CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Did you try to leave this dress back there?” Marissa questions me as I walk down the aisle.
I pause and give the fabric one more glance. “I don’t like the green one. Don’t you think it’s too sparkly?” The floor length emerald dress in question shimmers even under the dull lights of the large shop. Small sequins cover almost every inch and it has to weigh no less than fifteen pounds.
“What’s the point of going to a charity gala if you can’t sparkle?” Marissa stretches the floor length gown across the few others on top of my cart. “You’re trying it on.”
“Yes, Mother.” I roll my eyes but face the opposite direction so she doesn’t see. Marissa is spunky, she could probably take me.
Racks of dresses spread out before us, organized by color not size. My mission feels more and more impossible. I’ve never been to a charity gala, and even the words sound intimidating.
Marissa stands on the other side of the rack with her big brown eyes downcast as she sorts through evening attire and makes no attempt to lower her voice. “So, tell me. Did Finn ask you to this event before, during, or after the blow job?”
“After, but it wasn’t like that.” I flash her my best stern face, but she hasn’t looked up from her task. “And don’t say blow job so loud.” I whisper the offending words.
“Aspen.” She huffs a sigh implying she doesn’t know what to do with me.
A few girls at work told me this thrift store was the best in town. With only a few days left to pick out an evening gown to wear to this charity event Finn asked me to, I had no other options. The last time I wore a fancy dress it was senior prom and Jesse Valcamp spilled a glass of beer down the back during the beach bonfire after party. I don’t have much experience in the whole process.
“Plus, I don’t want to sparkle too much. I have no idea what I’m doing, I don’t want to draw more attention to myself. Finn said he hates these parties, but Trey is making him go. I’m there for moral support only.”
I pick a blue tea length dress from the rack in my size. It’s not an evening gown, but I’ll at least try it on. The dress swings in front of me as I move to lay it down and the smell of moth balls clogs my nose. I can’t afford to buy a dress from the mall or one of the other designer shops in town. This place is my one option, but I also can’t wear a dress that smells like a grandmother’s closet. So back on the rack it goes.
Marissa hands over a pea-green floor length dress with nothing but straps keeping the back together. The design is wonderful, but the color is horrid.
“Would you get out of the greens? You are doing no good over there. I’m not wearing baby puke to a charity event.” I try to hand the dress back, but she walks by pretending she has no idea who I am. Rather than risk the censure of putting the dress in the wrong color I stick it on the cart with the others.
Marissa rolls her eyes in an exaggerated way. “It’s not bad. You’re going to try it on. Anyway, it’s cute Finn is nervous. Think of it as prom, but with dinner. You should get him a gift to help with his anxieties.”
“What? A corsage? Pepto?” Those might not be gala appropriate.
The wooden floor creaks as she walks past a spot causing her to look at her feet. “No. Go with sweet. Maybe some cufflinks or a tie.” She looks up and finally sees the panic in my eyes, “You’re as nervous as he is, aren’t you?
“Maybe.” I hold up the closest dress to change topic. “What about this one?”
Marissa’s eyebrows rise as she inspects the dress across the aisle. “I love you, Pen. You’re a lot of great things, but you are not a size four."
Damnit. Looking again she’s right, this dress could be in the juniors section. “Whatever. I could diet heavily for the next few days.” Of course I'd also have to cut off an arm to lose enough weight to be a size four by this weekend. And then I’d be all disproportioned so it still wouldn’t work.
I’m ready to throw my hands in the air and scream to the ceiling. Why in the hell did I wait until Thursday to shop for this? My panic starts to hit an all-time high as my butt begins to vibrate. I’m saved by the phone, and the man who has taken up more of my thoughts than I'm ready to admit.
FINN:I know you’re dress shopping, but when you find one do you think you could pick me out a tie to match? My black bat signal one didn’t pass Trey's inspection.
I have to stop pushing the cart in order to text Finn back. There are so many dresses lined across the sides and folded over the seat that the weight has made it hard to maneuver through the tight spaces.
“Let’s go. You have a good amount to try on.” Marissa takes the cart from me and pushes it to the two fitting rooms at the back of the store.
*
Between going fifty dollars over budget and the taxi ride home, I may not be able to eat for a day or two next week, but the beautiful dress is worth the lack of extra money. Yes, apparently when I get the chance to dress up and be a princess, I become superficial. I’m dealing.
After emptying my wallet for Saturday night, Marissa and I grabbed burgers at the restaurant across from the thrift store. Our conversation was light, and she threatened to hunt down and kill her ex less than four times during dinner. It was a marked improvement.
Marissa moved to Oakland when she finished college because she wanted to be with Cody. She’s always missed the warmth of Southern California and has vowed to never make a major life decision for a boy ever again. Now I’m worried the mild temperatures of the bay will send her running home to warmer waters.
