Shirley smiled when I confronted her. “I was dusting.”
Then her smile thinned. “You look so much like her when you’re angry. It must be hard for your father, seeing her face every time you walk into a room.”
“I am their daughter.”
“Yes,” Shirley said softly. “Everyone can tell.”
“You look so much like her when you’re angry.”
After that, she kept finding reasons to go into my room. Twice, she sent me out because of “cleaning chemicals.”
Dresses
Then I caught her near the dress, the garment bag half-unzipped.
I stopped in my doorway. “What are you doing?”
Shirley turned with one hand still on the zipper. “Checking for moths.”
“In my closet?”
Women’s Clothing
“Your mother would hate to see her work ruined.”
“What are you doing?”
“Don’t talk about my mother.”
She glanced at the dress. “You really do think you’re her little replacement, don’t you?”
I stepped between her and the closet. “Get out.”
That night, I told Dad.
He stood at the kitchen counter eating cold leftovers.
Pregnancy & Maternity
“Don’t talk about my mother.”
“She was in my room,” I said. “She had Mom’s dress open.”
He set down the fork. “Shirley is trying to help.”
“She isn’t helping. She’s touching things she knows hurt me.”
“She lost Kathy too.”
“She lost a friend. I lost my mom.”
His face changed, but not enough.
Parenting
“I can’t do this tonight,” he said.
“She lost a friend.”
I waited for him to remember he was my father.
He didn’t.
So I went upstairs and blocked my door.
Photographic & Digital Arts
Two weeks before prom, one of Mom’s rosettes came loose. It was tiny, but I cried like the whole dress had fallen apart.
I couldn’t fix Mom’s part myself.
Not Mom’s part.
I went upstairs and blocked my door.
The next afternoon, Gary drove me to Mrs. Howard’s alterations shop.
Gary was my prom date and AP Chemistry lab partner. He was quiet, careful, and never made me explain feelings.
Dictionaries & Encyclopedias
Mrs. Howard’s shop smelled like steam and fabric.
When I explained the rosette, she didn’t rush me.
“My mom made it,” I said. “Before she died.”
Mrs. Howard’s face softened. “Then we will be very careful, dear.”
“Before she died.”
She bent over the neckline.
“This is beautiful handwork,” she murmured.
