Read Online When Audrey Met Alice by Rebecca Behrens - Free Book Online
Authors: Rebecca Behrens
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before she even started down the hall. I was left staring at the fugly jumper dress next to my closet. Yuck. Alice would not be caught dead in a dress like that. (Aside from the fact that it would show her ankles, and Alice probably would be into that taboo.) She wore clothes that made her feel beautiful and grown-up. I am sick of wearing a little girl’s clothes, especially in public. It was too late for me to try the elbow-in-the-soup treatment on the assistant who picked out my outfit, and my mom was obviously too busy to talk, so I would have to make a wardrobe adjustment without consulting them.
The jumper found its way to a pile of clothes on my floor and I found my way into the dress from my flapper costume. It’s not a costumey dress—it’s the real thing. Vintage, emerald green, fringed, and swingy. Maybe a little bit low-cut (Mom made me wear a leotard under it before), and it stops a couple inches from my knees. The dress looks amazing on me, though. I wore it when my dance company in St. Paul commissioned new choreography to Rhapsody in Blue , when I had my first solo. I danced around in front of my mirror, listening to the swish of the fringe. It tickled my bare legs. I skipped the leotard. To thine own self be true, right?
I sneaked into my mom’s dressing room and hit up her shoes. I’m almost a half-size larger than her, but I can squeeze into some of her pairs. I found a pair of extra-fancy black heels—tall, with red paint on the bottom. Excellent. Then I wandered over to her vanity and started messing around with her makeup. I didn’t put a lot on—just a few swipes of mascara and some red lipstick. I stood in front of her big mirror and did a twirl. I looked amazing: not at all like a little girl, and I loved it. Like Alice, I was transformed. I couldn’t wait to see how people would react to the new me.
A little after 6:30 p.m.—I wanted to make a dramatic entrance—I headed down to the Diplomatic Reception Room, where we always meet important State guests. I tottered a little wherever I hit thick carpet. How the heck do women walk around in these things all day long? Walking the long halls took forever, but finally I click-clacked my way into the room. My parents, some aides and the Chief of Staff, one of the official White House photographers, and the Germans—Chancellor Klaus Bergermann; his wife, Margaret; some of their aides; and who I assumed to be Bergermann’s teenage daughter—were already standing around, taking pictures.
I stopped in the doorway, one hand on my hip. My shoulders were thrown back in my best, most confident posture. I raised my chin and smiled broadly.
“Audrey, dear, come in—” my mother started, then her eyes broke from mine and scanned down my body, stopping at her tall, tall shoes. Mom’s mouth hung open. “Audrey?”
“Yes?” I kept grinning, but I noticed how quiet everything had gotten. There’s usually a constant murmur in the White House, but I could hear only my pulse pounding inside my head.
The assistant from this morning appeared at my side. “ What are you wearing? ” she hissed in my ear. I felt my cheeks start burning, even though the room felt cold and disapproving. This was not exactly what I had expected. I only wanted people to see me as I am, or want to be—not some silent, boring little girl.
Finally, someone broke the silence. “I adore your dress,” the teenage girl said with a strong German accent, walking forward. The rest of the room watched as she came to my side. “I am impressed by your shoes too.”
My mother turned and tried to smile at the other guests. “Audrey, meet Heidi Bergermann.” But Mom was fighting a grimace, so the corners of her mouth kept turning down. It looked like her face was half-paralyzed. “Please excuse me, I seem to have stalled in our introductions. I was taken by surprise by your lovely…gown.” I cringed, but everyone else laughed good-naturedly and stopped staring at me, turning
The jumper found its way to a pile of clothes on my floor and I found my way into the dress from my flapper costume. It’s not a costumey dress—it’s the real thing. Vintage, emerald green, fringed, and swingy. Maybe a little bit low-cut (Mom made me wear a leotard under it before), and it stops a couple inches from my knees. The dress looks amazing on me, though. I wore it when my dance company in St. Paul commissioned new choreography to Rhapsody in Blue , when I had my first solo. I danced around in front of my mirror, listening to the swish of the fringe. It tickled my bare legs. I skipped the leotard. To thine own self be true, right?
I sneaked into my mom’s dressing room and hit up her shoes. I’m almost a half-size larger than her, but I can squeeze into some of her pairs. I found a pair of extra-fancy black heels—tall, with red paint on the bottom. Excellent. Then I wandered over to her vanity and started messing around with her makeup. I didn’t put a lot on—just a few swipes of mascara and some red lipstick. I stood in front of her big mirror and did a twirl. I looked amazing: not at all like a little girl, and I loved it. Like Alice, I was transformed. I couldn’t wait to see how people would react to the new me.
A little after 6:30 p.m.—I wanted to make a dramatic entrance—I headed down to the Diplomatic Reception Room, where we always meet important State guests. I tottered a little wherever I hit thick carpet. How the heck do women walk around in these things all day long? Walking the long halls took forever, but finally I click-clacked my way into the room. My parents, some aides and the Chief of Staff, one of the official White House photographers, and the Germans—Chancellor Klaus Bergermann; his wife, Margaret; some of their aides; and who I assumed to be Bergermann’s teenage daughter—were already standing around, taking pictures.
I stopped in the doorway, one hand on my hip. My shoulders were thrown back in my best, most confident posture. I raised my chin and smiled broadly.
“Audrey, dear, come in—” my mother started, then her eyes broke from mine and scanned down my body, stopping at her tall, tall shoes. Mom’s mouth hung open. “Audrey?”
“Yes?” I kept grinning, but I noticed how quiet everything had gotten. There’s usually a constant murmur in the White House, but I could hear only my pulse pounding inside my head.
The assistant from this morning appeared at my side. “ What are you wearing? ” she hissed in my ear. I felt my cheeks start burning, even though the room felt cold and disapproving. This was not exactly what I had expected. I only wanted people to see me as I am, or want to be—not some silent, boring little girl.
Finally, someone broke the silence. “I adore your dress,” the teenage girl said with a strong German accent, walking forward. The rest of the room watched as she came to my side. “I am impressed by your shoes too.”
My mother turned and tried to smile at the other guests. “Audrey, meet Heidi Bergermann.” But Mom was fighting a grimace, so the corners of her mouth kept turning down. It looked like her face was half-paralyzed. “Please excuse me, I seem to have stalled in our introductions. I was taken by surprise by your lovely…gown.” I cringed, but everyone else laughed good-naturedly and stopped staring at me, turning
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