Page 5 of Last Letters to Ara
“Fine.”
“If we see anyone I know, we have to leave.”
“Agreed.”
Joke’s on him, I’ll never find anything I like.
A moment later I realize that the joke’s on me. These dresses are beautiful.
Everywhere I turn, there is gorgeous dress after gorgeous dress. I can’t help but wish that someday I would be able to create something as beautiful as these gowns.
One in particular catches my eye. It reminds me of something that a Disney villain would wear, rather than one of the princesses. The tulle is a sparkly black, rather than pink or blue, with a sweetheart neckline and layered tulle starting from the waist, flowing all the way down. I hate to admit it, but I immediately love it. “That one.”
Dad wisely keeps his mouth shut as I ask the lady to put it in a fitting room for me.
A deal is a deal. One dress and I can go home.
I step inside the spacious changing room and unceremoniously kick off my Converse, followed by my t-shirt and jeans. I leave on my bra, because I need as much help as I can get in the boob department. I refuse to look at the price tag because based on the luxurious design of this store, I won’t want to know.
I’ve only just stepped into the dress as the sales lady pops her head in to see if I need help with the zipper. Does no one teach these people how to knock!?
I can’t stay irritated for long because...this dress?Wow.
Dad won’t let me leave until he’s seen what I’ve chosen to try on, so I pick up the layered skirts and head out. My dislike for the lady increases after she insists I stand on the gigantic pink podium in front of a great big mirror.
The look on Dad’s face melts my annoyance. This man, of little emotion and little words, is on the brink of tears. My heart softens and I give him a genuine smile.
“Do you want that one?”
I shake my head. “Dad, it is way too expensive, and I still don’t want to go to prom.”
“Because of the other girls?”
I nod. Though if I did go, this would undoubtedly be the dress I’d wear.
“You look so beautiful, Ara.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Maybe dress shopping isn’t so bad after all.
• • •
“Can I pick the movie tonight?” I ask, as Dad flicks on the TV. “It’s the least you could do after torturing me.”
“Don’t be dramatic, it was just a bit of shopping.” Eye roll. “And why? You don’t like the movies I’ve been picking?”
“I can only take so many Star Treks in a row...”
“And you thinkyoucan pick better?
“I’m not saying that they will be better for you, but since you’ve been punishing me with your movie choices, I get to choose at least one.”
Dad groans. He knows it’s only fair. “In that case, I’m going to make some popcorn so I have something to distract me from whatever vampire garbage you’re surely about to choose.”
This makes me laugh. Dad always makes his own popcorn from scratch, and it shits all over what you get at the movies.
I open Netflix and scroll straight to the Romance section. I’m not ashamed of loving a good chick flick. I know Dad secretly enjoys them, too.
