I chuckle. It’s true. Frannie and Lucy are best friends while Frizzle prefers me. We swap occasionally, but for the most part, we’ve bonded with the cat that is most like ourselves.
Speaking of swap…
“Lucy, even if I went on this date in your place tonight, it wouldn’t turn out the way you want. You know me. Finley would never text you or request a second date. I’d ruin your chances.” Frizzle’s sandpaper tongue licks my fingers, and I find the sensation oddly calming, which isnotthe feeling I get when I’m forced to wear clothes of that same texture.
“Lorelei, look at me.” I turn my gaze from Frizzle to her. Lucy’s head is tilted, strawberry blonde hair thrown over one shoulder, her bangs pinned back to keep the hair strands from poking her injured eye. “Yes, you’re logical and uptight and sensible and all those good things, but you are also flexible and fun and have the ability to let loose every now and then. Though you don’t show it often, you are witty and humorous. You simply let your fear of what people think get in the way of living, which results in you getting bogged down walking a tightrope of a life. And I know I’m preaching to the choir, but you can’t keep being scared of howpeople perceive you. I don’t believe you will bore Finley or scare him off. I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t believe in you.”
Tears well in my eyes, and I hug Frizzle a little closer. She doesn’t like that, so she wiggles out of my grasp and sprints off. Much like me. Closed off to affection. Running away at the first sign of intimacy unless it’s with someone I’ve grown up with like my sister, my best friend, my parents, and Grandma Netty. I’m not even completely comfortable with my downstairs neighbor who has been frequenting my life a lot more recently, though Karoline is wonderful. It just… takes me a while.
“Do you really think I can achieve a second date with him for you?” I sniffle, pushing back the tears.
“Yes, I do,” she declares. “Of course you’ll have to play into who I am some so that he’s not confused when he actually goes on a date with me, but I do want you to have this night. Even if it’s just to practice for the real thing in the future. Even if it’s just a night you can have fun and go on a date with a prince and lay all your uptightness aside. You can just go have a good time. I trust you, Lor.”
As I contemplate her words, she relaxes back into the couch and Frannie stalks off, probably to find Frizzle. I lift myself out of the chair and squeeze onto the couch so I'm laying on my side facing Lucy. “You promise it’s just this once? And you won’t be mad if I do scare him away?”
Lucy grins and flops to her side to face me, shifting the couch a little with her movement. She uses the hand not tucked under her head to play with a strand of hair that has fallen out of my ponytail. “Yes and no. Just this once, and I won’t get mad. If it’s not meantto be, then it won’t be. Simple as that. I’m trying to live in that mindset these days.”
She blinks, though the injured eye remains halfway closed. Her hazel irises, often set in a beautiful green color, sparkle. At least, the one I can see.
I don’t know if I believe her, but she seems to have faith in me. That notion alone is enough to bolster my spirits and confidence. I have zero plans to make this night about me, but at least I could get a good meal out of helping my sister. Also, it gives me the chance to vet this man out for myself to make sure he is worthy of my sister. Prince or not, if he doesn’t measure up, I will find a way to push him out. I’m tired of seeing my sister heartbroken over loser men who think she’s so naive and innocent that they can have their way with her heart.
I inhale deeply until my lungs scream for me to let it out. I tuck my face into my arm so as to not blow the hot air onto Lucy. Then I say, “Fine. But just this once. And I am not giving myself bangs to match yours…”
Lucy rolls over me until she hits the floor, then she stands beside me. I take her previous position of lying on my back and staring at the ceiling. Well, she’s leaning over me now, so I’m mostly staring at a blackened eye and pearly white teeth. “But you’ll need to borrow my wardrobe. Yours is too… corporate.”
I groan and verbally digress, but internally, I’m curious to see what I would look like in Lucy’s feminine flair and soft makeup. Will I pull it off as well as she does?
“Just no wool or polyester or other scratchy fabrics. Or satin. It’s not quite like silk.”
Two hours, tons of bickering, and eight outfits later, I have my answer.
Yes.
I don’t recognize the woman staring back at me in the mirror. She’s not Lucy, but she’s also not Lorelei. My strawberry blonde waves fall gently over one shoulder. The blush pink, cap-sleeved dress somehow compliments my freckled skin without bringing out the red underneath. The waistline fits perfectly, and the hemline rests snugly below my knees. Matching pink closed-toed heels adorn my feet, and I know I’ll regret letting her win that round by the end of the night.
“You look…”
“It’s too much, right? I should change into pants.”
Lucy places a hand around my waist and leans into my side. “No, Lorelei. You should never wear pants again. You look like a true princess. Polished, professional, and pretty.”
I squirm at her words, and everything inside me screams to strip off the dress and grab my trusted black pants and white collared shirt. But tonight’s goal is to be someone other than me, to be Lucy. And tobeLucy, I have to dress like Lucy. This dress is made of a silky material that doesn’t cause my skin to crawl, which is the only reason I am agreeing to wear it.
“Seriously, Lor. I look like a twelve-year-old girl when I wear this dress, which is why I don’t wear it anymore. But you? It’s in the way you carry yourself. You make this dress look hot. Oh, and here’s my ring. Wear it. You know I always have it on.”
She gives me her silver band that she wears daily on her left index finger. I don’t quite like the hard metal around my finger, but I’m doing this for her.
After I slip the ring on, Lucy slaps my butt, effectively ruining the moment between us. I side-eye her before returning to the woman in the mirror.
If I had a tiara, I might mistake myself for a princess, too.
Shaking the thought away, I grab my black purse from my dresser (I refused to use one of Lucy’s pink ones. There is only so much pink a girl can wear), fill up my white to-go cup, tell my cats and plants goodbye, and head out the door.
Lucy stands on the balcony of the apartment, waving frantically and blowing kisses my way. Her show of affection doesn’t end until I’ve pulled out of the parking lot and lost her in my rearview mirror.
I type in the name of the restaurant I’m supposed to meet Finley at. (I had Lucy text him during the two insufferable hours of constant changing to let him know the plans changed from him picking me up to me meeting him.) It’s forty minutes away, and that puts me arriving thirty minutes early.
I have an hour and ten minutes to morph my brain into Lucy and calm my nerves.
