I pinch the bridge of my nose, regretting the minor aggression against my bruised appendage.
With a sigh, I relent. “I’ll call Caleb and coordinate buying tickets with him tomorrow.”
“Oh, excellent, honey. I knew you’d come to your senses. I’ll talk to Holly about ordering your dress. Are you still a size six?”
I was never a size six.
I raise my postcard to study it again, drawing my focus away from the flood of emotions threatening to burst out of me. The “high steaks” pun releases some much-needed dopamine, calming my system.
I could figure out who’s sending these when I’m back in Tallow. Stalk a Staples, maybe, I don’t know, but it’d give me something to look forward to.
Oh, I should get waffles too.
“Twelve, actually.”
“Okay, well, they run large, so I’ll order you an eight.”
When has a bridesmaid’s dress in the history of bridesmaid dresses ever “run large”? Nope, can’t risk her messing with my waffles plans.
“You know what—I’ll call Holly and discuss ordering my dress from here. Okay? I think she wanted Clare and me to pick our own, and I venture Paris has better options than little ol’ Tallow, Mass.”
“Oh, yes—I suppose you’re right.”
“Okay, well, I really have to go.”
I swing my legs off the couch and trudge into the bedroom to clip the new card on the string of twinkling fairy lights, vines, and postcards lining the wall over my platform bed. It’s almost time to string up another row.
“One more thing, dear.”
Of course there is.
“Mm-hmm.”
I pluck the October postcard from its clip. A smile forms on my face, even though this conversation makes me want to bash my head through this fragile, poorly insulated wall. Best to wait for this concussion to heal before I cause another one.
October recounted the state fairs. The picture on the front captured a squirrel hidden in a pumpkin patch—just a small-town squirrel, living in a comely gourdprinted underneath.
“I have a few options for your date,” my mother drawls on as I half-listen, half-investigate my postcards. “Tyler Higgins grew into those teeth of his, and he’s over six feet.” Ah yes, the six-foot line of demarcation for potential suitors. Caroline was “forced” to eliminate much of the male population because, heaven forbid, I emasculate a man with my five-ten stature. “Or Charlie Bennet. He’s tall and took a liking to you in high school. I’m sure we could persuade him to escort you if you apologize for your little mishap.”
“It wasn’t a mishap. Charlie Bennet tried to grab my boob at lunch, and I shooed his hand away with a plastic fork. He over-dramatized the whole damn incident if you ask me.”
“The boy had a black eye, sweetheart.”
“I stick by myI didn’t give him thatstatement.” I just kind of stabbed his hand.
Another sigh. “I’ll ask Tyler’s mother if she thinks he’d be interested. He’s a doctor, well a veterinarian, but I suppose we can’t be picky with your little condition.”
My hand freezes on a postcard. She’s baiting me.
“I’m sorry your daughter’s a hard sell now that she’s damaged goods.”
“No, Evelina, that’s not fair. All I’m saying is certain things might be challenging for you, so you really shouldn’t waste time sitting idly by. You should be out pursuing good boys like—”
“Liam,” I cut her off. It became clear at a young age my mother would have sold her soul to the Devil if it meant he would date me.
Either she did, and the Devil didn’t hold true to his promises, or she never had a soul worth selling. I could never tell.
A long awkward pause hangs between us.
