“Oh, dear.” Lisa clutches her back and remains in a hunched position. “I think I pulled something.”
Great. Now I’ve hurt this kind woman. “Here, let me help you lay down.” I slowly walk her into my apartment.
“Don’t get old, darling. It’s no fun.” She lays down and her face pinches up in pain.
The expression is familiar. But that’s strange. Why would I have seen this woman in pain before? It’s right there, on the blurry edge of my memory, but I can’t clear it up.
I shake my head. I’m just overly tired.
“You’re not old.” I smile at her, then retrieve an ice pack from the freezer.
“Have you lived here long?” she asks when I return with the pack.
“A few years.”
“In Phoenix?” she clarifies.
She’s a little nosy. Maybe she’s just one of those people who loves to ask questions. “Since I got pregnant.”
“Hmmm.” She looks around my apartment like she’s trying to figure something out.
I leave her to her mystery and return to the hall to examine the box. This is because of Maddie, it has to be. I call her.
“Hey,” she answers on the first ring. “I can’t talk long. The devil is present.”
I laugh at her seriousness. “Is he hot?”
She grunts. “I hear it’s hot in hell.”
I laugh out loud, and I imagine her turning her phone volume down so said devil doesn’t hear.
“What’s up?” she asks, already sounding distracted.
“There’s a giant box at my door, addressed to…. Fires and Frostys.”
“How big?”
“Bigger than my door,” I say, walking around and kicking the box, even though it says fragile. It’s not heavy enough to be a new fridge, but it’s not light either.
“Who’s the sender?” she asks.
I peer down at the label again. “Fairytale Attraction?”
“Ooh!” Maddie screams, and I yank the phone away from my ear. “It’s your dress! Open it, open it!”
“My dress? But why is it so big? Did it come with a fairy godmother?”
“Just open it,” she squeals.
“Okay.” I grab some scissors and begin cutting through the tape. It takes forever to do with one casted hand.This pain better be worth it.
The second the tape is free, bright orange tulle bursts from the box.
I jump out of the way, just in case a fairy godmother comes tumbling out with it. Or a dead body. The latter seems more likely.
“So? How is it?” Maddie asks, and I remember I’m still on the phone with her.
“Um. Just a sec.” I work on the tulle, pushing it down in the places it will move. There must be fifty layers on this thing. I yank the last layer down and am rewarded with my mom’s prom dress from 1988. On steroids.
