I shut the water off with more force than necessary, and dry myself off vigorously. I wrap my towel around my body and stomp into my room, muttering to myself.
“Cheating ass bastard!” Saying it out loud is weirdly cathartic.
“What was that, Violet?”
I scream and jump awkwardly in the air. My mom’s sitting on my bed! She’s looking at me with a funny little half-frown on her face. Did she hear what I said?
“W-what?! Nothing!” I stammer out, clutching the towel against me. “I was just…rapping. I like to sometimes, when I think I’m alone. What—what are you doing here in my room, on my bed? What’s, uh, going on?”
“I didn’t know you rapped,” Mom says, confused by my babbling. “That’s…weird. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you might want to wear this for dinner.”
She holds up a long dress in a sapphire blue for my inspection. The dress is one of those wraparound styles, with a shimmery leaf pattern embellishing the clingy fabric. It’s very pretty.
My poor mother. She has great taste and loves clothes, and she’s stuck with me, the girl who puts comfort above fashion. Half of the shirts in my closet are from the box of clothes my dad left behind when he dumped us for the ho on that dating site. It’s not that I’m a fashion clown. Right after I lost a bunch of weight, I’ll admit that my outfits tended to be showy and slutty. But after a short while, the thrill of the attention wore off, and now I just don’t care. I got tired of the middle aged guys eye licking me. Pervs.
“It’s nice,” I say to Mom, because she’s beaming excitedly at me. “But I was thinking about wearing jeans and a nice shirt. I don’t want to give your fiancée the wrong impression that I’m some kind of proper young miss. I mean, think of how disappointed he’ll be when he finds out the truth.”
“Hm, you’re probably right. But I’m sure Bill will get over it.” Mom drapes the dress over my crossed arms. “I know you’re going to look so beautiful in it! Did I tell you how much I love your hair? The new color really makes your complexion glow.”
“Thanks.” I sigh quietly. “If I wear a dress, I’ll have to shave my legs.”
Mom tucks a lock a smooth blonde hair behind her ear and looks at me in surprise. “Don’t you shave every day, anyway?”
“Well, yeah, but most days I’m not thorough. I just run the razor over my legs really quick if there’s noticeable stubble. But I don’t check to see if they’re really smooth.”
“Why do they need to be smooth tonight?” Mom asks with a shrug. “Do you plan on anyone touching your legs? I suppose there could be some cute waiters at the restaurant.”
“Mom.” I roll my eyes. “You know I only let valets feel me up. It’s the bow ties.”
Mom grins. “Oh, well, then you’re in luck. We’re going to the Four Seasons. I’m pretty sure the waiters there wear bowties.”
“Ugh! We’re going somewhere fancy? Is this the start of a new trend now that you’re marrying into money? Are we going to have to start pretending we’re classy people?”
“Hey!” Mom points a finger at me, looking hurt. “You don’t need to be rich to be classy. Don’t you think I’m classy?”
How can I disagree with her? Especially when she’s got her finger halfway up her nose? Yeah, she’s got a really weird sense of humor.
“Thanks, Mom, that’s very attractive. What a role model. You’re going to wash your hands, right?”
Mom springs up from the bed. “Of course. That’s what classy people do,” she sniffs as she glides by me.
She comes back in while I’m slipping my robe on. “You keep distracting me, V. I wanted to talk to you about something.”
I immediately tense as I turn to her. Mom looks nervous—she’s not meeting my eyes. Oh, God, please don’t let it be the cancer…
She plops back down on my bed again and picks up my pillow, settling it down on her lap and then resting her arms over it. My muscles stiffen painfully as I wait for her to say the dreaded words.
“Promise you won’t think I’m skanky.”
“Oh, my God! I’m so—wait, what?”
Mom doesn’t look up. And is she blushing? She takes a deep breath, and I get another kind of feeling. “Bill and I—”
“No, stop!” I put both hands up in a stopping gesture. “I so don’t need to know that you two have had sex!”
“What?” Mom looks almost as horrified as I do. “Violet! That’s not what I was going to say! Trust me, you would be the last person I would confide in about my sex life.”