Constant Pull (9 page)

“Don’t you have that one that you wore to my cousin’s wedding?” he interrupted
. He was talking about that same dress.

I stared at him blankly.

“Snap out of it, Mel.” He laughed, walking past me into the house. “Let’s go. Wheel of Fortune is on all the time.”  He looked over at the TV for a moment and guessed the puzzle. “National Football League. I’ll never understand why people reserve their free spin.

“How about this
: You come with me, and we’ll go get you a dress-on me. That wedding was like three years ago anyway. You probably need a new dress. I’m guessing you have just the one, right?”

Still, I stared at him
. I was thinking
yes
but I doubt I moved my head enough to say that to him. Well, I kept a couple of my mother’s dresses but to wear one of those would be weird. We probably had enough weird for today. Then my thoughts were interrupted again thanking God that I happened to shave my legs today. No spastic makeup application and hair smoothing is complete if you have hairy legs.

“C
ome on, pop your shoes on. You don’t need anything else.”

I robotically walked over to my black steel toed work boots and put my bare feet in them
. I thought I heard him chuckle.

He opened the doorwall and waved his hand outside
. “Your motion light is burned out. Where do you keep the replacement bulbs?” 

“Kitchen cupboard
. The top one on the upper right.”

“
OK, I’ll go grab one. Be right back.” 

As he walked away, I started toward the bathroom
.

“AND DON’T GO TO THE BATHROOM!” he called from the kitchen
.

I rolled my eyes and relaxed my posture feeling defeated and pretty nervous.

He re-appeared quickly, smiling, with a light bulb in his hand.

“Come-on, Melly
.” He knew I hated that nickname. I gave him a smirk in protest. He turned the TV off, grabbed my hand and pulled me outside, screwing in the new light bulb from the step. We never locked the back doorwall and he knew that. We walked down the steps of the deck and over to his truck.

“Did you have dinner yet?” he asked.

“No.” I said quietly, remembering that the microwave beeped just as Kevin came to the door.

“We’re going out
. On me.”  He announced.

All I could focus on was thinking that he thought I was bat shit crazy and how this would affect our relationship
. I would be devastated to lose him as a friend. I had so few and he was-well, he was my favorite. I guess that would make him my best.

“Why?” I managed to choke out, although it sounded more like a demand.

“Because.” He replied. “Because no one looking like that should be staying at home. And I don’t want you to say a word because I’ve already decided.”  He smacked my left knee on the side facing him with the back of his hand. He seemed suddenly cheerful and his tone convinced me not to argue.

We drove over to the city of Troy where they had a pretty fancy mall
. It had a walkway over the main road to connect the north side of the mall to the south side. My mother used to dress up when we would go there-which was about twice.

Kevin called Nordstrom on the way over and asked for a personal shopper
. I had no idea what that was. He had to do some fast talking given the short notice. I felt responsible and I was tragically uncomfortable. I must have been rubbing my hands together too much because Kevin playfully wiggled my hands with his phone-free hand at the stoplight.

“We just need about 10 moderate dresses to choose from appropriate for a nice dinner out or
-a wedding. Size 8 or 10.” He looked over at me for confirmation. I nodded quickly. He spoke so easily to the woman-like they’d known each other for years. He was very good with people.

Marcy, my personal shopper
, I gathered from what I could hear-didn’t have any appointments so she was able to be ready in the next 30 minutes. I guess most of the people who need personal shoppers don’t shop on Thursday nights so it worked out.

We arrived at the mall and parked in the structure
. Kevin grabbed a hanging plastic-covered bag from the back seat and flung it over his arm. I didn’t feel like asking what it was. We headed in. The parking structure echoed the sound of my work boots clomping into the store. I didn’t bother to tie them. Kevin picked up his phone again.

“
What size shoes do you wear?” he asked as he tapped his phone with his thumb.

Rather than object, I just answered
. “8”

“Hello, Marcy Please
. Marcy, it’s Kevin Banner again. One last thing. We’ll need some heels-not too high. Size 8. That would be perfect. We’re heading in now so we’ll see you in just a few minutes. Thanks again, Marcy. Bye.”

I’m told it’s a gift
that I don’t normally care what people think. Clearly, when I had elaborate makeup on, it was an exception. A very noticeable and very awkward exception. Kevin must have noticed too because he would rub my back every so often as we walked. I could feel the skin from his hand through one of the holes in the back of my T-Shirt. He was trying to soothe me, I think. I looked down almost the entire time.

I was walking through the glossy and impeccable floors of Nordstrom, heading toward the escalator in my Superman fleece pajama pants, steel toed work boots, and a holey T-shirt
. In contrast to my glamour style makeup with a seriously smoky eye and rosie peach colored lips. This was the first time I’d ever let the public-or any person other than my mother-see me with this much makeup on. My insides squished as I imagined every eye in the place sizzling on me. In reality, I’m sure not one single person bothered to look, but I didn’t dare to check.

When we got to the back of the store, in the personal shopping area, Marcy was ready for us
. She was a petite lady, about sixty or so. Her hair was mostly gray but pulled back into a sophisticated, loose bun. She wore a black skirt that narrowed at the knee with a shiny white blouse that poofed poetically at the wrist above a French cuff that closed with shiny black buttons. Her necklace was long and silver with many strands overlapping. On her wrist was a coiled green stretchy key holder with a few keys hanging from it. She smiled broadly and held her hand out to shake each of our hands.

“I’m very happy to meet you both
. I’ve set up a dressing room with some beautiful selections for you.” She said.

Kevin looked at me, and seemed to be assessing me
. I glanced at him but was pretty much not locking eye contact because I was still super uncomfortable.

“Marcy” he said “could I ask you to hang this up for me?” He said, handing her the bag draped over his arm. “Miss Mel here doesn’t like to be choosy so I figure I’ll narrow down the selection for her since I know her very well and I know she won’t try on 10 dresses.” he said with a smile.

For some reason, I felt lighter. It was a comfort to know that someone knew me well enough to be comfortable narrowing down my selection. It was also smart because I’m sure some of these dresses were very expensive and I would feel awful if I accidentally chose one of those.

Last time I walked into Nordstrom I was about six and I had a white dress on with tiny pink roses all over it with my new white tights
. I remembered my mother whispering ‘your father would kill me’ every so often as she looked at the price tags. She ended up buying a dress on clearance that she wore for years. It was layer upon layer of black chiffon that fell to the knee. She loved it. I remembered her perfume, the fancy stuff that she would only wear when they went out. I remembered that I would cry when I would smell it because it meant that I was going to be staying with a babysitter.

“I’ll sit over here.” I mumbled. I sat in the chair that my mother used to call
the husband chair
outside the dressing room.

Kevin followed Marcy into the dressing room
. I overheard Kevin make a few comments and smiled to myself a little. He spent the next ten minutes narrowing down the dresses to remove the fussy ones, anything he thought would be too scratchy, and anything with too much pink.

He came to get me while Marcy removed the discarded dresses with a smile
. I wondered if she thought Kevin was some overbearing boyfriend who had to pre-check my dress choices. He didn’t seem to care what she thought; he never explained himself.

I walked into the mammoth dressing room on my tip toes to avoid the clonk of my work boots on the camel colored carpet
. The walls were a peachy taupe color and the room was lit mostly with indirect lights and had many mirrors. The mirrors were not the normal dressing room kind. These had ornate frames.

On the far wall, on padded hangers hanging from brass hooks, I saw three dresses hanging up
. One of them was a pale purple, the second was solid black, and the third was a layered shiny gray with open black lace on the top. I walked directly toward the last. I thought it was the most beautiful, most classy dress I’d ever seen. It was deep gray on the bottom layer with a kind of shine to it. The top layer was a loosely patterned, non-uptight black lace. I looked back at Kevin and he had an indulgent smile on his face. As Marcy walked in, he stepped out and she closed the door.

She narrated as I touched the lace
. “It’s just lovely, isn’t it?  It’s a cap sleeved scalloped V-neck dress with a wraparound waistband. The V neck is both front and back. The hem is scalloped as well and falls right at the knee. Just beautiful.”

“Can I try it on?” I asked, feeling like I needed permission.

“Of course!”  She said brightly.

Marcy removed it from the hanger and unzipped it, getting it ready for me to step into
. “If you would prefer that I leave, I’m happy to, or I can help you to try it on.”  I tried to quickly remove my bare feet from my work boots and rub my toes on the brown, soft carpet to hopefully remove any leather chips stuck to my feet while she was distracted, arranging the dress for me to step into.

“I’m
OK if you stay. He’s my friend, he was surprising me. I wasn’t planning on this.” I explained. Hoping it would defend my pajama pants.

“Such a nice surprise
. And you had your makeup and hair done as well. Was that part of the surprise?”  I nodded. Why over-explain. I wasn’t totally lying.

“He’s a very nice man
. It’s not too often we get men around here.” She smiled.

A man
. I never thought of him that way. I always figured he was a guy, not a man. My Dad was a man, but not Kevin. My stomach twanged, so I decided to concentrate on the dress. God I hope it fit. I would feel like such a tool if they had to get the next two sizes up or call another store. Or if I ripped the damn thing.

Marcy spoke up
, “I already asked my assistant to have the size above each of these dresses and the size below waiting at the desk-just in case.”

“Wow, you’re good.” I said.

“Well, you never know with all these manufacturers.” She said with a smile.

I stepped into the dress, expecting to feel the lace slightly itchy
. It didn’t happen. The satiny gray bottom layer was all I felt and it was as smooth as I could ever imagine.

“My goodness, this dress really shows off your beautifully toned arms.” She said.

“Thanks. I do a lot of heavy lifting.” I replied, absentmindedly. I was so distracted by trying not to rip this gorgeous dress. I was certain it wouldn’t fit. By some miracle, the dress zipped.

“Is it tight?  It feels tight.”  I said, worried.

“Oh my goodness no, it’s a textbook perfect fit, actually. It will feel tighter than loungewear, but that is to be expected since it’s more formal attire.” She said.

I think that was the nicest possible way to say ‘it’s not tight dummy, you were just wearing pajamas so try not to compare the two’.

I turned around to look in the mirror and my posture improved. I loved it. I pushed my stomach out a few times to be sure that if I ate too much, I wouldn’t tear it. As I surveyed myself in the dress, Marcy answered a knock at the door. I looked at the reflection in the mirror and saw that my shoe selection had arrived. The lady delivering the shoes whispered that the gentleman in the chair outside the room had narrowed down the selection for me. I laughed a little. Marcy nodded big in understanding.

“How much is this dress?” I whispered, noticing that the price tag was covered with what seemed to be a tiny black heat-sealed bag.

Marcy flashed a mischievous smile. “The gentleman asked that I not tell you any prices.” She said as she set out the shoe choices.

“Right.” I said, appreciative but a little uncomfortable with the answer
. I looked down at my toes as she unpacked the four shoe choices. Three of the four were open toed heels and my toes had chipped polish and looked rough.

“I can’t wear open toed
. My toes look terrible.”

“I can help there
. If you choose an open toed shoe, I have some polish remover and a pretty pink polish in my purse, it won’t be a pedicure, but I’ll fix you right up.