Page 52 of Summer Reading

“Did it?”

“No, more like jaundiced.” She pulled something wrapped in plastic out of the depths and draped it across the bed. “But with your coloring, you will look amazing.”

I put my tea down and pushed the plastic aside. The dress was cherry red, and it looked like it was designed to hug every curve. I looked from it to her.

“This is some dress, Em,” I said. “And you’re wrong. You could totally wear this dress, and you would blind men you’d be so hot.”

She flushed with pleasure and laughed. “Thank you, but I don’t think it fits my personality. Try it on.”

“If you’re sure,” I said. I noticed the tags were still on it. “You could always sell it.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to. I think this dress was just waiting for you.”

“All right,” I said. I slipped off my clothes while Em took the dress off its hanger and lowered the zipper. She handed it to me and I pulled it over my head, letting it fall into place. Em gently zipped up the back.

“Oh, Sam,” she said.

I could tell without even looking that the dress fit me to perfection. I stepped in front of the full-length mirror and glanced at my reflection. The soft red fabric hugged my curves without appearing to be sausage casing fighting a losing battle. Sleeveless with a scoop neckline, the dress was simple but flared out at mid-thigh, making it flirty instead of severe. Given my usual boxy chef attire, I felt like an onion that’d been peeled to its core.

“Wow,” I said. “I’d forgotten I even have breasts.”

Em laughed. “And then some.”

I turned to face her. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She sighed. “This reminds me of all those summer nights when we’d get dressed up in our skinny jeans and halter tops and hang out at the arcade. Remember what Twihards we were?”

“But only for the movie,” I said. Then I flashed a peace sign. “Team Edward.”

“Forever.” She put her hand over her heart.

I glanced at her where she stood sipping her tea and smiling at me, and her bright white neck bandage caught my attention.

“Hey, Em,” I said. “My other question was, What did Dr. Ernst mean about the biopsy and your situation?”

She put her hand on her neck, self-consciously covering the bandage.

“Sorry, I know it’s none of my business, but that is the second question I wanted to ask you. Well, it’s really the first, but I was trying to ease you into a sharing place,” I said. “What’s going on? How likely is it that you have cancer? How worried should I be?”

“Don’t be worried,” she said. “I appreciate the concern, I do, but there was just a weird lump in my neck, the size of a lima bean, and I asked Dr. Ernst to biopsy it just to be sure it isn’t anything to be worried about. I’m sure it’s nothing, and in a few days, that will be confirmed.”

She didn’t look sure of anything of the kind. Rather, she looked terrified.

“Oh, Em, how can I be so selfish talking about a stupid date when you have big, bad life stuff happening?” I asked.

“Are you kidding?” she asked. “This is great. You got me out of my own head for a while, and I really needed that.”

I stepped close and hugged her.

“You’ll tell me if it’s something serious?” I asked. Irested my chin on her shoulder, the one on the unbiopsied side. “Promise me?”

“I promise,” she said.

We stood together for a moment, silently appreciating the lifelong friendship we shared.

“All right,” Em said. She broke the hug by stepping back. “That’s enough. Now we need to talk about your hair.”

“My hair?” I asked. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

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