Chapter 81
When Mama proudly presents me with my Small Woman costume at our final dress rehearsal, I gasp when I glimpse the neon yellow top and the bright red bottom.
She screams back that it’s a beautiful dress. I tell her I’m going to look like a small bug in it, and she tells me not to speak so rudely.
“I did not raise you to talk that way, young lady,” she says with a pointed stare. “Now put on the dress and let’s take a look.”
It’s just as I suspected. I look like a cross between an ant and a bumblebee.
“That is not true,” Mama says.
“Billowy red skirt, skimpy black and gold striped top. Ant and bumblebee, Mama.”
After a few alterations, it’s no better. Mama skulks away, muttering something about Small Woman being beautiful, and I sigh.
When I get up on the stage to rehearse, I forget my lines. Millie, the director, admonishes me that tomorrow is opening night, there will be a full house, and I better not forget then. I apologize as Mama brings out the script to me with a glare.
“I told you,” I say to the leper now-turned beauty. “I told you he’d love you anyway. He always has, and it’s not the looks. It’s what’s inside you.”
Right, it’s not the looks. Why would the whole play be based around how she’s improved her external appearance if it doesn’t matter?
Mama frowns at me when I tell her this. She tells me to go home and get some sleep, saying I clearly need it.
So I drive home, feeling lonely, feeling sad, and cursing Queen Austen and the fact that I agreed to be in it.
My phone rings as I’m pulling into my driveway.
“Macey!” Mrs. Rattles sounds out of breath and raspy.
“Are you all right? You sound sick.”
“Just a small case of pneumonia. Nothing that a few pills won’t fix.”
“Pneumonia! Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
Now that most of the wedding pieces are in place, Mrs. Rattles has surged back into the forefront, not wanting to be left out.
“There’s no time for bed when my daughter’s about to get hitched!” Mrs. Rattles enters into a coughing fit that lasts for over a minute. I know because I’m staring at the clock on my dashboard.
“I’m fine, really,” she says finally. “Now, the wedding’s just over a week away. In terms of the flowers…”
“Gin told me about them being short on daffodils. Not a problem. I’ll stop by the store later and pick out…”
“Unbelievable, these people,” she says, cutting me off. “They don’t know anything, do they? I bet Gigi isn’t having our problems!”
I’m sure she’s not.
I go inside and deal with the flowers. And I write.
But I toss and turn all night.
When I wake up the next morning, I’ve got dark circles under my eyes. Just the look I’m going for when I get up on stage tonight. Luckily, Riley’s agreed to do my makeup beforehand.
I sit at my desk in the liquor room with my laptop in front of me all morning and write my novel.
I’m trying not to be nervous. But I am nervous even though I only have a couple of lines. Mama’s terrified I’m going to humiliate her even though she’s never said as much out loud. And I don’t want to let her down.
As I walk into Hair ‘N Nails, I realize I’m the last one here.
Mama waves at me wildly. “Mace! Over here, baby!”
Riley’s sitting at Mama’s feet, giving her a pedicure, and Freedom has her face buried in a magazine while Riley’s colleague, Trudy, paints Free’s fingernails.
I kiss Riley on the head as I pass her. “What’s up?”
“Nothin’ new. Wink’s still an asshole.”
Mama holds up the book she’s reading.
“Sense and Sensibility?” I nod. “Good choice.”
“This one took us forever to get through, Mace. Do you remember?”
Oh, I think so.
I was thirteen, and Daddy was gone. My reading sessions with Mama went off course when I said I preferred Eleanor, and Mama said she just loved Marianne.
I kept thinking Marianne reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t quite place who.
I knew it was someone irrational and romantic in a nonsensical way.
Mama was so excited to help me solve the mystery that she kept guessing different girls in my class. I said no to all of them. All I knew is it was someone that gets under my skin in the worst way and who has no thought for anyone else. With a gasp, I realized she reminded me of Mama.
Mama was so mad she stormed off and refused to let us finish the book.
We couldn’t touch it for three whole months.
Of course, she wouldn’t return the book to the library either, so by the time she forgave me and begrudgingly let me convince her that Marianne’s good traits of spunkiness and passion outweighed her negative ones, we owed the Darcy Public Library over forty dollars in late fees.
But that’s what Mama got for holding a grudge against her own daughter.
I nod at Mama now. “Yes, but we finally finished it, didn’t we?”
Free grabs her hand away from Trudy impatiently. “I’m done.”
“Not yet you’re not.” Trudy takes her hand back. “Five more minutes.”
Mama twists to face me, and I admire her lipstick and mascara.
“Mama, your makeup looks great. Riles, you did a nice job.”
A hell of a lot better than Mama’s makeup usually looks.
“Didn’t she?” Mama beams.
Riley looks like she’s wondering why she invited us here in the first place. She stands up and wipes her hands. “All set, Mama! You look gorgeous.”
Mama exhales. “Mace, you take my seat, honey. I’m going to grab a coffee and be right back.”
I sit down and take off my sandals. “Will the nail polish last until Gin’s wedding?”
“Of course,” Riley says. “If it happens not to, come in again day before or something.”
Mama pauses on her way out the door. “Oh, Mace, what are you doing for your birthday this year? Anything special?”
“Just trying to get my best girlfriend down the aisle. A happy Ginny is really all I want this year.”
“You sure about that?” Riley says to me.
“Absolutely.”
Free turns to Riley once Mama’s gone. “So are you going to keep calling Wink or what? I think you need to move on from that cheating asshole. He dumped you, remember?”
Riley glares at her. “You don’t understand.”
“Why don’t I?”
Riley’s face contorts like she’s not sure why not, and she answers with, “You’re too young.”
“Right.” Free goes back to her magazine, but she looks up again a moment later. “I understand he’s a dick who’s probably screwing some other girl right now. And that’s not enough to never speak to him again?”
Riley stands up, grabs the magazine out of Free’s hands, and marches off to the back office. A door slams.
“Maybe she’s just tired,” Trudy says. “Macey, I’ll do your makeup—I’m all done over here.”