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Her mother stood in the doorway, wearing a pleated black miniskirt with black boots and a tight blue T-shirt. The top--which Lauren thought looked suspiciously new--made her look much too thin. The once beautiful bone structure in her face was now a collection of sharp edges and dark hollows. Booze and cigarettes and too many bad years had chiseled away at her beauty, leaving only the stunning green of her eyes. Against the harsh pallor of her face, Moms eyes were still arresting. Once Lauren had thought her mother was the most lovely woman in the world--lots of people had back then. For years, Mom had gotten by on her looks; as her beauty had faded, so had her ability to cope.
Mom brought a cigarette to her lips and took a long drag, exhaling sharply. "Youre staring at me. "
Lauren sighed. So it was going to be one of those nights; the kind where Mom came home more sober than drunk and pissed off about it. Lauren got slowly to her feet, started picking up the mess in the living room. "Im not staring. "
"You should be at work," Mom said, kicking the door shut behind her.
"So should you. "
Mom laughed at that and flopped down on the sofa, putting her feet up on the coffee table. "I was headed that way. You know how it is. "
"Yeah. I know. You have to walk past the Tides. " She heard the bitterness in her voice and wished it werent there.
"Dont start with me. "
Lauren went to the sofa and sat down on the arm. "You took the twenty bucks from under my pillow. That was my money. "
Mom put out one cigarette and lit up another. "So?"
"The homecoming dance is less than two weeks away. I . . . " Lauren paused, hating to admit her need, but what choice did she have? "I need a dress. "
Mom looked up at her. Smoke swirled in the air, seeming to exaggerate the distance between them. "I got knocked up at a school dance," Mom finally said.
Lauren fought the urge to roll her eyes. "I know. "
"Fuck the dance. "
Lauren couldnt believe it still hurt, after all these years. When would she stop believing that her mom might change? "Thanks, Mom. As usual, youre a big help. "
"Youll see. When youre older. " Mom leaned back, exhaling smoke. Her mouth trembled, and for the merest of moments, she looked sad. "None of it matters. What you want. What you dream of. You live with whats left. "
If Lauren believed that, shed never be able to get out of bed. Or off a bar stool. She reached down, brushed the blond hair out of her mothers eyes. "Its going to be different for me, Mom. "
Her mother almost smiled. "I hope so," she murmured so softly Lauren had to lean forward to hear it.
"Ill find a way to pay the rent and buy a dress," she said, finding her courage again. It had left her for a few moments there, and without its heat she had gone cold and numb, but now it was back. She slid off the arm of the sofa and went back to her mothers bedroom. In the overstuffed closet, she looked for something she could redo into a dress for the dance. She was holding up a black satin nightgown when the doorbell rang.
She didnt answer it, but her mother yelled out to her: "Miz Mauks here. "
Lauren swore under her breath. If only Mom hadnt opened the door. Forcing a smile, she tossed the tiny negligee on the bed and went back into the living room.
Mrs. Mauk was there, smiling. A big cardboard box was on the floor at her feet. Beside her, Mom was buttoning up a beautiful black pant coat made of the softest wool; it had a tapered waist and a shawl collar.
Lauren frowned.
"Its an old ladys coat," Mom muttered, walking down the hallway toward the bathroom.
"Mrs. Mauk?" Lauren said.
"Theres one for you, too. " She bent down and pulled a green coat with faux fur trim from the box.
Lauren gasped. "For me?"
It was almost exactly the coat Melissa Stonebridge wore. The richest, most popular girl at Fircrest. Lauren couldnt help reaching for it, touching the soft fur. "You shouldnt have. I mean . . . I cant . . . " She drew her hand back. Mrs. Mauk couldnt afford this.
"Its not from me," Mrs. Mauk said, her mouth forming into a sad and knowing smile. "A woman from Help-Your-Neighbor brought it by. Her name was Angela. Shes one of the DeSarias--you know, from that restaurant on Driftwood. Id say she could afford it. "
Charity. The woman somehow had seen Lauren and pitied her.
