Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes(56)

 

As I walked toward the pharmacy section, the lingerie department caught my eye. I blushed thinking about Joe seeing me in my nighty. Further down my list wear a lacy bra and panties lingered. I forced myself to ignore the utilitarian underwear I usually wore, and focused on the lacy, pretty things.

 

They were beautiful and came in so many colors and styles. Wickedness took hold of me. Why wear lingerie only one day? Why not every day for the next four days? I picked out white, black, lavender and red, the evilest of all. No one would ever see them, so why not? I took them into the fitting room and tried on the black set first, amazed the woman returning my gaze in the mirror was me. I looked like a Victoria’s Secret model.

 

I was buying all four.

 

I’d just have to make sure to wear the white lingerie on Sunday. When they found my body.

 

For the first time, the seriousness of it hit me. I was going to die. My breath caught in my chest, and I gasped for air, sitting down on the dressing room bench.

 

I’m going to die.

 

I let myself have a good cry, right there in the Walmart fitting room, wearing nothing but my wicked black bra and panties, the price tag poking me in the side. Was this really how I wanted to spend my last four days? Working my way through a list ranging from committing all Seven Deadly Sins to doing more with a man? I looked back on the last twenty-four years, all wasted, and stared at my tear-streaked face in the mirror.

 

Hell, yeah.

 

I dug through my purse and found a package of tissues, blew my nose, and wiped away my tears. Enough. You’ve had your cry, you were owed one. But now you’re done. I still had items on my list to do today.

 

After I bought makeup and a collar and food for Muffy, I headed to the beauty salon. I talked to a stylist and since Aunt Bessie had already cut my hair, we decided I should get highlights, pretty caramel-colored ones that blended in with my dark brown hair. And a manicure to go with the pedicure.

 

When I left a few hours later, I wondered why I never did these things before. Why I waited until the last days of my life to feel pampered and beautiful. People tell themselves there’s plenty of time to do it all, but most of the time they never see death coming. I sat in the front seat of my rented convertible thinking of all the living I had left to do.

 

I wasn't ready to go home yet.

 

I put the top back down, slid on my sunglasses, and headed for the highway, driving seventy miles an hour, the wind blowing through my hair. I never felt so free and alive. This was how I wanted to remember living, if you remembered anything after you were dead. I filed it away in a spot in my mind, a scrapbook of memories to take to the afterlife.

 

Careful not to cross the county line, I turned around at the exit before I reached the edge. I sure didn’t want to spend my last days in jail.

 

On my way home, I remembered the wooden box in the trunk. I didn’t know how to go about opening it, so I took it into the hardware store and asked a clerk. He suggested cutting it with bolt cutters. He set the box on a counter and pulled out the biggest pair of scissors I had ever seen. With a couple of quick snips, he cut both links of the padlock. “Who’s Dora?” He asked, pulling the lock free.

 

“Hopefully, I’m about to find out.”

 

I drove to Violet’s house. It seemed fitting we open it together.

 

“What are you doin’ here?” She asked, surprised to see me at three o’clock in the afternoon. My new highlights and flashy convertible must have thrown her off, too. I supposed it looked like I was going through a midlife crisis. An end-of-life crisis was more like it.

 

“I got the lock cut off the box. I thought you might want to help me open it.” I carried it into the kitchen and set it on the island. We both sat on stools staring at it as if we expected the lid to pop open on its own.

 

“I’m scared to find out what’s inside.” I finally admitted.

 

“I know. Me, too.”

 

“But we’ve got to find out sometime, right?” So I grabbed the lid in both hands and flipped it open.

 

At least nothing flew out.

 

I pulled it closer and Violet and I both looked inside. A diamond engagement ring lay on top of a stack of papers. Lifting it out, I twisted the ring in the light, watching it sparkle.

 

“Whose is that?” Violet asked in awe. “I never saw Momma wear anythin’ like that.”

 

“I don’t know…” my voice trailed off as I studied it. It was a big diamond, about a half-carat, with tiny diamonds surrounding it on a white gold band. “It’s beautiful.” I placed it on my right ring finger. It fit perfectly. The sparkly stone was so mesmerizing, I couldn’t take my eyes off it.