“As fun as a fork in my eye.”
Fifteen hours later, we were walking into Macy’s in the good old Mall of America as my mother greeted every person she passed with a chipper good morning.
We arrived at the sexy dress section, and she started piling every dress she saw into her arms.
“Mom, I’m not crazy about most of those.” Yes, I was a buzz kill when it came to shopping. Was that part of my decision to choose a career that allowed me to embrace scrubs? Maybe deep down, but only because I loathed taking precious hours of my life to try on stuff with an 88.86 percent chance of hating it.
“You can never determine how a dress will fit on the hanger. You must put it on and feel the dress. The right one will speak to you every time.”
I grabbed a blue dress and used a fairy tale whisper. “This one is telling me my boob will likely pop out at dinner.”
“Fern, everything I do is in your best interest. Maybe I?—”
“You know they make medication for the way you act.” I bit my lip to not let a singular giggle slip out.
“You just shut your mouth young lady. I know what I’m doing, and I will find the perfect dress for you. And I must see every last one you try on. Do you hear me?”
I raised a brow, knowing she remembered the moment. Yup, when I was prom dress shopping with my typical shitty shopping attitude, I refused to let her into the dressing room. She was yelling, and, as many normal mothers watched, she used a chair, climbed over the top of the dressing room door, and crashed onto the floor beside me.
Her overly enthusiastic attitude about everything was sometimes a lot to take. Did she find me an amazing prom dress that made me feel perfect for the big dance? Yes. Did I mention my need for a beautiful dress last night, knowing she would help me? Yes. Did I have all the confidence in Minnesota that she’d pull the same thing off today? Yes, but I’d never let her know it.
“Don’t you give me that look, Fern Ethel Novotny. You gave me no choice but to throw my body over that fitting room wall. You needed me.”
“Fine. I’ll try on the dresses and let you see them. Happy?
She grabbed two more from the rack beside her. “Oh yeah. Mama’s happy.”
Thirteen dresses later, we walked out of the mall like two vixens in a music video, slow motion with the wind blowing in our hair as we high-fived one another with the winning dress in hand. Boom!
“Thank you for helping me, Mom. I must admit, it’s pretty cool to have a mama that’s a friend too.”
She grabbed my hand. “You and I are more than friends, Fern. We’re like a really small gang.”
I nodded. “Oooh. We’re like bad bitches.”
“Yes, we may talk too much and be bad influences at times, but damn we’re fun.” We continued holding hands with her car in sight.
I nudged her with my shoulder “Yup, and we will not be remembered as people who kept their mouths shut. Ever.”
She unlocked her door as I walked to the passenger side while she yelled. “Don’t mess with us. There’s regular crazy, and then there’s crazy with an internet connection to crazy!”
After a full day of Sharon and Fern time, I locked my door and bedroom window—Sharon is capable of anything—and took a delightful bubble bath.
I put some curls in my hair, and after several failed attempts, ended up with beautiful fake lashes that I prayed would stay on. The last thing I needed was an eyelash kurplunking into Gabe’s cocktail.
I stood at Fern’s front door just about to ring the doorbell when it flew open with Sharon standing there sporting a smile. She reached up and cupped my face with her hands. “Hello, you sweet boy.”
Her warm hands on my face along with that look in her eye brought my adoptive mother back for a moment. The tiny woman who was a force to be reckoned with. The one who taught and scared the crap out of me at the same time.
She looked me up and down. “Oh, Gabriel, you look so handsome in that suit!” She peeked around me. “And you have a car and driver?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Come on in.” She pulled me inside the toasty house. “Jerry, Gabriel’s here.”
Jerry rose and walked over. “Well, look at you.” He extended his hand, and we shook.
“Thank you.”