Jess watched with gleaming eyes as Mina pulled the tape from the box and opened it, pushing aside several layers of tissue paper before lifting the gown from its depths.
“Oh my God. It looks even better than in the catalogue!” Jess clapped her hands together, eyeing the dress with glee.
As she stared down at the silky purple confection, Mina had to admit that it was nice – perhaps even nicer than it had looked in the photo, as Jess had said. It was downright gorgeous, and the expression on Jess’s face convinced her that it had been well worth the money. “It’ll look even better when you’re wearing it. Come on.”
They retreated to Jess’s bedroom, where Mina helped her out of her chair and onto the edge of her bed. She sat there steadily, barely holding onto the end of the bedframe for support. Her bi-weekly physical therapy sessions had really been paying off. She’d developed an amazing amount of core strength for a fourteen year old girl, and though her progress came in marginal increments, she was getting better at standing, too. Sometimes Mina wondered if Jess would someday be able to take a step. The thought stirred a bevy of conflicting emotions – pride at Jess’s progress and positive attitude, as well as the familiar anger and bitterness that always rose up in her when she thought of Jess as she had been several years ago, when she’d been able to walk. She shoved the thoughts into a dark corner of her mind, unwilling to spoil Jess’s joy over her new dress by brooding.
In a few short minutes, she helped Jess out of her street clothes and into the gown. She pulled the zipper up slowly. “How is it? Not too tight or too loose?”
Jess sighed, as if she’d been holding her breath. “I think it’s perfect. But there’s only one way to tell for sure. Help me stand up.”
Mina obliged gladly, helping Jess to her feet and offering her arm for support.
“That’s OK,” Jess said, waving away her offer. “I’m fine. Will you open my closet door?”
Mina hurried across the room, knowing that Jess couldn’t stand on her own for long. As she swung the closet door open, Jess gasped.
Mina hurried to stand beside her, where she could see her reflection in the full-length mirror that was attached to the inside of the closet door. To her equal surprise and chagrin, she felt tears prick the corners of her eyes as she took in the image. Jess looked beautiful. Standing there in the gorgeous gown, she did it more justice than the model in the catalogue had. “Jess, you look amazing.”
Jess’s face was split from ear to ear in a gigantic grin. “I knew I’d love this dress. Thanks, Mina. For buying it for me, I mean.”
“No problem. I’m glad we sprung for it. I can’t wait to see you on the night of the dance, with your hair and make-up all done up…” The pressure behind her eyes mounted as she imagined it.
“Mina, are you crying?” Jess asked incredulously.
“No.” Mina hastily wiped her arm across her eyes, catching the incriminating moisture with her sleeve. To her horror, when she opened them again she saw that Jess’s legs had given out and that she was collapsing backwards onto the bed. “Jess!” She reached for her, but it was too late. Jess had landed squarely in the middle of the mattress in a heap of violet satin.
Jess giggled, pressing a hand to her mouth.
“What are you laughing about?”
“Sorry, but you’re acting like one of those moms who cry at weddings or something.” Jess sniggered, splaying her other hand across her belly as if to suppress her laughter. It didn’t work. Soon she was all but braying with amusement.
“Ha ha,” Mina said austerely, not quite managing to hide a smile of her own.
Jess looked as if she might make another jibe at Mina, but Mina’s cell phone interrupted first, ringing shrilly from her purse, which she’d deposited on Jess’s desk. Mina’s heart leapt. Maybe it was Eric. After pausing to help Jess into a sitting position, she answered it. “Hello?”
“Mina, it’s me.” Karen almost always greeted Mina that way.
“Hey. How’s it going?”
Karen launched into an enthusiastic account of her recent days, relating how beneficial her work for Hot Ink had proven to be. Jed had allowed her to leave a stack of her business cards on the front counter – Mina saw it every day at work – and apparently, they’d resulted in more business than she’d initially dared to hope for. “I mean,” Karen explained, “people are willing to endure a lot of pain and sacrifice a lot of time and money to get their tattoos in the first place, right? So why wouldn’t they want to have them showcased with professional photos? I shot like five Hot Ink clients this week.”