Page 41 of Sugar Coated Lies
We talk about college and my degree, but he gets a call and excuses himself.
I don’t mind. I’d been ready to get back to work. I don’t often stretch my lunch break to the last minute.
* * *
Friday night is herebefore I know it.
When I get home, Carol insists on staying to feed Grandpa dinner, so I can take my time getting ready. I shower off the day’s work, curl my hair into soft waves, and do my makeup, saving the hardest part for last: figuring out what to wear.
I fish three dresses out of the closet in the bedroom but can’t decide which fits the occasion. If Sadie were here, she could help me decide. Hell, she could come as my emotional support animal.
“Carol?” I call out to her.
“One sec,” she replies and appears behind me a moment later.
“Daire said to dress casual, but I have a feeling my version of casual and his and his family’s version aren't the same.”
“Hmm?” She taps her chin, her lips pursed as she eyes the dresses. Two are hung on the closet doors and the other I hold in my hand.
“The blue sundress matches your eyes, which is lovely, and I like the checkered navy dress too, but red is a great color on you. Makes you stand out.”
“I don’t know if I want to stand out. I don’t even know if any of these are fancy enough. They’re sundresses.” I could wear the floral one again, but I haven’t washed it and it takes forever to iron. I don’t have time for either.
“I’ll wear the red.” The material is nicer than the others and it fits me well. My concern about the low plunge in the back can be fixed with a cardigan, even though it’s not chilly and rather humid. At least it looks less like a daytime dress.
I change quickly and enter the kitchen, where Carol stands near the sink.
“How do I look?” I ask Carol.
It’s already later than I planned to leave.
“You look beautiful.” She fluffs my hair over my shoulders. “He’s going to love you.”
I make a face. “I’m not going on a date,” I reiterate. “It’s a dinner at his parents’ house.”
“Whose parents’ house?” Grandpa grumbles from his recliner.
“My bo—er—Daire. You met him, remember? I work with him at the pecan farm.”
His white brows pull together with thought. “The tall fellow?”
“That’s the one.”
“Is he taking you out?”
“No. I have a work-dinner.”
“Make sure he buys you flowers. Tell him I said so. Your grandma loves flowers.”
I tense. Is he slipping into the past again? Does he think she’s alive? Will he get angry when we tell him she’s not here?
Carol takes his near empty dinner plate from the TV tray. “How about I get you a slice of pecan pie for dessert? Would you like that?”
“Pecan pie is my favorite.” Grandpa smiles and blinks at me. “You look nice, Emma. Where are you off to? Another school dance?”
Oh no. He thinks I’m mom again. Instead of arguing with him, I try another technique that has worked in the past.
“Thank you.” I kiss his cheek. “I won’t be out late. You take care now and enjoy your pecan pie. I made it fresh this morning.”
