Let the Devil Wear Black
Despite our lack of dates, Whitley absolutely insisted that Justine and I go VCU’s homecoming dance. In addition to that, she had insisted on driving us to the mall to search for the perfect dresses. I followed Whitley’s lead and walked through the doors of the mall, shaking my head. She was obviously in charge of the entire expedition, so Justine and I opted just to follow behind as she led the way through the mall’s stores.
We wandered through several stores without much luck, making small talk about classes and homecoming traditions to pass the time. Finally, Whitley lead us into Macy’s, which I knew was a little out of my price range, but I didn’t want to say anything. I supposed I could just try a few dresses on and if I found one I liked, call my dad later and hope that he would send some extra money my way. I hadn’t spoken to him for a while, anyway. I had been dreading the phone call, knowing he would ask about mom and I was not prepared to deal with how awkward that would be.
“How about this one, Toria?” Justine asked, holding up a complicated looking dress in silver with black ribbons across the chest. We both knew exactly how to pick out things the other would like, but this one looked a little strange even for me. Still, I was willing to trust her taste.
“Sure, I’ll try it. Do they have my size?”
She riffled through the rack for a moment, then held out the dress and smiled. “Yup, here it is.”
I flipped through the dresses on the rack next to her, and grabbed another dress that looked like it might be a better fit for me. It was a simple black dress with a circle skirt and a large red flower on the side.
Whitley came up to my side then, her arms loaded down with several dresses in a rainbow of colors. “Why don’t you try this one? I really like it, but I’m not sure it suits me. I hate me in fuchsia.”
I looked at the dress she held. It was shimmery fuchsia satin with a wide black waistband. It was absolutely perfect – and $150. I bit my lip and stared at the price tag for a minute, then took the hanger from Whitley and said, “Alright. I’ll try it.”
The three of us headed to the dressing rooms together, and found that they were all empty. We walked toward the back row anyway, just for the privacy to talk to each other through the walls.
Just as I was wiggling out of my jeans, Whitley’s voice rang out. “So, you should know that Donovan will probably ask you to go to the dance with him, Toria.”
“We just broke up!” I squealed, unzipping the black dress and stepping into it.
“Doesn’t matter, I told you he was always hot and cold. He’ll come back to you. Give him time,” she said.
“I guess. What if I don’t want him to?” I groaned, struggling to zip myself into the dress. “Justine, can you come zip me up?”
“Sure thing,” she called out and second later popped her head through the curtain. She wore a simple coral sheath dress that looked nice with her auburn hair. I turned around and held my hair up so that she could reach the zipper.
“Why don’t you just ask Zac to go with you?” Justine asked, her voice loud enough for Whitley to hear the question as well.
“That’s a great idea,” Whitley answered for me.
I shook my head, letting my hair fall back down around my shoulders as Justine finished doing up the zipper. “No. Definitely not. He’s being nice when you guys are around, but he’s really being a dick about the whole Donovan thing. You weren’t there for our argument. It was bad. And did you guys already forget about his other little girl? He swears there’s nothing between them, but I don’t believe it. He’s just so weird.”
“That’s because he loves you, girly,” Justine said, then ducked back out of the dressing room before she could see the dirty look I was giving her.
“I’m not asking him. If he wants to go with me, he can ask me himself. And I really doubt that is going to happen,” I said, contemplating how the dress looked. It was a bit plain; after all, how many girls would be wearing little black dresses? I did want to stand out, even though it was silly. It was just a theatre kid thing, I guess. I wiggled the dress around until I was able to lower the zipper.
“You never know,” Justine said. “The boy might come to his senses yet.”
I rolled my eyes as I pulled the second dress – the silver one Justine had given me – off the hanger and tried to pull it on. “Umm… Justine. I think the dress you picked is a no-go. That is, unless I want to blind people with my cleavage.”
“Oh yeah? That’s too bad,” She said. “Well I think I found the one I want.”
“Me too,” Whitley called out.
“Good for you guys,” I said under my breath, wiggling back out of the dress and replacing it on the hanger. Reluctantly, I removed the fuchsia dress from its hanger. I almost didn’t want to try it on. I knew that if it was perfect, it would break my heart to put it back on the rack. Hopefully I would still be able to buy it eventually, but leaving the store without it for now would not be easy.
Finally, I pulled the dress on and zipped it up. I turned my back away from the mirror at first, afraid to see it. I was able to zip it almost all the way up with the dress turned around backwards, then wiggle it around the right way. When I finally turned myself toward the mirror, I was disheartened. The dress was perfect. Absolutely. And way, way more than I wanted to spend, especially for one night with no good reason to be dressed up so nicely anyway.
“Come on out, Toria,” Justine said, “We want to see how you look. We’ve gotta see how we all look, since we’re probably going to be each others’ dates.”
“Hasn’t Taylor said anything about the dance?” I asked, hoping not to strike a raw nerve.
I heard Whitley’s groan first, then she replied, “Only that he hates dances. Which I’m pretty sure is a complete lie. I told him I’m still going and I’d like to see him there, so there’s no pressure on him. No sweat if he doesn’t show up.”
Poking my head out of the dressing room, I remarked, “Wow, that sounds a lot more relaxed than you were a couple days ago.”
Whitley emerged from the dressing room to my left and shrugged. “Well, it’s a pretty recent development. I was still kind of upset, but the thing with you and Donovan made me think. I’m expecting way too much from Taylor, way too soon. So I’m going to relax and let him figure out whatever has him so pissy.”
“That sounds like a good plan,” I said. “Besides, we can all go to the dance together and make those guys feel like complete idiots for not asking us.”
And judging by our dresses, they definitely would feel that way. Whitley wore a tight navy dress with ruching all down the sides. It was one shouldered, with a large, matching navy flower on the shoulder strap. Justine’s dress was cream colored, with a lacy bodice and a ruffled skirt, separated by a large bow. The color looked even more perfect for her than the coral dress I had seen her in earlier. And as for me, I had to admit that Whitley’s pick was perfect. Still, the price tag left my reflection in the large mirror outside our stalls looking much less happy than the other girls’.
“What’s wrong, girl? That dress looks amazing on you,” Whitley asked, grabbing my arm and giving it a shake.
“I know, I really like it,” I replied. “It’s just that I don’t know if I can afford it. I can’t buy it tonight, but hopefully I can come back and get it. If not, I’ll either wear one I’ve already got or buy a cheaper one. Maybe the black one I tried on.”
“Well, I am definitely getting this dress,” Justine replied.
“Me too,” Whitley said, beaming at her reflection.
I wanted to be happy for the two of them. They would look great at the dance. It would have been nice to have enjoyed our little shopping trip, but it just didn’t turn out that way. I watched Justine and Whitley pay for their dresses and followed them around as they searched for the perfect shoes, but I just couldn’t muster up much enthusiasm for them. The whole time, all I could think about was how I had manged to make both Donovan and Zac angry at me, and how much I dreaded calling my dad to beg for money.
Two hours later, I sat in my dorm room still dreading the phone call. Justine had met up with some people to study and I was lucky to have the night off from rehearsal. I tried to distract myself and prolong the inevitable by watching reruns of CSI, but it wasn’t working. I knew I would eventually have to make the call. Avoiding it wasn’t helping anything.
With a groan, I picked up my cell phone and flipped through the address book for my dad’s entry. I pressed call and listened to the drone of the ringer in my ear. After several rings, he finally picked up.
“Hello?”
“Dad, it’s me. Your only daughter,” I said.
He chuckled softly into the phone. “Of course, I recognized your voice. You know I never remember to check the caller ID thingamabob, though.”
“I know, dad.”
“I was thinking of calling you tonight. How are things going at college?”
Sighing, I flopped down onto my bed. I was doing my best to relax and not make such a big deal of this conversation. “Things are good. Rehearsals are taking up a lot of my time, but that’s nothing unusual.”
“Classes are good? Not too hard for you, I’m sure.”
“Classes are fine,” I replied. “Lots of reading, but it’s not really difficult. Just takes a lot of planning to get everything done, you know?”
“I know,” he replied with a knowing chuckle. Of course he knew; my dad had been a college chemistry professor since before I was born. If there was one thing he knew, it was college. And chemistry, of course.
“Listen, Dad… umm, there’s a homecoming dance here next week and I found a dress I would really love to have, but it’s $150 and I just wasn’t sure if I should get it. I don’t really have enough money to spare for that,” I managed to stutter out.
Without a delay, he replied, “Of course, isn’t there enough money in your account?”
“There is, but… are you sure?”
“Of course. If you want the dress, get it. You know I don’t mind. It’s your mother who doesn’t like to throw money around, even when she has plenty to throw,” he said.
I knew Dad was right. I had inherited both his expensive taste and my mother’s thriftiness. That combination meant that I loved shopping, but suffered from intense guilt trips over even essential and reasonable purchases. It was no fun at all, especially now that I was on my own with no one to veto my choices.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said. “I’ll go to the ATM on campus tomorrow.”
“Okay, sounds like a plan. I’ll transfer some more money in later so you don’t have to worry about running out. Have you talked to your mother lately?”
I sighed. “Not for a while. She keeps telling me that her and Jeff are too busy to come visit.”
“Well, give her some time. She’ll come around. She always does, you know,” he replied.
“I hope you’re right. I’ll talk to you later, okay? I’ve gotta run,” I replied, and it was a complete lie. I just wanted to end the conversation about Mom before it got even more awkward.
“Alright, girl. I’ll call you in a couple days. Keep up the good work at school.”
“Bye, Dad.”
I shut the phone, knowing that he never said goodbye. It was just one of his many quirks. I hoped he was right about Mom, but I had my doubts. I wished I could just depend on myself to know the truth, or at least trust what everyone told me, but I just could not get rid of all the doubt gnawing at my mind.