28
Jill
Jill was waiting in line for a piece of cake when she thought she heard someone scream from the upper deck.
It was hard to hear anything over the pulsing music and Heather’s raucous laughter. One of J.J.’s friends had been imitating their swim team coach, and all the kids were cracking up. Jill was too worried to join in. She didn’t see Una or Mrs. Smith and was afraid to search for them by herself.
She wanted Charles to come with her, but he was surrounded by flushed and happy adults who couldn’t stop touching him. He was hugged, kissed, and patted on the back. Grandmas squeezed his cheeks. His mother adjusted his yarmulke.
Jill wondered what it would feel like to be lavished with so much affection. Would she ever do something to earn that kind of praise and attention? She doubted it.
She flashed back to earlier in the week, when her mother had taken her to the mall. Jill had been so excited to try on dresses. Despite her fears about the party, she still held on to her fantasy of enchanting Aaron.
Inside Macy’s, the rows and rows of glittering colorful dresses were like wishes waiting to be granted. If Jill chose the right one, her wish might come true.
“That won’t look good on you,” her mother had said when Jill had run her hand down a purple sequined number. “Your shoulders are two wide to go strapless.”
For every dress Jill admired, her mother had found something about Jill’s body that wouldn’t work. Her waist was too doughy. Her thighs were too thick. Her hips were too curvy.
Finally, her mother had picked out several dresses and told her to go try them on.
The moment she’d felt the white satin dress slide over her tanned skin, Jill had known it was perfect. It hugged her on top and the gauzy, tiered skirt floated around her legs like the bell of a jellyfish.
She didn’t need to try on anything else. She’d found her dress.
“Let me see,” her mother had commanded.
Jill hadn’t wanted to leave the sanctuary of the fitting room. In that space, she was beautiful.
“Come on,” her mother had urged. “I have things to try on, too.”
Jill had stepped out and done a twirl. That was how confident she’d felt in that dress.
“It’s a little short,” her mother said. “Try the pink one. It’ll cover more of your legs.”
Turning to the mirror, Jill had examined her reflection. “I like it.”
“Well, I don’t think you should wear—”
Something inside Jill snapped. She’d rounded on her mother and screamed, “Just forget it! I don’t want to do this anymore! You’re mean! You’re mean and I hate you!”
She’d gone back into the fitting room, changed into her shorts and T-shirt, and stormed out of the store. Her mother had called after her, but Jill didn’t stop until she reached the car. She slid into the back seat and sobbed. Her mother had comeout twenty minutes later with a garment bag in her arms. She scolded Jill for causing a scene.
Jill hadn’t replied. She hadn’t looked at her mother or asked her what she’d bought. She’d stared out the window and willed her mother to start the car and take her home.
She’d barely spoken to her since. Even when her mom presented her with the white satin dress, she’d only mumbled a thank-you. It had taken Una telling her that she was beautiful to restore the feeling she’d had in the Macy’s fitting room.
I wish I was Jewish, she thought now as a waiter handed her a sliver of cake with alternating layers of chocolate and vanilla and a cookie shaped like a gun.
Normally, Jill would devour the treats right away, but she was too worried about Una.
Just as she was looking for a place to leave her plate, the music came to a screeching stop.
“FIRE!” a woman near the DJ shrieked. She pointed to the upper deck.
Jill hurried across the dance floor to the aft seating area. Looking up, she saw a black cloud shift against the dark sky. She smelled smoke but couldn’t see the fire.
A high-pitched squeal burst though the speakers and then the captain began to speak. He told the elderly, parents with young children, and guests who couldn’t swim to proceed to the lifeboats in an orderly manner.
