"I'm not sure. I like a few dresses that I saw with an A-line skirt, but I also like the mermaid design. Maybe something backless? I know for sure I don't want the ballgown look. Too big." She wrinkled her nose. "I'll probably know when I finally put the dress on and it's just right. Did you know which dress you wanted to wear when you married Dad?"
"I did, but I didn't wear the dress that I wanted. His mother talked me out of it," I said.
"You didn't get to wear the dress you wanted at your own wedding?" Blossom asked, sounding appalled.
I slid into a parking space and turned off the engine. "I didn't, but that was a long time ago." I didn't want to dwell on the topic, mainly because I didn't want to relive my disappointment. I also didn't want to sound as if I was badmouthing her grandmother,though I secretly despised the woman and her domineering personality.
Back then, I had been young and worried about what other people thought. I had wanted a nontraditional dress, but my ex-husband's mother pressured me into wearing traditional white. I didn't listen to my mother, who told me I should do what I wanted since it was my day. I didn't listen to my inner voice, either. The only person's opinion that mattered was Estelle Nabors—because I knew she didn't think I was right for her son, and I desperately wanted her to like me.
The dress did look great on me, and we purchased it at a huge discount, but I wished I had stood my ground and worn the dress I ached to walk down the aisle in.
It had been an explosion of color—mostly maroon and pink shapes against a tan background. Fluid and flowy with long puffy sleeves, it also had a cutaway center that showed off my legs with each step, and when I stood still, the dress pooled at my feet. To this day I regretted my decision.
Conformity had been my priority during that period of my life. At my current age, if I ever walked down the aisle again, I was going to wear what I wanted. I might even try to find my dream dress. That's the kind of conviction that comes with age and no longer being concerned with what other people thought.
As we strolled toward the front of the boutique, I heard, "Auntie Lulah! Blossom!"
Keke raced toward us in jeans and a bright orange shirt, her natural hair worn in a seventies-style Afro. A few years older than Blossom, she was my brother's eldest child and had driven from Indiana, where she now lived, to support Blossom.
After we exchanged hugs—both girls screaming excitedly as if they didn't talk on the phone all the time—we entered the boutique and were greeted by one of the bridal consultants. He wore glasses and a suit and gave his name as Jones. It wasn'tclear if that was his first or last name, but we called him Jones since that's how he introduced himself. Not long after, Keke and I were seated on one side of a dressing room that could accommodate two other families.
We waited in our area for Blossom to exit the dressing room in her first dress. "Pretty," Keke murmured, inclining her head toward the other end of the room, where a group of four women and a little girl were oohing and aahing over their family member's pick—a column dress with a sweetheart neckline.
"I'm not crazy about the sleeves, but the rest of the dress is beautiful," I commented.
"Agreed." Keke wiggled her butt on the seat. "These chairs are so comfortable," she remarked.
"I wouldn't mind stealing one on the way out," I said out of the side of my mouth.
"It should fit easily in the back of Orange Julius," Keke said, giggling.
She sipped the non-alcoholic sparkling cider Jones had provided for us. There was also a small tray of grapes, strawberries, and cubed cheeses.
She leaned toward me. "So what do you think about Manuel?"
"I haven't seen much of him, but so far he seems like a nice young man." I kept my answer polite because I knew how close Keke and my daughter were.
"Such a PC answer, Auntie."
I smiled. "I don't know a whole lot about him, so I'm reserving judgment."
"Is he going to get my girl a ring?"
"Blossom said they're going ring shopping later today, so yes."
She sighed. "He should have surprised her. He better not be acting cheap with my cousin."
"How much did she tell you about him and his family?" The girls talked regularly, which was why Keke was here in the first place. Though Blossom had half-siblings, they were much younger and lived in Georgia. She and Keke had a closer, more sisterly relationship.
"Not much. I was surprised when she called and told me she was engaged. Daddy said you were surprised too." She cocked an eyebrow.
"Understatement of the year," I said.
We both laughed.
"As long as she's happy..." Keke said.
I nodded, unable to argue with such a profound statement. "What about you? Seeing anyone?"
