Broken Down: A Novel, page 15
“C’mon,” I said quietly to myself. I was standing in the front yard, leaning against Beth’s house in a place where no one could see me from any of the windows. “Just focus. Keep your eye on the prize.”
The prize being the election, I felt the need to remind myself. That’s the only prize you need to keep your eye on.
After taking a moment to collect myself, I went back inside and slipped into my bedroom before anyone could see me. It was time I got out of my pajamas and got serious about the day. There was a lot that needed to get done before the party, and besides, I needed something to think about that wasn’t Theo, shirtless, with his arm wrapped around me. I got dressed in a pair of leggings and a T-shirt, pulled my hair back into a bun, and stood by the closed door of my room, just breathing.
“You got this,” I whispered, prepping myself for the very real possibility that I was going to walk out and run into either Ursula or Theo—metaphorically, or if that morning was any indication of how the day would go, perhaps literally. But I could handle it. I just had to only talk to the two of them about party stuff. Never let the conversation wander from there.
“I can do that. Easy peasy.”
I let out a strong exhale and then opened the door.
The first thing I saw, when I made my way down the hall, was both Theo and Ursula sitting together in the living room, untangling the lights—a project I’d totally bailed on. They were talking in muted towns, and then Ursula laughed. Hard. She threw her head back and everything, and when she finally managed to take in a breath, she put her hand on Theo’s knee and called him an idiot. Affectionately, of course.
My stomach did a sort of somersault while I watched them, and I made a beeline for the kitchen, where Nicky and Beth were hard at work.
“Okay,” I said. “Tell me what to do. I want to help.”
Beth smiled. “Great! Let’s see, do you know anything about puff pastry?”
I shook my head. “Nope.”
“Nicky will show you,” she said, motioning with her head to where the teenager was hunched over a cookie sheet, laying out triangle shaped pieces of dough. I sidled up next to him.
“What are we doing?”
“Watch me,” he said. “Pigs in a blanket. You take the mini sausages, on the plate there.” He pointed and I handed him one. “And you put it at the corner here, and then you roll it up. Simple.”
“I think I can do that.”
“Good. That’s your job then. I’m going to roll out and cut more of the pastry.”
“Sounds good.”
He smiled up at me. “I noticed you changed. No more puppy pajamas.”
“Well, it seemed time.”
He sighed. “I liked the old outfit better. But you look good in anything.”
I had to laugh. “I haven’t been in the kitchen for five minutes and you’ve already started in on the flirting. That flirtiness is going to get you into trouble one day.”
He shrugged. “It’s already gotten me into trouble. Loads of it.”
“I mean real trouble.” I shifted my tone to a more serious one. “Like, adult world trouble. I’m not trying to be a buzzkill or anything, but let’s just say, once you’re old enough to vote, the whole never giving up the chase thing becomes less cute and more creepy.”
He nodded, and to my great surprise, it seemed like he was actually listening to me. “I see your point.”
“Your mom told me she’s been pushing you to apply for culinary school after you graduate,” I said. “And all I’m getting at is that if you flirt with one of your professors or fellow students like this, they might not think it’s charming.”
“But you think it’s charming, don’t you?”
I smirked and heard Bethany make a noise from where she was standing by the stove. “Only because you still have a baby face and it looks like you cut yourself shaving this morning.” I rubbed my own cheek to indicate where I saw a little scratch on his.
His face turned red. “I was hoping no one would notice.”
“See!” I said. “That. That right there, the honesty, the embarrassment, that’s way more charming than the pick-up lines and the flirty looks. You should show that side of yourself more.”
“You like this guy?” He pointed to himself with an expression that screamed Yeah, right. “You like the guy who has two chest hairs and can’t lift with weights that are heavier than twenty pounds? No way.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say I like him,” I clarified. “But I would’ve liked him when I was your age. Girls your age will like him too, I promise.”
He just laughed. “Yeah, sure, we’ll see about that.”
I went back to rolling up sausages in pastry puff, and Beth took over.
“It’s true,” she said. “My Vincent was shy. He could barely even ask me out, he was so nervous. It was really endearing. I liked him right away, but only because he couldn’t look me in the eye.” She came around to inspect my work and nodded approvingly at me, then said, “And take Raina here.”
For a second I thought she was going to make a comment about Ethan, but I didn’t recall ever telling her that Ethan was shy. Mostly because Ethan wasn’t shy. Not at all.
“She practically hated my son Theo when they first met,” she said, and I felt my own face turning red at the mention of Theo’s name. “And that’s because he was acting all macho, all tough and arrogant. It didn’t work on her.”
She’s saying this like he was trying to ‘work on me.’
I couldn’t tell if she was just telling this story to further underline the point, or if this is what she actually thought was going on with Theo and me.
“But then she saw his softer side,” Beth went on. “She saw that he was sweet and caring, and not at all like the men he works with, and now they’re good friends.”
“Friends,” Nicky laughed. “I have too many friends. All the girls I know are my friends. That’s not exactly what I’m going for when I’m flirting, though, in case that wasn’t clear.”
Beth sighed. “Starting out as friends is also the best foundation for a relationship.”
The timer on the oven dinged, and Beth perked up. “Op! That’s me. Let’s see, what did I put that timer on for again?” She tapped her chin in thought, and Nicky went over to help her get started on another project. I was glad to be left alone for a while. The whole reason I’d come into the kitchen was to avoid any thoughts of Theo. But, of course, where did the conversation naturally steer? Back to me and Theo. It was exhausting, to say the least, and I was thankful when Nicky changed the subject and started talking about what he was going to do after graduation.
I listened, and nodded when appropriate, and made sure to keep my head down and my mind focused on the task at hand.
Pigs in a blanket. That’s all I would allow myself to think about. Anytime my mind would wander, I’d snap it back as quick as I could.
Pigs in a blanket. Pigs in a blanket.
Theo without his shirt on—
NO! Pigs in a blanket.
It was at exactly 1 in the afternoon that I had a revelation. It came after Nicky told me how excited his mom was to attend the party, and how she’d been going through her closet the night before, trying on all the best outfits she had.
I realized I had nothing to wear to a party.
Besides the one black dress I’d brought with me, which was currently dirty and balled up in the corner of Theo’s old bedroom, where I’d been staying, I had nothing else that was even remotely dressy. Damnit. I couldn’t show up to the campaign party in jeans and a T-shirt. People would think I didn’t care. And then they might ask themselves, if she doesn’t care about this whole thing, why should we? I excused myself from the kitchen and went to track down Ursula. Maybe she would have something I could borrow.
I found her alone, no Theo in sight, stringing lights up in the backyard.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey, grab this end,” she said, handing me one end of a string. “Hold it for me while I get this hooked up here.” She reached up and draped the other end of the lights over a plastic hook she’d installed on one side of the awning. “There, okay. Now you can let it go. I’ll tape the ends up underneath the awning flap later so you can’t see them.”
She slapped her hands together and then looked at me. “What’s up? Got another job for me?”
“No, actually, I came out here to ask you—well, first of all, what are you wearing to the party tonight?”
She shrugged. “I have a black skirt somewhere in my closet I think. I was just going to put that on over a black T-shirt.”
My eyes went wide. “A T-shirt? No. You can’t wear a T-shirt.”
“But I always wear T-shirts.”
“Exactly.”
She rolled her eyes. “This is Aria. Everyone dresses casually, all the time. I think it would honestly be a detriment to my campaign if I dressed up too much.”
“No,” I said. “That’s not true. I heard from Nicky himself that his mom has set out to find the nicest clothes she possibly can to wear tonight, and I’m willing to bet she’s not the only one. Don’t you see, this is exactly what we’re trying to do with this campaign, we’re trying to do something new. We’re trying to show the people of Aria that we care about them, and that their lives, that their happiness in this town means something. Anyone can show up in a T-shirt, we’re not going to judge them, but we have to show them that we’re putting in a little effort. Because they are people but you’re the person asking to represent the people.”
She nodded, but then countered, “Isn’t the best way to represent the people to dress like them, act like them?”
“Only if you want to send the message that dressing down is what you think represents them. If you want to make it seem like you don’t think the people of Aria are worthy of nicer things.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?”
“This is my job!” I said. “I am the one who has to think about all the minute details of our campaign and figure out how those details are going to be interpreted by the public. Trust me, no T-shirts. I’m not saying you show up in a ball gown or anything, just, maybe, a dress. Or a nice pantsuit.”
“I am not wearing a pantsuit.”
“A dress it is, then!” I smiled. “Should we go raid your closet? FYI, I might need to look for something I can wear as well.”
She frowned. “We won’t find anything in my closet. When I said I thought I had a black skirt, that was meant to convey that the black skirt is the nicest thing I own. And I’m not even sure I know where it is.”
“Damn,” I said. “Okay. Well. No problem. There has to be a clothing store in town.”
She made a face. “There’s a boutique a few towns over,” she said. “It might take us a while to get there, and I don’t know if it’s a good idea to leave the party setup for that long.”
“That’s it?” I gave her a disbelieving look. “That can’t be it. There’s really no place in Aria that sells clothes?”
She sighed. “There is one place. But it’s a little unconventional.”
I didn’t know what she meant by that, and I didn’t care. “Let’s go.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
“All right,” she said. “But I’m telling you, you’re not going to be happy once we get there.”
17
“A costume shop?”
We were standing in a massive warehouse type space, with rows and rows of elaborate costumes, all draped in see-through plastic, lining the walls and stretching out on racks in front of us.
“I told you you weren’t going to like it.”
“Hi there!” A cheery middle aged woman came around from behind the checkout counter to our left. “How can I help you two ladies?”
“We’re, uh,” I started to say. “Well, this is a little strange, but we are actually looking for outfits that we can wear to a party. We would need them soon. Like, now. The party’s tonight.”
“A costume party?”
I opened my mouth to say something, but Urs cut me off. “Pretty much. At least, I’m going to feel like I’m wearing a costume, since this one over here says I can’t wear my normal clothes.”
The woman frowned. “I don’t—”
“Ignore her,” I said. “We need dresses.”
“I have a lot of those,” she said. “Do you want 1920s, or 1950s maybe? I’ve got Marilyn dresses, I’ve got short '60s style dresses. I even have a dress that looks exactly like the one Cher wore to the Oscars years ago. Very scandalous, if that’s what you’re going for.”
“That is the opposite of what we’re going for, but thank you anyway,” I said. “Maybe for Halloween, but right now we just need dresses that will… make us look good. Classy.”
She eyed both of us and said, “I can do that. Follow me.”
She disappeared behind one of the racks, given she was quite short, and we quickly ran after her, finding ourselves in the back where there were two dressing ‘rooms’ sectioned off with just large hanging sheets of fabric.
“You two take your clothes off,” she said. “I’ll pull some options and be back in a flash.”
We shared a look, then got into our respective dressing rooms and undressed.
“I want to go on record saying this is all your doing,” Ursula said to me through the curtain that separated us. “I was fine with the outfit I picked out, so if I end up looking ridiculous in some 1950s, poodle-skirt get-up tonight, I’m blaming you.”
“This is not my fault. This is the town’s fault for being so darn small and isolated. I still can’t believe this is the closest clothing store.” I huffed. “Where do you go when you need to buy just normal clothes? I thought for sure there’d be a Target around.”
“There’s one about twenty miles out of Aria,” Urs replied.
“That’s not so far,” I said. “We probably should’ve gone there.”
“If we hurry, we could leave now—” she started to say when the shop owner interrupted her.
“I’m back. Now, let’s see, which one of you is in which? I’m looking for the shorter girl.”
“That’s me,” I said.
She drew back the curtain, apparently not worried about seeing me in my bra and underwear. She smiled and handed me an armful of dresses. “It’s '60s for you dear, but before the style went all flower-power. The moment I saw you, I thought that girl needs a short dress with big buttons and go-go boots.”
I could barely contain my laughter. “Go-go boots?”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I found muted colors, so it’s just the cut of the dresses that’s '60s. You’ll look amazing, trust me.” She closed the curtain and went to give Urs her clothes.
“For you, lovely,” I heard her say, “I’ve got a few things. First, a 1930s style dress, that hits mid-calf and I think will show off your curves like you’ve never seen.”
Urs laughed. “I’m going for classy, not sexy.”
“Why can’t you be both?” she asked, and Urs seemingly didn’t have a counter argument. “Try that one on first; I think it’ll be the one.”
I looked at my own haul and picked through the dresses. There were two, right on top, that I knew I wouldn’t like. One was mustard yellow, which would be horrendous against my skin tone, and the other was way too short. I was fine with showing leg, but I had to draw the line at dresses that would show my underwear if I even so much as lifted an arm.
The third dress in the pile was dark blue in color, with white buttons and a white sailor’s collar. It wasn’t ‘my style’ per se, but it was cute and long enough that I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone catching a glimpse of my underthings. I slipped it on and found that it fit like a glove.
“Come out,” said the woman. “I want to see what you two look like!”
I walked out from behind my curtain first, followed soon after by Urs.
“Oh my God!” I said when I got a look at her. “Ursula, you look fantastic.”
She grinned. “I know, right? I was not expecting this at all, but I think this is the best I’ve ever looked. Too bad I didn’t have this dress when we did the photo shoot at the farm.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, trying to sound genuine. “Too bad.”
Thank God. If Theo saw her in that dress, backed by the evening sunlight… I didn’t even want to think about it.
“You look great too!” she said. “That style is really cute on you!”
“I don’t know. The buttons and the collar, you don’t think it’s too much?”
“It’s perfection,” said the woman. She stood between us, beaming. “I’ve done it. I always do it.”
“Do what?”
She shot me a knowing look. “I was a costume designer for 30 years on Broadway before moving back here and opening this shop. I know how to dress people. I know what they will look good in, and I know what will make their personalities shine through. You may think the buttons and the collar are too much, but I think they match you perfectly.”
Urs laughed. “Why? Because she’s a little too much?”
I frowned. “Rude.”
“No,” the woman corrected Urs. “But I could tell from the moment you two walked in, that this one”—she pointed to me—“had an unexpected confidence to her, that she was normally unfazed but could be plucky when she needed to be. Like that dress—its color is muted, it says Don’t mind me, I’ll be over here. But the accents on the dress say, But if you do decide to come over and talk to me, just know, I’m no wallflower.”
Urs smirked. “Do the buttons say she’s a hair puller, because guess what? She is.”
“That’s exactly what they say!” the woman agreed with Urs, and I scoffed. “That dress says I’m not going to come after you, but if you come after me, just watch out.”
“Who knew a dress could say so much?” I said, slicing sarcasm into my tone of voice.
