“There’s no dress code,” Mom said, then eyed my sweater and jeans. “But a dress would be good.”
I wished Amy were here to dress up and for moral support. Rachel would be at the party, and so would Ben, the reason why Rachel and I had stopped talking. I needed to look good. “I'll find something appropriate,” I said to Mom, then turned and left the kitchen.
I took the steps two at a time and stepped into my old room. It still looked exactly as I’d left it three years ago. There were even still the empty spots on the wall where photos of Rachel and me had hung before I’d removed them. Bruno trotted after me into my bedroom and jumped on my bed.
“No,” I said firmly and set him down to the ground. After the last few weeks, he apparently thought that he could sleep on my bed whenever he wanted. He turned his furry butt toward me and strutted toward his dog basket, the only new addition to the room since I’d moved out.
I smiled a little as I watched him. I'd managed not to think about Adrian those last few minutes but now everything seemed to be crashing down on me. I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath. A confrontation with Rachel was really the last thing I needed on my plate right now. Having successfully fought the urge to cry, I took another breath and opened my eyes. I perused my wardrobe for an appropriate dress. There wasn't much to choose from and I hadn’t packed any fancy dresses.
Two dresses hung in my wardrobe. I’d worn neither for years. A dark-red, floor-length dress that I'd worn to my cousin’s wedding two years ago, and my prom dress. Since I thought that a bridesmaid dress was a bit too much for a party, I grabbed my prom dress. It was a cocktail dress that reached my knees. The fabric was dark-green and looked like silk, and the corset was embroidered with twine a shade darker than the actual dress. It showed a bit more skin than I was usually comfortable with outside of work, since it had spaghetti-straps and a low neckline. Dad had thrown a fit when he'd seen it the first time but he'd let me wear it to prom after some arguing.
I decided to take another shower. Afterward, I lay down on the bed to rest a bit. I hadn’t gotten all that much sleep last night.
***
A couple of minutes before six I startled awake. Knocking was coming from my door. “Nora?” Mom opened the door and stepped in without waiting for my reply. Would she ever learn to honor my privacy? She took in my rumpled appearance as I sat yawning on my bed. “You need to get ready for the party. You didn’t change your mind, did you?”
“No,” I said and got out of bed. Mom’s eyes landed on the prom dress I’d put over my desk chair. “That’s what you’re going to wear?”
“Yes. I don’t have anything else, and I always thought it was a pity that I only wore it once. It’s not a wedding dress after all.” I regretted my words as soon as I saw my mother’s expression. A bloodhound on a trail.
“So,” she said too casually. “Is there someone? A boyfriend?” Then when I glared at her. “Or girlfriend?”
“Oh God.” I seized the prom dress. “It would be a boyfriend, Mom, don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried about you being gay,” she said. “I just want you to be happy. For you to find someone. I don’t care if it’s a man or a woman. You can’t share your life with a pug forever.”
“I won’t.” Or will I? “It’s just hard to find the right person. Can we please not talk about this anymore? I need to get ready.”
She nodded slowly, then left without another word. Bruno rushed through the door after her. Traitor.
I got out of my clothes and slipped into the soft dress before I pulled my hair out of its ponytail and brushed it until it flowed down my back nicely. Then I put some make up on and searched for shoes that would go with the dress. After some rummaging I found a pair of black ballerinas and put them on. When I straightened up, I realized I should have brought high heels. The dress looked much better with them. But the only shoes that would have matched the dress were the high heels I’d worn last night. No, thank you. The party would hopefully distract me from these thoughts.
“Nora, are you ready?” Dad called from downstairs. Mom was probably miffed at me for refusing to talk about my love life with her. Love life, what a joke.
“Yes,” I shouted and took a deep breath, trying to stop thinking of him. I left my room and hurried down the steps. Dad stood in front of the mirror in the hall, fidgeting with his tie but he looked up when he heard my steps and smiled. “You look beautiful,” he said, then frowned. “That dress looks familiar.”