Read Online Such a Pretty Face by Cathy Lamb - Free Book Online Page B

tight.”
    Phyllis turned to Eileen. “This is the style. It’s the way women wear them now—”
    “Not me.”
    “Well, of course not,” Phyllis blurted out. I knew she regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. “I’m sorry—”
    “Forget it,” Eileen snapped, crossing her arms, after thumping her $1,000 purse on the floor. “I get it.”
    There was a silence, and then, “All right.” Phyllis turned back to me and smiled.
    I was stunned. Usually when Eileen was offended, people stumbled all over themselves trying to apologize. Her anger was a living thing, intimidating, controlling. They would say they were sorry once, twice, three times. She never budged, only glowered. I should know.
    This woman, this Phyllis, moved on. She said she was sorry, Eileen didn’t accept it, and she let it go.
    Whoa.
    “Now, take off the shirt you’re wearing and put on the red shirt with the criss-cross bodice we picked out. It’ll be beautiful.”
    I skedaddled back into the dressing room. I hadn’t worn red since I was a kid, even though it was absolutely my most favorite color. I stripped off the dowdy blue T-shirt I had on and slipped on the clingy red shirt with a scooped neckline. I didn’t turn around until I had adjusted the neckline.
    My mouth dropped when I saw myself in the mirror, the flute music now a full blast orchestra.
    I loved it! The shirt clung to my curves and the material felt so gentle, so…so sexy!
    I fluffed my hair out. Dowdy. Maybe I’d get it cut, too.
    I braced myself for Eileen’s reaction but couldn’t wait to show Phyllis.
    Their reactions were as I imagined.
    Phyllis said, “That is fabulous, absolutely fabulous!”
    Eileen let out a shriek-groan and said, “Slutty Mrs. Tomisson! Here she comes!”
    Tra-la-la!
     
    In the end I bought jeans, skirts, slacks, six dressy shirts in all colors and styles, two belts, and two jackets—one was denim, the other khaki corduroy. I had not dared to buy the red dress. I couldn’t. Too daring. Where would I wear it, anyhow?
    Eileen and I were both silent for the first ten minutes as I drove her home.
    “Stevie,” she sighed.
    I braced myself.
    “Can I be honest with you, honey?” She reached out and squeezed my hand. “We’re best friends, right? We’ve always been there for each other.”
    I knew what was coming. I wanted to tell her to be quiet, not to ruin the glow I had.
    “You’ve spent a fortune.”
    “I needed clothes, Eileen. All of my clothes hang off of me.” I’d gotten paid last Friday. After I paid my mortgage, bills, and medical loan, I would have $15 for food for two weeks, plus what was in my pantry. How many ways could I eat spaghetti?
    And you know what, I didn’t care!
    Spaghetti, here I come!
    Eileen smiled at the pathetic person that I was. “Those clothes aren’t flattering, Stevie. I’m sorry to tell you that, I am. Phyllis is on commission and you bought whatever she told you. You could have bought them for a fraction at Goodwill. You don’t make enough. You’ve lost some weight, now you think you can wear anything. It’s not true, I’m sorry.”
    “I don’t want to be a frump anymore, Eileen,” I said weakly.
    “You don’t want to be a frump anymore? What? You’re saying I’m a frump? That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”
    “I didn’t mean—”
    “You didn’t mean what? That I’m fat and dull compared to you? I get it, Stevie, you’re better than me now. Thinner. Prettier. And I’m still obese. Did you need to point that out? You can wear jeans, you can wear red, you need a belt. I’m sick of this. You’re going to dump me, aren’t you, because you’re thin and I’m not. I see it coming.”
    “I am not going to do that….” It was weak, I knew it. But I wouldn’t drop her for her weight. I would drop her for her mouth.
    Eileen went on and on, and I stopped protesting, stopped apologizing, shut down.
    Why did I stay friends with her? Obligation? Guilt?