Read Online The Guardian by Carey Corp - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Carey Corp
Tags: Juvenile Fiction
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this dress represents, I long to be her, a more trusting self than Alex, more grounded than Alexia…
“Do I get to see this one? Please” Kate’s apologetic voice cuts through the spell, and the girl is gone. Suddenly I’m Alex again.
Fighting the urge to change and return the dress to its hiding place, I freeze. There’s something in the timbre of Kate’s plea that makes me hesitate. Although I’m afraid of my longing, of what the dress represents, I open the door, my hands shaking.
Kate’s breathy gasp of surprise fills my ears like a deafening roar. When she looks at me, her vivid brown eyes are swimming. There are tears in her smile, and for a moment I’m not sure if they’re the good kind or bad ones. A single delicate teardrop rolls down her cheek. “You look beautiful, Alex.”
My own eyes are full, threatening to overflow. My heart’s in my mouth and I’m unable to do much other than nod gravely. Kate’s fluttering hand reaches forward, fingering the filmy fabric. Her face is distant, existing in another space and time as she murmurs absently, “Every young woman should own the perfect black dress. It works for nearly every occasion.”
Although she has managed to keep her voice even, tears are flowing freely down her face. The occasion in her mind’s eye isn’t a happy one, and I can’t fathom how it must feel to lose someone you love, especially a child.
My voice is barely audible when I speak. “I don’t have to get this one. I don’t really need a dress at—”
“Nonsense!” Kate’s reply is firm, her face wet but smiling. “It’s your perfect dress—you don’t get to say no. Now change, please, so we can buy it.”
Later, we meet Steven at a downtown restaurant for dinner. The Fosters eat out every Saturday night, their weekend ritual. Tonight’s restaurant is dark, all teak and red cushions. Kate informs me the eatery’s Korean, but it doesn’t mean a whole lot, because I don’t have much experience with dining out, let alone ethnic foods.
As we enter, I do a quick assessment of the inside. The bar’s small and not meant for loitering—which is good because, in my limited observation, bars attract a disproportionate amount of dark halos. The dining room’s awash in soft golden light of its occupants interrupted sporadically by faint gray smudges, but they’re isolated and of little concern to me.
Steven, in a daffodil-colored haze, waves us across the room to a table by the window, his face lighting up as he locks eyes with Kate. Anyone can see by looking at him, he adores his wife. He’s always touching her lightly on the arms or shoulders, or bringing her flowers. If he’s still grieving, he does so privately. For his wife, he’s a bastion of strength. I admire him for that, his selflessness.
But sometimes he’s too protective, too cautious, not in a controlling way but more of a heightened sensitivity sort of way. As if their life exists on top of a house of cards and could come crashing down the instant it gets emotionally off-balance.
As Kate kisses him, a peck of greeting, they exchange one of their non-verbal communications. Her wide smile is unrestrained, carefree in its abandon. Grinning at his wife, Steven visibly relaxes. The tension melts from his face and body as he takes his cue from her. The smile enhances the deep lines of his face, making him even more handsome.
So much resides in that look between them, but all he says is, “I take it dress shopping went well?” Somehow, I comprehend he’s talking about more than just clothing.
“I think so.” Kate glances down shyly, then turns to me. “Alex?”
I feel shy as well. Things are different between Kate and me, and I can barely comprehend the changes let alone vocalize them. “Yes.”
“Great.” Steven stares thoughtfully out the window while Kate busies herself by pouring tea from a steaming ceramic pot. Taking a cup of the hot, fragrant liquid, I inhale deeply before taking a
“Do I get to see this one? Please” Kate’s apologetic voice cuts through the spell, and the girl is gone. Suddenly I’m Alex again.
Fighting the urge to change and return the dress to its hiding place, I freeze. There’s something in the timbre of Kate’s plea that makes me hesitate. Although I’m afraid of my longing, of what the dress represents, I open the door, my hands shaking.
Kate’s breathy gasp of surprise fills my ears like a deafening roar. When she looks at me, her vivid brown eyes are swimming. There are tears in her smile, and for a moment I’m not sure if they’re the good kind or bad ones. A single delicate teardrop rolls down her cheek. “You look beautiful, Alex.”
My own eyes are full, threatening to overflow. My heart’s in my mouth and I’m unable to do much other than nod gravely. Kate’s fluttering hand reaches forward, fingering the filmy fabric. Her face is distant, existing in another space and time as she murmurs absently, “Every young woman should own the perfect black dress. It works for nearly every occasion.”
Although she has managed to keep her voice even, tears are flowing freely down her face. The occasion in her mind’s eye isn’t a happy one, and I can’t fathom how it must feel to lose someone you love, especially a child.
My voice is barely audible when I speak. “I don’t have to get this one. I don’t really need a dress at—”
“Nonsense!” Kate’s reply is firm, her face wet but smiling. “It’s your perfect dress—you don’t get to say no. Now change, please, so we can buy it.”
Later, we meet Steven at a downtown restaurant for dinner. The Fosters eat out every Saturday night, their weekend ritual. Tonight’s restaurant is dark, all teak and red cushions. Kate informs me the eatery’s Korean, but it doesn’t mean a whole lot, because I don’t have much experience with dining out, let alone ethnic foods.
As we enter, I do a quick assessment of the inside. The bar’s small and not meant for loitering—which is good because, in my limited observation, bars attract a disproportionate amount of dark halos. The dining room’s awash in soft golden light of its occupants interrupted sporadically by faint gray smudges, but they’re isolated and of little concern to me.
Steven, in a daffodil-colored haze, waves us across the room to a table by the window, his face lighting up as he locks eyes with Kate. Anyone can see by looking at him, he adores his wife. He’s always touching her lightly on the arms or shoulders, or bringing her flowers. If he’s still grieving, he does so privately. For his wife, he’s a bastion of strength. I admire him for that, his selflessness.
But sometimes he’s too protective, too cautious, not in a controlling way but more of a heightened sensitivity sort of way. As if their life exists on top of a house of cards and could come crashing down the instant it gets emotionally off-balance.
As Kate kisses him, a peck of greeting, they exchange one of their non-verbal communications. Her wide smile is unrestrained, carefree in its abandon. Grinning at his wife, Steven visibly relaxes. The tension melts from his face and body as he takes his cue from her. The smile enhances the deep lines of his face, making him even more handsome.
So much resides in that look between them, but all he says is, “I take it dress shopping went well?” Somehow, I comprehend he’s talking about more than just clothing.
“I think so.” Kate glances down shyly, then turns to me. “Alex?”
I feel shy as well. Things are different between Kate and me, and I can barely comprehend the changes let alone vocalize them. “Yes.”
“Great.” Steven stares thoughtfully out the window while Kate busies herself by pouring tea from a steaming ceramic pot. Taking a cup of the hot, fragrant liquid, I inhale deeply before taking a
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