Rain Village - Carolyn Turgeon [87]
Two nights before we left Mexico for the new season, Mauro knocked on my door. He was dressed in a black suit and hat and held a bouquet of geraniums he’d plucked from the walls surrounding the villa.
“Tessa,” he said, before I could speak, “would you go to dinner with me tonight?”
I looked at him, confused. “But I always have dinner with you, Mauro,” I said.
“No, no,” he said, pushing the geraniums into my hand, “Not here. Outside. In the city.”
“Oh,” I said, blushing. “You mean . . .?” I didn’t know what to say.
“I want to take you to dinner, Tessa,” he said.
“Okay,” I said.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” he said, looking at me from under his thick lashes. He was so handsome in his white shirt and dark suit, his hair slicked back with grease. In one quick movement he kissed my cheek, then left me there in the doorway.
I stood there for a full minute before it hit me that Mauro Ramirez had just asked me, Tessa Riley, out on a date. I touched my cheek where he had kissed me, my face burning, my hands trembling. This was not supposed to happen, I thought. This was not ever supposed to happen for a girl like me.
I dropped the flowers on my bed and raced to the shower. My heart pounded as I slicked shampoo through my hair and slapped scented soap over my skin, and I shook when I stepped in front of the mirror, glaring at my flat body. I rubbed my hair with a towel, leaned into the glass and stared right into my own eyes, blue and wild with fear and excitement.
What to wear seemed like the biggest decision of my life. I yanked out shirt after shirt from my closet—old ragged ones I’d worn in the factory, sweet embroidered ones sewn by Mrs. Ramirez—but everything seemed wrong, dull. Finally I pulled out the rhinestone-lined skirt Mary had made for me for my thirteenth birthday, and slipped it on with a tight white top. The effect was not too bad, I thought, staring into the mirror. My skin looked tan against the white, and I looked summery, like I should be sipping lemonade. Still, I cursed my ridiculous body, my pinched face. I wanted to weep and cry out with excitement, all at once.
I looked at the clock. I had fifteen more minutes—just enough time to get Lollie’s opinion. I ran through the bathroom to the other side and knocked on her door, which swung open almost immediately.
“Tessa!” she said, pulling me inside.
“Can you lend me some makeup?” I asked. “Mauro is taking me out tonight, and I want to look nice.”
“That’s wonderful!” she exclaimed, a little too happy. I realized I hadn’t seen Geraldo around for several days, though Lollie had seemed fine at practice that morning.
“That skirt is muy bonita,” she said. “Why don’t you see how this necklace looks with it?” She led me over to the sweeping bureau covered in jars and bottles. Her eyes were red and slightly swollen.
“Are you okay, Lollie?”
“Of course,” she said, smiling as she clasped a thick silver band around my neck and let it nestle into my collarbone.
In the mirror, I was surprised at how it glinted. I never wore jewelry. Behind me Lollie looked transformed, glowing. For a moment my mind went to the ring wrapped in a sack at the bottom of my suitcase, and I imagined placing it on my finger, dazzling everyone we passed. I pushed the thought away immediately.
“Thank you,” I said, turning to her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Sí, sí,” she said. “Now let’s get a little makeup on you, princesa.”
She reached for a tube of lip gloss, then coated my lips with a series of small dabs. Next she poured powder over my skin, rubbing it in with a large puff.
“Cierra tus ojos.” I closed my eyes, and she pulled a pencil across the lids. I pointed to the pot of glitter, laughing, and she sprinkled a few specks on my lids.
“I used to spend hours getting ready for my big dates,” Lollie said. “The boys used to beat down our door to get to me, once upon a time, in the last century.”
I squeezed her hand and kissed her. When I looked in the