delicious smell of tomatoes and garlic emanating from whatever he was cooking make me nervous about his ability to get with my mom. Why did Jamie have to be cute, crushed out on her, and a good cook?
“Don’t you look pretty,” said Tina, looking up. Henry nodded his agreement.
“Thanks,” I said, heading to the foyer to wait for Sarah.
And then she came downstairs, and I knew I’d made the fashion mistake of a lifetime.
Sarah was wearing jeans rolled up at the ankles and a tiny black T-shirt with cap sleeves. It looked as if she was going to one event and I was going to another.
“Um, hi,” she said.
I could feel my face blazing.
“Hi,” I said. No way was I staying in these clothes if everyone else at the barbecue was going to be dressed like Sarah. I waited for her to make a crack about what I was wearing, but she didn’t say anything. Finally I couldn’t take it anymore. “I guess … I thought I should get dressed up.”
I could already hear her response, Well, you thought wrong.
There was a pause, then she said, “It’s probably okay if you wear that.” Surprisingly, she didn’t say it in a snotty way, like, It’s probably okay if you wear that. I mean, if you want to win the club’s annual biggest loser award.
I thought about what she said. The key word seemed to be probably . “Do you think other people will be dressed like me or like you?” Oh God, could I trust her answer? “Honestly?” she asked. She was looking me up and down, but her gaze was more measured than critical. I nodded. “I think it’s a really pretty dress, but you’ll probably be more dressed up than most people.”
It wasn’t until I’d exhaled that I realized I’d been holding my breath. “Would you mind waiting while I change?” I said.
“No problem,” she said.
I’d unzipped the dress and tossed it to the floor even before reaching the bureau, where my favorite jeans were folded in the bottom drawer. They’re ancient, ancient Levis, and I bought them at the same store where I got the sundress I’d worn to the library, so they had already been perfectly worn in the first time I put them on. I threw them on then snatched a pale green tank top out of the same drawer. It was a split-second decision, but I hoped it was a good one since I’ve always thought a tank top says, Who knows, I might be sexy but not in an obvious or slutty way. As I was racing out the door, I slipped on my flip-flops.
The whole time I was getting dressed I kept muttering Thank you, thank you, thank you under my breath, and I was halfway back to the main house when I realized the person I was thanking was Sarah.
She was sitting on the arm of the sofa when I entered the living room, and she nodded at what I was wearing.
“Way better,” she said.
The sprint to and from the guesthouse combined with the instantaneous costume change had left me a little breathless, but I managed to say, “Thanks.” Then I smiled at her and she smiled back at me, and it felt almost as if we’d jumped back in time, crossing over all the exchanges we’d had this summer to arrive at the week we’d spent in Salt Lake being friends.
“You girls should probably bring something warm to put on,” said Henry. “It’s going to get cold later and it might rain.”
“Talk about ruining a look, Dad,” said Sarah.
“Suit yourself,” said Henry. “Kate, I hope you’re more practical than my daughter. There are plenty of sweaters in the closet. Or you can take a sweatshirt.”
Jeans were one thing. Jeans and a sweatshirt were another. I shook my head and Henry shrugged.
“They can stand the cold,” said Tina, not looking up from her paper. “They’re young.”
When the front door opened and my mom walked in carrying a cake box, I was relieved to see that she was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. How intent could she be on seducing Jamie if she was wearing that?
“Have a great time,” she said; and for the first time in the history of
“Don’t you look pretty,” said Tina, looking up. Henry nodded his agreement.
“Thanks,” I said, heading to the foyer to wait for Sarah.
And then she came downstairs, and I knew I’d made the fashion mistake of a lifetime.
Sarah was wearing jeans rolled up at the ankles and a tiny black T-shirt with cap sleeves. It looked as if she was going to one event and I was going to another.
“Um, hi,” she said.
I could feel my face blazing.
“Hi,” I said. No way was I staying in these clothes if everyone else at the barbecue was going to be dressed like Sarah. I waited for her to make a crack about what I was wearing, but she didn’t say anything. Finally I couldn’t take it anymore. “I guess … I thought I should get dressed up.”
I could already hear her response, Well, you thought wrong.
There was a pause, then she said, “It’s probably okay if you wear that.” Surprisingly, she didn’t say it in a snotty way, like, It’s probably okay if you wear that. I mean, if you want to win the club’s annual biggest loser award.
I thought about what she said. The key word seemed to be probably . “Do you think other people will be dressed like me or like you?” Oh God, could I trust her answer? “Honestly?” she asked. She was looking me up and down, but her gaze was more measured than critical. I nodded. “I think it’s a really pretty dress, but you’ll probably be more dressed up than most people.”
It wasn’t until I’d exhaled that I realized I’d been holding my breath. “Would you mind waiting while I change?” I said.
“No problem,” she said.
I’d unzipped the dress and tossed it to the floor even before reaching the bureau, where my favorite jeans were folded in the bottom drawer. They’re ancient, ancient Levis, and I bought them at the same store where I got the sundress I’d worn to the library, so they had already been perfectly worn in the first time I put them on. I threw them on then snatched a pale green tank top out of the same drawer. It was a split-second decision, but I hoped it was a good one since I’ve always thought a tank top says, Who knows, I might be sexy but not in an obvious or slutty way. As I was racing out the door, I slipped on my flip-flops.
The whole time I was getting dressed I kept muttering Thank you, thank you, thank you under my breath, and I was halfway back to the main house when I realized the person I was thanking was Sarah.
She was sitting on the arm of the sofa when I entered the living room, and she nodded at what I was wearing.
“Way better,” she said.
The sprint to and from the guesthouse combined with the instantaneous costume change had left me a little breathless, but I managed to say, “Thanks.” Then I smiled at her and she smiled back at me, and it felt almost as if we’d jumped back in time, crossing over all the exchanges we’d had this summer to arrive at the week we’d spent in Salt Lake being friends.
“You girls should probably bring something warm to put on,” said Henry. “It’s going to get cold later and it might rain.”
“Talk about ruining a look, Dad,” said Sarah.
“Suit yourself,” said Henry. “Kate, I hope you’re more practical than my daughter. There are plenty of sweaters in the closet. Or you can take a sweatshirt.”
Jeans were one thing. Jeans and a sweatshirt were another. I shook my head and Henry shrugged.
“They can stand the cold,” said Tina, not looking up from her paper. “They’re young.”
When the front door opened and my mom walked in carrying a cake box, I was relieved to see that she was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. How intent could she be on seducing Jamie if she was wearing that?
“Have a great time,” she said; and for the first time in the history of
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