January 16,2008

That was definitely going to be a problem.
Apparently the only one who recognized it was me though, so I kept my mouth shut.
"Oh! It's gorgeous Shelby, you look exactly like mom."
"Really? Thanks dad. It is a little tight though."
Good--she realized.
"Yeah, I agree," I piped up.
"Well, I mean, they could always let it out a little. Its really just the arms."
I didn't want to say anything; it was hard to not upset Shelby who had always been
a bit bigger than me. Just keep your mouth shut, Luce.
"Honey, whatever you think is alright with me. I think though that this one should go on the hold pile." Dad winked at Shelby, and she smiled.
Shelby was looking in the mirror nervously, turning this way and that to get a good look.
"Luce. What do you think?"
Ugh, why does she do this?
"I think that the material is...nice. I'm not a big fan of the waist line, but it is pretty."
She didn't like the dress, she just wanted me to say it so she could blame me for making her put it back on the rack. Ugh, here it comes.
"What do you mean the waist line? All my shirts are this cut."
Well buy it then.
"I mean its very pretty, but you haven't even tried on five dresses."
"Luce, sometimes you don't have to be so picky."
She turned and glanced at the mirror again.
"I'm fat. I'm trying on a different one."
Shelby picked up the sides of the dress; tulle in hand, she stepped off the platform and went back to the dressing rooms. Once out of view, I knew dad would be on my case.
"Lucy, why do you have to always go and say something mean?!"
"Dad, I didn't say anything, I wasn't going to tell her that I liked the dress if it didn't fit."
"Lucy you didn't have to say it the way you did. You know she's sensitive and gets her feelings hurt easily."
Dad was whispering now. We had had this conversation many times; usually I would leave the room irritated, but I knew I couldn't walk out on this talk--it was, after all, Shelby's wedding dress day.
"Just act a little more interested."
"Fine." I got up and walked as far away as the tiny shop allowed.
I craned my neck up at the rows of fake flower arrangements lining the wall, and rummaged through the racks of dresses underneath.
A particular dress caught my attention, it had to have been old, judging by the yellowing fabric and general style. I pushed it aside. What good was an old dress to me. What good was a wedding to me?
Dad gave a little gasp and "that's you!" from across the room. I tried not to pay attention.

Kay Greenfield