It Starts Read online

  Still, I stared at him. I was thinking yes, but I doubt I moved my head enough to say that to him. Well, I’d kept a couple of my mother’s dresses, but to wear one of those would be weird. We’d 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.

  “Come 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 door 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 off the TV, grabbed my hand and pulled me outside, screwing in the new light bulb from the step. We never locked the back door, and he knew that. We walked down the steps of the deck and got into his truck.

  “Did you have dinner yet?” he asked as he grabbed the steering wheel.

  “No,” I said quietly, remembering that the microwave had 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.

  “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 to 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 arranged for a personal shopper on the way over. 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 an evening out. Size 8 or 10.” He looked over at me for confirmation. I nodded in a small way without looking back at him. He spoke so easily to the woman—like they’d known each other for years. He was so good with people.

  My personal shopper didn’t have any appointments, so she was able to be ready in the next 30 minutes. I guess most of the people who needed personal shoppers didn’t shop on Thursday nights.

  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. “Eight.”

  “Hello, Marcy, please. Marcy, it’s Kevin Banner again. One last thing. We’ll need some heels—not too high. Size eight. 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.

  Marcy was my personal shopper. 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, 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 all 10 dresses.” He smiled.

  For some reason, I felt lighter. Knowing that someone knew me well enough to be at ease narrowing down my selection was a comfort. 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 and 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 tiptoes 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 weren’t the normal dressing-room kind. These had ornate frames.

  On the far wall, on padded hangers hung on brass hooks, I saw three dresses. 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, classiest 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 p
atterned, 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 as though I needed permission.

  “Of course!” she said brightly.

  Marcy removed the dress 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.” 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 flipped. I decided to concentrate on the dress. God, I hoped 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 distracted by trying not to rip this gorgeous dress. I was certain it wouldn’t fit. By some miracle, though, 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’s 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 woman 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, in a monotone. I was appreciative but a little uncomfortable with the answer. I looked down at my toes as she unpacked the four shoe choices. I picked a black pair of pointy shoes with a sling back and slid them on.

  I stood up and walked. “My goodness, you’re just lovely. Truly,” Marcy remarked.

  I thanked her.

  “Can I see?” Kevin called from the other side of the door, impatience in his voice.

  I wasn’t planning to look at Kevin’s reaction because I thought that would be awkward and too dramatic for my taste. Especially if he was like ‘Um. Next.’ Since he was a trusted friend, I would want him to say that if I looked like crap. But I did catch his expression even though I didn’t mean to. His eyebrows went up.

  “No waaaay! Mel, you are stunning. It’s so perfect. Do you like it?” His hand was just below his mouth, rubbing his chin, which this week was sporting a very short full beard.

  “Yes,” I said. I felt a burning of excitement in my belly. It made me feel silly for a split second. I giggled.

  “You only tried one on, didn’t you?” He laughed.

  I nodded in reply, still beaming.

  Marcy looked at Kevin, and he nodded to her. She cut the concealed tags off my dress and handed them to her assistant. Then, she folded my regular clothes and put them in the fanciest bag those clothes had ever seen. She gave my work boots their own bag as well.

  A few minutes later, I walked out with both my old and new clothes. I looked around for Kevin, but didn’t see him.

  Marcy’s assistant saw me and said, “He’ll be out in just a moment.”

  I sat on the husband chair waiting for him. For the first time, I wondered how much damage I’d done to him financially with this get-up. Then, a new sense of dread washed over me as I realized that he must still be wondering exactly how crazy I was. I bet he was thinking that I probably had an invisible friend or that I talked to my dead mother in the shower because she appeared out of the steam.

  I couldn’t think how I would start. He might not ask, but then again, he was the type who liked to work through things by talking. So, it would be just about shocking if he never mentioned finding me in my full makeup.

  I thought again about telling him the wedding date lie. I wondered if I could say something to make it believable. I couldn’t come up with anything. I kept getting distracted as I reminded myself to pretend I had a book on my head so I would sit up straight.

  I heard a door open, and Kevin appeared in front of me, his sneakers, T-Shirt and jeans under his arm. “Ready?” he questioned, with that same indulgent smile. I looked him over and realized he was wearing a black suit with a gray and black tie.

  “Did you just buy that?” I asked, as he put his clothes in the bag with mine.

  “Oh, no. I actually had it in the car since I wouldn’t have been able to leave work before heading to the theater with Lanie. The fact that it matches your dress is just a coincidence. Kinda funny.” He seemed to feel slightly self-conscious as he dusted himself off.

  I felt relieved. He tucked a receipt in his inside jacket pocket and we waved at Marcy and walked back toward the parking structure. We passed through the Intimates section of the store and Kevin stopped me.

  “Just a sec.” He said. “You’ll need these.”

  He grabbed a pair of fluffy black slippers and walked away, smiling as I tried to stop him.

  “Kevin, it’s too much,” I started.

  “Nah, no way. I don’t want to have to carry you around halfway through the night!” he joked. “One more stop and we’re done. Accessories.”

  We walked over to the accessories and jewelry department. Kevin informed the ladies, since more than one moved into his direction when he walked over to the counter, that I needed a finishing touch. The three ladies inspected me. I managed to stand tall and appear unaffected by their stares, although for a second I wanted to put my plumbing shirt back on, on top of the dress.

  The oldest lady spoke up. “The neckline of that dress is exquisite. What if we used a wrap for your hair and pulled it back to show off the neckline?” She had narrow-framed, black half-glasses hanging from a skinny silver chain on her neck.

  “A wrap?” Kevin asked.

  “Let me show you. It’s a very romantic look.” I blushed and Kevin laughed. I hardly ever blush. The lady held her un-opened half-glasses up to her eyes and rifled through some accessory racks.

  “Hear that, Mel? It’s romantic,” he said. I rolled my eyes with a disapproving look.


  The ladies sat me in a chair by the counter, while they took the opportunity to toss a few smiles in Kevin’s direction and ‘accidentally’ bump into him. The older lady brushed my hair with a side part, and pulled it back into a low knot with the help of the lady from the jewelry counter who informed me that her mother was a hairstylist. Then, they placed a double-stranded, sparkly black rhinestone headband in my hair. It went in the center of my head and tied with a black satin ribbon that she tucked under the knot.

  “I think that’s perfect. I think earrings would be a tad too much. What do you think, honey?” she said to me.

  “Oh my gosh, it’s just beautiful.” The wrap was made up of twin strands of tiny black rhinestones in a detailed pattern with a bumpy and ornate outer edge.

  “When you said head wrap I actually pictured a bandana.”

  She gasped, which Kevin found amusing. “But, Kevin, it’s too much. Really, I’m—”

  “KNOCK IT OFF,” he interrupted. “I love it. You look great. Let’s go out.”

  He handed the lady his credit card and she snipped off the tag.

  “You two have a wonderful evening. You really are a striking pair,” she said. We thanked her.

  That was the perfect thing to say. We were a pair, not a couple. We thanked her again and walked out. My feet were already starting to long for those slippers. Kevin removed them from their packaging and put them in his jacket pocket where they bulged his suit coat and he didn’t care. I smiled to myself.

  We walked outside; it was a beautiful evening. The restaurant nearby made the air smell like grilled steak and something buttery. I couldn’t imagine more perfect weather—or smells. It was about 72 degrees, and the sun was low on the horizon, casting long shadows. As we made our way to the truck, people looked in our direction, smiling. I smiled back, feeling slightly embarrassed but also happy, and excited.