“Ah!” Monique nods, reaching out. “Let’s see.”
She takes the stack of photos from Ali and sifts through them. She's quiet for a long time, taking the measure of each picture fully. I wish it wasn’t so quiet, it makes me pick at a non-existent piece of lint as my insecurities rise. I don’t want to ruin this for Ali. I don’t want her to look back on this day and wish I hadn’t been there.
“Do you think you’ll be able to help us?” Sam asks, fidgety. “She waited until the last minute,” she adds, giving Ali a face which only makes Ali give her a face back.
“Of course,” Monique responds, very seriously. “I have dresses on hand that will need to be altered, but I promise you, love,” she turns her attention from the photos to Ali, “you will fall in love with one of them and so will your mother.” The beam of a smile Ali returns and glistening of her eyes forces a wide smile from me too.
“Oh,” Sam responds, with a clap not unlike the one Ali had before introductions outside. “Well, alright!”
“Come, come. Let us get you started,” Monique says with a smile of her own. “The fitting room is right here. Marcus will be in with some champagne shortly.” I don’t know who Marcus is, but I could use that champagne. So at the moment, he is my hero in the making.
Ali beams, following Monique to an area behind a heavy pink brocade curtain and leaving us alone. The second, Ali’s gone I catch Lindsay looking at me, then she rolls her eyes and leans over to whisper to Sam. My body temperature drops as I look at Ellie, who gives me a sympathetic smile.
“I don’t know much about wedding dress shopping,” I say, fumbling for something to break the ice.
“Oh, me neither. My sister came here for her wedding dress, though,” Ellie talks to me easily. She runs her hand over her dark hair, which is up in a messy bun. “It’s nice. Monique is something else.”
“Yes this place is beautiful,” I agree.
A door opens on the far side of the room, and an older man comes in with a tray of glasses and a bottle of champagne.Oh, thank goodness. He doesn’t say much other than polite necessities. He simply pours the champagne into flutes and passes them out.
“Thank you,” I tell him, accepting the champagne gratefully. It’s sweet, and the bubbles tickle my tongue.
“Mmmm,” Ellie says. “Thank God for alcohol.”
“Yes, I was looking forward to this,” I say with a shrug to make my words seem casual. “So how do you know Ali?”
“Ali was my roommate during our first couple of years of college,” Ellie says.
“Ahh. I was wondering how you knew each other.”
Ellie smiles and sips her champagne. Before I'm forced to think of something else to say, Ali makes her first appearance.
She’s stunning, wearing a silky number that has a strappy back, a simple front, and clings to her hips. Oh my goodness. She’s a sight to see.
“Oooh, champagne!” she says, rushing to pick up her glass from where Marcus left the tray.
Her sip of champagne comes first and then she makes her way to the mirror, the dress gliding flawlessly. Without even standing on the pedestal, she pans the dress.
“Mmmm, no,” she says. “Monique is bringing more options. I just can’t see meeting at the altar in this... the straps remind me of like… bondage.”
I laugh, a soft feminine laugh. “If you say so. I think you look beautiful.”
“It’s beautiful,” Lindsay says. “Bondage or not.”
Ali sweeps over to the ottoman, perching beside me.
“I know all about these bitches,” she says, leaning closer to me. “But nothing about you, Grace. Tell me about yourself.”
“What do you want to know?” The small bit of tension that left with Ali’s joke comes back full force.
“I don’t know. Where did you grow up?”
“Here. I’m an Atlanta baby.”
“And your family? Big, small?” She asks another easy question.
“Small family. It’s just myself and my younger sister, besides my mom.”
