petted the dress. “The prom is everything.” She bit her lip and blinked hard. “Just everything.”
“No waterworks,” Aunt Sharon warned. “You promised.”
If I walked over to Bonventura, I could join the army. Better yet, if I called the recruiter and invited him over to meet my family, I bet he’d give me a signing bonus because he’d feel so bad for me.
Aunt Sharon leaned forward to put out her cigarette. “This is going to be the best night of your life, Ash, swear to God. I can remember every minute of my prom.”
No, I shouldn’t walk. I should run screaming all the way to the recruiting office and beg the army to take me.
Aunt Joan lit two cigarettes and handed one to Aunt Sharon. “You’re going with TJ, right? This is going to be so freaking romantic. Is he going to wear a tux? He should get one of them tall hats, you know?”
Of course, with my luck, I’d get assigned to something like sweeping minefields. But I’d take it. I’d volunteer, even.
“You should have seen your mother’s face when she found out,” Aunt Sharon said. “She didn’t know if she should be pissed off or overjoyed.”
That comment hit a nerve. “How did you find out? Wait a minute. . . . ” I whirled around. “Steven!”
A voice answered from the kitchen. “It wasn’t me!”
“Relax, peanut,” Ma said. “It wasn’t your brothers. Your father told me the news. Last night.”
“Bless his heart,” said Aunt Joan.
“Bless his heart,” echoed Aunt Sharon.
“You shoulda heard her,” added Aunt Linny. “As soon as she finds out: ‘Ash needs a dress. Omigod, Ash needs a dress. Thank you, Jesus, she needs a dress.’”
“Linny called us right away,” Aunt Joan said. “We rounded up all the prom dresses we could.”
“Bridesmaid dresses, too,” added Aunt Sharon. “And shoes. And my friend Carmen has a closet of purses, oh my God, you should see it.”
“Where is Dad?” I asked. “I need to kill him.”
Aunt Linny petted the green dress again. “The hardware store. He’s on a roll, he said. Wants to finish the basement for you. When he’s not being an asshole, your father is a truly wonderful human being.”
Aunt Joan reached for another doughnut. “He told my Joe that he’s got your ride all lined up. Slick, he said.”
“Enough yakking,” Ma said. “Sharon, pull the blinds. Ashley, try these on. You can change in the dining room.”
“But Maaa,” I whined.
Four sets of steely blue eyes pinned me up against the wall.
85.
Somewhere in America there was a girl who had nobody. No mother getting buzzed on chocolate doughnuts and secondhand smoke. No aunts who kept their prom dresses twenty years too long. No relatives or friends of relatives or neighbors of relatives who heard that the girl was going to a prom and had a sister whose daughter went last year and I’m sure we could borrow the gown, because you never know, it could fit.
I hoped that girl knew how lucky she was.
86.
The first dress I was handed came from somebody named Stacey Wiggans, whose mother worked with Aunt Joan. I never met Stacey Wiggans, but I’ll know her if I see her on the street. She has boobs the size of Alaska.
I zipped it up and stepped into the living room. Ma took one look and said, “I can see all the way to your belly button. Take it off.”
Aunt Linny handed me something black and velvet. “Try this.”
“Black is for funerals,” I said.
“Black is sophisticated; don’t argue.”
I took off the Stacey Wiggans Big Boob Special and shim mied into the black dress.
“Ta-da!”
Aunt Joan snorted smoke out her nose. Ma cracked up. “Okay, sophisticated you’re not. Next.”
Next was a blue polka-dot disaster, then came something that looked like a bedspread, then a gold shimmery thing that wouldn’t go over my hips, and then a dark purple beaded strapless that was pretty except that it fell down every time I raised my arms.
“Again with the boobs,” sighed Aunt Sharon.
A
“No waterworks,” Aunt Sharon warned. “You promised.”
If I walked over to Bonventura, I could join the army. Better yet, if I called the recruiter and invited him over to meet my family, I bet he’d give me a signing bonus because he’d feel so bad for me.
Aunt Sharon leaned forward to put out her cigarette. “This is going to be the best night of your life, Ash, swear to God. I can remember every minute of my prom.”
No, I shouldn’t walk. I should run screaming all the way to the recruiting office and beg the army to take me.
Aunt Joan lit two cigarettes and handed one to Aunt Sharon. “You’re going with TJ, right? This is going to be so freaking romantic. Is he going to wear a tux? He should get one of them tall hats, you know?”
Of course, with my luck, I’d get assigned to something like sweeping minefields. But I’d take it. I’d volunteer, even.
“You should have seen your mother’s face when she found out,” Aunt Sharon said. “She didn’t know if she should be pissed off or overjoyed.”
That comment hit a nerve. “How did you find out? Wait a minute. . . . ” I whirled around. “Steven!”
A voice answered from the kitchen. “It wasn’t me!”
“Relax, peanut,” Ma said. “It wasn’t your brothers. Your father told me the news. Last night.”
“Bless his heart,” said Aunt Joan.
“Bless his heart,” echoed Aunt Sharon.
“You shoulda heard her,” added Aunt Linny. “As soon as she finds out: ‘Ash needs a dress. Omigod, Ash needs a dress. Thank you, Jesus, she needs a dress.’”
“Linny called us right away,” Aunt Joan said. “We rounded up all the prom dresses we could.”
“Bridesmaid dresses, too,” added Aunt Sharon. “And shoes. And my friend Carmen has a closet of purses, oh my God, you should see it.”
“Where is Dad?” I asked. “I need to kill him.”
Aunt Linny petted the green dress again. “The hardware store. He’s on a roll, he said. Wants to finish the basement for you. When he’s not being an asshole, your father is a truly wonderful human being.”
Aunt Joan reached for another doughnut. “He told my Joe that he’s got your ride all lined up. Slick, he said.”
“Enough yakking,” Ma said. “Sharon, pull the blinds. Ashley, try these on. You can change in the dining room.”
“But Maaa,” I whined.
Four sets of steely blue eyes pinned me up against the wall.
85.
Somewhere in America there was a girl who had nobody. No mother getting buzzed on chocolate doughnuts and secondhand smoke. No aunts who kept their prom dresses twenty years too long. No relatives or friends of relatives or neighbors of relatives who heard that the girl was going to a prom and had a sister whose daughter went last year and I’m sure we could borrow the gown, because you never know, it could fit.
I hoped that girl knew how lucky she was.
86.
The first dress I was handed came from somebody named Stacey Wiggans, whose mother worked with Aunt Joan. I never met Stacey Wiggans, but I’ll know her if I see her on the street. She has boobs the size of Alaska.
I zipped it up and stepped into the living room. Ma took one look and said, “I can see all the way to your belly button. Take it off.”
Aunt Linny handed me something black and velvet. “Try this.”
“Black is for funerals,” I said.
“Black is sophisticated; don’t argue.”
I took off the Stacey Wiggans Big Boob Special and shim mied into the black dress.
“Ta-da!”
Aunt Joan snorted smoke out her nose. Ma cracked up. “Okay, sophisticated you’re not. Next.”
Next was a blue polka-dot disaster, then came something that looked like a bedspread, then a gold shimmery thing that wouldn’t go over my hips, and then a dark purple beaded strapless that was pretty except that it fell down every time I raised my arms.
“Again with the boobs,” sighed Aunt Sharon.
A
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