-cut with the delicate hem at my knees. It was so flattering that I blushed at my own reflection in the long mirror on the back of my bedroom door.
Mom helped me complete the look with strappy black high-heels. I pulled my hair back with a barrette and let half of it fall over my shoulders. I was amazed. No more flat iron for this chick. I chose the same shade of eye shadow as my dress and some clear lip-gloss. I felt amazing. Was this how it was supposed to feel?
Mom excused herself from my room. She said she had to get dinner ready downstairs, but as she left, she was dabbing at her eyes and I think maybe she was just as emotional about date night as I was.
As she blew me a kiss and closed my door, Kim called, my phone bouncing on the dresser. I answered it, sure that she could hear me smile. “Yes, my dear Kim. I take it you’re still trying to decide what to wear?” I could imagine her standing in front of her bedroom mirror with a frustrated look on her face; the two dresses in question hanging next to each other like a line-up at the city jail.
“Yes! The red one…is it too fancy? Maybe we won’t be going to a very fancy place. The black one is hot though... but I’m so pale! I should have gone tanning last week. Argh, Airel, what am I going to do?”
“The black one’s better. You know how red and your hair mix. I don’t know why you even bought that one.” Kim had seen the red one—and when I say red, I mean in-your-face bright red—and had to have it. Her red-orange hair made her look like a cooked lobster if she ever wore anything red.
“You think? The black is so…well, so cliché. You know, every girl has a little black dress. But on a first date?”
“Kim, since when do you care about what anyone else thinks? Go black and don’t look back. I gotta go. I’ll call later tonight, maybe in the morning if we stay out late.” I didn’t want her texting every five minutes for an update.
“Okay, I’ll wear the black one. Oh, I can’t wait!” She giggled. “Call me!” I hung up and tossed the phone into a tiny clutch I was going to cart around with me, more to complete the look than anything else.
I heard Michael’s truck pull up out front and I moved to the window to look out. I wanted to run down and open the door for him to block his path to my dad, but Dad had already told me to stay in my room until he had a chance to meet "the guy." "The guy." He was more than "the guy," of course, but dads will be dads.
I heard the doorbell and a dry voice downstairs. I paced the room and double-checked my make-up and hair. Spinning around, I smiled at the way my dress