Page 21 of The PTA President
Nat: Sweet! Can we wear matching outfits?
Candace: Now that you mention it..;)
“You smile like such a fucking idiot when you’re texting the Prez.” Megan’s leaning against the doorframe like a tiny hippie stalker.
“Go away. Your presence wasn’t requested,” I mumble, scrolling through my texts.
“Don't mind me, sext away. I love a good show.”
Ignoring her creepy stance and watchful eyes, I grab my makeup bag along with theonlydress I own. It’s a floor-length black velvet gown with lace detailing up the arms.
“Can I borrow your black pumps with the studs?” Dirty clothes go flying as I tear my room apart searching for the curling iron.
“Sure, fancy pants. Take whatever you need, just make sure you use protection tonight,” she sneers, leaving the room to grab her shoes.
“You’re such a fucking troll. Why have I kept you around this long?” I yell out at her.
“Because of my amazing cooking skills.” Giant black pumps with silver studs come flying at me from the hallway.
“Thank you, darling. You’re a lifesaver, but you can’t cook for shit.” After throwing the shoes into my tote, I’m ready to go.
When I grab the door handle to leave, nerves fire through my body as if I’m going on a first date.
“What's wrong? Forget how to use the door?” Megan’s stirring up some brown liquid in a clear mixing bowl, watching me suspiciously. “Uh oh. I know that look.”
“It’s not like that. My brain malfunctioned, thinking I forgot eyeliner.” I wince at my own lie.
“Liar, you’d bring eyeliner to your funeral. You like the Prez, just admit it. It’s not like I don't know. I live with you and see the way you get all flustered when you’re sending her morning texts.”
Throwing caution to the wind, I word vomit, pouring out my heart to my best friend. “I have the world’s biggest crush, and it’s all-consuming. When I'm not with her, I wanna be, and when I’m with her, it’s like nothing else matters. It’s not just that she’s next-level beautiful and has the most amazing smile with a body I wanna run my tongue over. She’s got this depth and ease to her that nobody else sees. The night we went to The Postal Service, she was hanging out of the car, and it was like she wasexperiencing life for the first time, and I got to be there with her. I want that feeling for the rest of my life. If I can wake up with her and view life in that way, I would die happy.”
“I don’t mean to point out the obvious, but she’s straightandhas two kids. You can’t get all sappy and forget about reality, and hers is a lot different from yours, honey.” She hesitates, poking at her bowl of goo. “I mean, does she even know?”
My eyes water as I shake my head. “I wanna live in my reality though,withher. This becomes too real if she finds out, and I drag her down memory lane. What if she doesn’t like what she hears, or worse, what if she doesn’t feel the same way?”
“She might surprise you.” She shrugs. “I mean, you guys have gotten close pretty fast. You’re never gonna find what you’re looking for if you don’t let anyone in. I know it’s scary, dude, but you’ve gotta be honest with her.”
“I’ll tell her tonight, after the dance.” I nod.
“I love you. You’ve got this.” She nods back and returns to her mixing, while I double-check I actually do have my eyeliner.
Driving down Candace’s street has become familiar, although it still weirds me out how different your house can look when your husband’s totally loaded. Chills run down my spine as I imagine all her neighbors peeking through their overpriced blinds, inspecting my beat-up car with paint chips and a busted bumper, cruising down their perfect street.
She answers the door in a silky pink robe and fluffy white slippers. Her blonde hair is held together by a dozen pink curlers. “Sorry, I look like a mess.” She looks down, examining her robe. Drool seeps out of my mouth while my eyes glaze over, curious if she’s naked underneath.
“Your eyebrows are matching.”Cool beans, I’ll just go bury myself alive.
“Thanks…?” She turns around, leading me into the house.
So fucking stupid, this is worse than any crush I had in middle school. I’m a grown woman who lives on her own, kind of. Pays her own bills, does what she wants, sleeps with who she wants, and yet I spend two seconds with Candace and my brain turns to mush. I can’t do this, I’m not about to fall for a straight woman with two daughters.
“Oh good! You brought your own curling iron. I only have one since the girls took theirs with them. Come on, we can set up in my bathroom.” She’s a few steps ahead, giving me enough space to check out her ass that’s barely hidden by the robe. Her long, sculpted legs are on display for me to salivate over.
Once we start caking on foundation, I’m in my element, and the nerves are gone. Candace has a small pile of makeup. However, I have every eyeshadow palette I own, three mascara tubes, and enough blush to cover our bodies spread across my side of the mirror.
“You’re lucky.” She looks over into the mirror, curling her lashes. “You get to wear all that and not look older than you are. If I wear too much concealer, all the lines around my eyes will show, and I’ll look older than a grandmother.”
“Oh, please, what lines? Your face is like a baby doll, there’s nothing wrong with it.”
