Chapter 29
chapter twenty-nine
Audrey
Today's vocabulary word: transcendent
"This is a nice fit for you," Sharese, the shop owner, said as she clipped the lace dress closed in the back. "Not everyone can pull off the basque waist but you have a good torso."
A good torso. I'd heard a lot of judgments on my body over my years in dance but I couldn't remember good torso hitting the list.
"Thanks, I think," I said with a laugh. I realized then that I could still taste the garlic from my lunch—which meant Sharese could smell it. Maybe it was the everyday urge to apologize for existing but having bad breath made me want to find a vat of acid and disappear into it.
"It's a compliment," Sharese said as she pulled back the dressing room curtain. She gathered up the dress's long train and nudged me down the hallway. "You're going to be a beautiful bride."
"You probably say that to all the girls."
Her chuckle told me I was right. "I've been doing this for twenty-seven years and I'll tell you right now that everything is going to look good on you.
" As we rounded the corner to where Janet sat on the velvet sofa, Sharese announced, "This is from the Hattie Zhou collection.
Ivory hand-sewn lace over an ivory sheath, elegant high neckline, and basque waist."
She positioned me on the platform and fluffed out the skirt around me. Janet clasped her hands under her chin, her eyes wide and smiling. "It's amazing," she breathed.
"Are we thinking veil or headpiece?" Sharese asked.
"Bring both," Janet said.
I told myself Audrey the fiancée would try on both. The fiancée wouldn't panic over a veil.
While Sharese went searching, I stepped off the platform and motioned Janet closer. "Do you have any gum? Or mints? I feel like the guacamole is lingering on me."
"Of course, honey. Just give me a sec." She dug in her purse, coming up with a small tin. As she held it open for me, she asked, "Do you just love it?"
I popped two mints and forced a grin. I had to pull off some serious praise sandwiches here.
Wedge the deflection between the good news.
"It's so special. I love the sleeves. I'm all about the sleeves right now.
The neckline might be a little high for me.
It feels a little serious, you know? But the lace is incredible. It has such an antique feel."
She pointed at me. "You're right. That neck is too much. We don't want the dress to eat you alive."
"That would be nice," I teased.
"My son would never speak to me again if I tried to wrap you up like a mummy." She winked and all I could do was laugh. Maybe I'd put her doubts to rest.
"A veil with matching lace," Sharese trilled as she returned, "and a delicate ribbon headband."
"Let's start with the headband," I said.
"And let's try a few gowns with a little more skin showing," Janet said. "She's such a pretty girl, we need to show her off."
Sharese snapped her fingers. "I have ideas."
Over the next hour, I tried on fourteen more dresses which seemed like a lot of dresses to me.
Some of them came off as quickly as they went on—the bubble hems were a fast no from Janet and Sharese, along with several others with big sculptural elements that made me feel like a cartoon character.
We liked a few of the simple, classic ball gowns and a few other fitted styles, and I survived two veils without diving into the deep end of my feelings.
But my skin was red and welted from changing so many times, and the desert air must've dried me out because my head was fizzy and a little too light.
Janet was having a blast but we'd need to wrap this up after the next couple of picks.
Between the altitude and the desert heat, I felt like I'd tripped and fallen into an air fryer.
And I missed Jude. I didn't know where that thought came from but I knew it was true. There was a comfort in sitting with him in hostile silence. Even if everything was upside down, I didn't have to think so hard with him. Or maybe that was the Stockholm syndrome talking.
"We're calling this shade toasted apricot," Sharese said as she zipped me into another dress. "It's organza with hand-tied silk flowers and a grosgrain ribbon belt."
It reminded me of my friend Emme's first wedding dress, from when she and Ryan eloped last year. I traced the flowers along the bodice. They looked like daisies with tiny seed pearls at the center.
Sharese herded me back to the platform. She and Janet chatted about the details and I went on tracing the flowers.
The pearls felt strange against my fingertip.
Like a million microscopic roller skate wheels.
Like roller skates for ants. Did ants roller skate?
Probably. Why wouldn't they? And the flowers were like tissues—but also cotton candy.
No, wait, hold on. Those flowers were cotton candy. I could eat them. But would they taste like cotton candy or fabric? Or fabric-flavored cotton candy? I had to find out.
In an oblique way, I knew that was strange. Remarkably strange. But the more I clutched at that awareness, the less I felt of it.
"Oh, honey, no," Janet said, pulling my hand away from the bodice. "Only the belt comes off, not the flowers."
"It's okay," I said, leaning in close to her face. "It's cotton candy."
"It's—what?" Janet glanced between me and Sharese who looked like she'd just swallowed a buzzing bee. That would be weird. Like that scene in Pinocchio. What a terrifying movie.
I studied my reflection in the mirrors, shifting to catch a glance at the back of the dress.
"These lights are heavenly," I said. "Do you see my halo?
I have a halo. I think I'm actually an angel.
" I turned to Sharese. "Can you add wings to this dress?
" I patted my shoulders. "Not feathery but like… mermaid. You know what I mean."
"I'm so sorry," she replied. "I don't think I heard you. Did you say you wanted wings?"
Muscle memory wanted me to say no. To apologize and stop talking. But there was woolly static in my head and I felt as though I was trapped in a snow globe while everyone stared at me from the other side. And the words just kept coming out like a magician's handkerchief trick.
"Oh, shit," Janet murmured. "Honey, which of those mints did I give you?"
She dumped her bag on the sofa. It looked like the aftermath of a solid whack to a pinata. I raced toward her to help scoop up everything that'd tumbled out, falling to my knees as I chased lip balms, pens, and small zip pouches.
"Sharese doesn't want us to know this but the sofa is made of vanilla ice cream," I whispered to her.
I giggled, but inside my head I heard What the hell is happening?
Something was wrong—but I also felt incredible.
I never wanted it to stop. "I don't know how it's not melting but the angel lights probably have something to do with it. "
"Excuse me," Sharese sang. "Is everything…all right? Perhaps you'd like to return to the fitting room?"
Janet took my hands in hers. "Audrey, honey, I don't know how to tell you this."
"Is it about the ice cream? Or the roller skates?"
She squeezed her eyes shut, murmuring, "My son is going to kill me."
"No, he won't," I said, wrapping my arms around her. "He loves you so much, Janet. He'd do anything for you. Absolutely anything. Even really crazy shit that I don't understand. Especially the crazy shit. In a way, it's quite unrealistic."
She grinned but it looked like there was something sour in her mouth. "Sweetie, those weren't mints. They were ecstasy tabs."