should.” Macy let out a small sigh and looked around,
almost bored. Oh, to be a child from a family like this, I thought, where my
mom throws a huge party essentially for me, just so I remember. I took a last
look around and we quickly climbed the stairs to Macy’s room upstairs to get
ready.
I pulled on my
dress and put on the shoes I’d borrowed from Macy for the evening. Thankfully,
although we didn’t look alike, Macy and I actually wore the same size shoe so I
didn’t need to buy any just for the party. The shoes were silver, strappy, and
very tall, which had the unfortunate effect of limiting my freedom of movement.
But they looked lovely with the icy blue of my dress and I had no appropriate
heels of my own. I stood up and walked over to the floor length mirror on
Macy’s wall. I gasped. The mother I hadn’t seen in over a decade was staring
back at me in the mirror. I put my hand up to my face, my hair, my neck, and my
mother in the mirror did the same. I remembered my mother telling me how much I
looked like her, but until this moment, I hadn’t put much stock in her words. But
I did now. A longing hit me like a wave crashing into the rocks outside. I
missed her. I missed my mother desperately. And here I stood, about to walk
downstairs to a party Macy’s mom threw for Macy, in an attempt to keep her
daughter from leaving. I sat down on the edge of the bed, lost in my thoughts
and my memories of my mother who I lost so long ago.
I looked up to see
Macy walking out of her bathroom, a sea of cotton candy pink perfection,
smiling from ear to ear. “Well, what do you think?” she said, twirling around. I
took a deep breath and attempted to regain my composure. This night is about
Macy and being her friend, not about me or my mother, I thought to myself.
I plastered the
brightest smile I could manage on my face and answered, “You’re stunning as
usual. How about me? These shoes work, right? Are you sure you don’t mind if I
borrow them?”
“Of course I don’t
mind, and you look fantastic,” Macy answered. “Come, let’s get some champagne
and forget this is my mother’s party. I’m ready to have some fun,” Macy said,
linking her arm in mine and pulling me out the door and down the hall.
We walked down the stairs, our hands running over the bannister
lit with tiny, twinkling lights, to the first floor of the house filled with
live music, the smell of fresh flowers, and tray after tray of champagne. While
we dressed upstairs, all sorts of people had arrived, decked out in evening
dresses, tuxedos, and enough jewelry to stock an entire Tiffany’s. It had to be
the largest gathering of socialites and their exhibition of wealth in Oregon
outside of Portland. I felt out of place, awkward, and ungainly thanks to
Macy’s heels. Macy handed me a glass of champagne off a server’s tray, gave my
arm a reassuring squeeze and melded into the party and the society in which she
belonged. I found myself alone in a sea of people, most of whom I had no
interest in, and I assumed the feeling was mutual. I looked down at my silver
shoes, wishing they were ruby red and could transport me away from here and
back to my small, comfortable apartment with a few quick clicks of my heels.
Feeling the weight
of a stare on my face, I raised my head and saw a pair of women who appeared to
be the same age as Diane, Macy’s mom, giving me the once over. They had a
conspiratorial bent to their heads and when they realized I noticed, they
turned away and pretended I didn’t exist. “Okay, that was strange,” I thought
to myself. “Do I have toilet paper stuck to my shoe or something?” I looked at
my feet but they were fine. I shrugged it off and walked over to the food set
out in an elaborate display of ice sculptures and chocolate fountains. I picked
up a strawberry and was about to drown it in chocolate in an attempt to improve
my mood, when I looked up and saw Diane giving me the same stare. “Okay, this
is
almost bored. Oh, to be a child from a family like this, I thought, where my
mom throws a huge party essentially for me, just so I remember. I took a last
look around and we quickly climbed the stairs to Macy’s room upstairs to get
ready.
I pulled on my
dress and put on the shoes I’d borrowed from Macy for the evening. Thankfully,
although we didn’t look alike, Macy and I actually wore the same size shoe so I
didn’t need to buy any just for the party. The shoes were silver, strappy, and
very tall, which had the unfortunate effect of limiting my freedom of movement.
But they looked lovely with the icy blue of my dress and I had no appropriate
heels of my own. I stood up and walked over to the floor length mirror on
Macy’s wall. I gasped. The mother I hadn’t seen in over a decade was staring
back at me in the mirror. I put my hand up to my face, my hair, my neck, and my
mother in the mirror did the same. I remembered my mother telling me how much I
looked like her, but until this moment, I hadn’t put much stock in her words. But
I did now. A longing hit me like a wave crashing into the rocks outside. I
missed her. I missed my mother desperately. And here I stood, about to walk
downstairs to a party Macy’s mom threw for Macy, in an attempt to keep her
daughter from leaving. I sat down on the edge of the bed, lost in my thoughts
and my memories of my mother who I lost so long ago.
I looked up to see
Macy walking out of her bathroom, a sea of cotton candy pink perfection,
smiling from ear to ear. “Well, what do you think?” she said, twirling around. I
took a deep breath and attempted to regain my composure. This night is about
Macy and being her friend, not about me or my mother, I thought to myself.
I plastered the
brightest smile I could manage on my face and answered, “You’re stunning as
usual. How about me? These shoes work, right? Are you sure you don’t mind if I
borrow them?”
“Of course I don’t
mind, and you look fantastic,” Macy answered. “Come, let’s get some champagne
and forget this is my mother’s party. I’m ready to have some fun,” Macy said,
linking her arm in mine and pulling me out the door and down the hall.
We walked down the stairs, our hands running over the bannister
lit with tiny, twinkling lights, to the first floor of the house filled with
live music, the smell of fresh flowers, and tray after tray of champagne. While
we dressed upstairs, all sorts of people had arrived, decked out in evening
dresses, tuxedos, and enough jewelry to stock an entire Tiffany’s. It had to be
the largest gathering of socialites and their exhibition of wealth in Oregon
outside of Portland. I felt out of place, awkward, and ungainly thanks to
Macy’s heels. Macy handed me a glass of champagne off a server’s tray, gave my
arm a reassuring squeeze and melded into the party and the society in which she
belonged. I found myself alone in a sea of people, most of whom I had no
interest in, and I assumed the feeling was mutual. I looked down at my silver
shoes, wishing they were ruby red and could transport me away from here and
back to my small, comfortable apartment with a few quick clicks of my heels.
Feeling the weight
of a stare on my face, I raised my head and saw a pair of women who appeared to
be the same age as Diane, Macy’s mom, giving me the once over. They had a
conspiratorial bent to their heads and when they realized I noticed, they
turned away and pretended I didn’t exist. “Okay, that was strange,” I thought
to myself. “Do I have toilet paper stuck to my shoe or something?” I looked at
my feet but they were fine. I shrugged it off and walked over to the food set
out in an elaborate display of ice sculptures and chocolate fountains. I picked
up a strawberry and was about to drown it in chocolate in an attempt to improve
my mood, when I looked up and saw Diane giving me the same stare. “Okay, this
is
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