Page 5 of Suits and Spark Plugs

“The usual,” I replied, having given it little thought.

“Hmm.” Mom’s tone sounded unimpressed enough that I decided I’d need to Google some fancy makeup and hairstyle tips.

She flung open her closet doors and reached to the back where her dresses were hung in plastic covers. She handed a few to me, which I laid on the bed with hungry eyes. In the end there were three to choose from. All of them were worthy of a night at the theatre. Mom quickly pulled the plastic covers off and set them to the side.

“They might be a little dated. I haven’t dressed up for quite a while.” Her tone and expression were apologetic, and I hurried to soothe her worries.

“These are classics, Mom. They don’t go out of style. Which should I wear?” I fingered the hem of a blood red dress with some tasteful beading on the bodice.

“With your black hair and fair skin, I think something bold would be a good choice. I’d go with that red you’ve got your hand on, or maybe this emerald green.” Mom held up a second choice. “Of course, you can never go wrong with a black cocktail dress.” She pointed to one lying across the head of the bed.

“What would you wear?”

Mom’s lips pursed as she looked over each choice, occasionally darting a glance back at me. “Go with the emerald,” she said at last. “It’ll pull out the green in your eyes and make them pop.”

I picked up the long emerald dress and held it up to see how it fell. It had a wrap style top that tied at the waist and draped down to my ankles. It would be elegant without being gaudy, and I loved it.

“I have to go now, honey. Will you put the others back in my closet? And make sure to take a picture of yourself before you go. I wish I could...” Mom trailed off, the sadness returning to her eyes. It seemed like the look was becoming more and more permanent every day.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take a picture, and I’ll have a wonderful time.” I made the dress do a little dance in front of me. “Thank you so much. Now go sneak into work before your boss gets there. It’s fun living on the edge, but only until you get caught.” I smiled and was glad when she returned the look.

“Love you, Olivia.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

Mom left the room, and I quietly went about the work of storing her dresses in their plastic and gently hanging them in her closet again. I heard her car start up and pull away. The house was quiet. In the stillness I noticed the comforting smell of Mom’s perfume and the more subtle scent of her hand lotion. I remembered sitting as a little girl with my legs tucked under me on the bathroom counter, watching her get ready. Dad would come in and kiss her neck and tell her she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Those were happier times, but to me she still was the most beautiful woman in the world, even if she’d somehow forgotten.

* * * * *

I was in absolute heaven. Incredible music swirled around me in the darkness as an actress sang her dramatic solo in the single spotlight on the stage. I leaned forward in my seat, taking in the oranges of her dress, the way the light sparkled off her jewels, the blacks and purples behind her. My hands clenched in the folds of Mom’s emerald gown as I imagined how silky soft the fabric of the performer’s dress must be, hoping to use my paintbrushes to replicate the way it folded down to the floor. I wanted to capture it all in my mind.

She reached a crescendo, and the small hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention. My heart pounded and I had to swallow hard. I’d never heard anything like this. In the darkness of the theatre it seemed as though her voice filled every corner. Sure, I’d heard music, but there was something about being there in person that doubled the experience. Unfamiliar, and long repressed, pure emotion rose, making the back of my throat tickle.

Blaine’s light sound of amusement, followed by his hand taking mine, pulled me out of the trance. I looked to see his bright eyes shining at me. “You’re darling,” he said.

He may as well have drizzled a melting ice cube down the back of my dress. Oddly embarrassed to have been caught in that unguarded moment of bliss, I sat back in my seat. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“If I’d have known how much you’d like your first time at the theatre, I’d have taken you weeks ago.”

“What makes you think this is my first time?” I asked.

“Don’t be insulted, Olivia. You’re incredibly adorable over there, soaking it all in.” He squeezed my hand in his.

I had a lot of thoughts about that comment, but the main one was that I didn’t love being called adorable or darling in this context. It felt insulting.

My posture tightened. “Would you rather I pretended to be bored?”

His eyes were questioning even as his smile remained perfectly in place. “No, no. I want you to enjoy yourself.”

“Then don’t be condescending about it,” I mumbled. It occurred to me that he’d never seen me cross before, and he was probably as surprised about that as I was to discover that he could be patronizing.

“I’m not trying to be. It’s just that it’s fun to watch you take pleasure in something new.”

I took a breath and smiled back at him. I was probably overreacting. The fact was, I was a little embarrassed to find out he’d been watching me while I let myself sink into the performance. My reaction to it had practically been a spiritual thing, and for someone as habitually private as me, it felt unnerving to share that with someone else, even if that person was someone I was forming a relationship with.

I continued to hold his hand but crossed my ankles and did my best to keep my expression neutral as the actress finished her song. Some of the magic had been lost, but the picture would stay in my mind. I hoped to transfer it to canvas before I forgot the small details.

When the show was over, Blaine escorted me a few blocks down to a nice restaurant where he held out my chair. His warm hands skimmed over my shoulders lightly before he sat next to me.

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