Sanctity by S. M. Bowles Page A

saleslady for my department was extra attentive
since there was no one else to wait on and found dozens of dresses
for me to try.  I was not yet familiar with the concept
of  the one  but I had heard my mother use the expression
before.  After about ten dresses my mother pulled one over my
head and I suddenly realized exactly what it
meant. 
    The tag said that its color was eggplant,
which caused me to frown but it was definitely an appropriate
description.  The dress was an odd color between black and
purple and fell in soft pleats to just above my ankles.  There
was a wide black band that wrapped around the dress just above my
waist.  It had a hint of soft, fluttery sleeves that brushed
my shoulders and it was made of taffeta so it rustled as I
moved.  There was a bit of a shimmer to it as well and I loved
the way it looked on me.  I could tell by the expressions on
my mother and the saleslady that I had found just the right
dress.
    My mother made our purchase and then we
swung into the shoe store where we picked out some shiny, black
flats to go with my dress.  I was so relieved and couldn’t
help thinking that Saturday would be the best night of my
life. 
    “I’m so excited!” I told my mother.  “I
can’t wait to wear my dress and to see the ballet and sit in the
box!”
    She smiled at me in the mirror as we drove
home.  “You should leave it in the bag so it won’t get
dirty.  Make sure you hang it in your closet when we get home,
too, so it won’t get wrinkled.”
    “I will.”
    When the weekend finally rolled around I was
beside myself with the anticipation of going to the theater.
 Halfway through the afternoon my mom took a long bath and
spent an hour or two fixing her hair and make-up.  Before she
got dressed and put her finishing touches on she helped me get
ready.  She zipped me into my dress and asked me if I would
like her to fix my hair. 
    I mostly wore my hair down but it was such a
special occasion that I felt I had to agree to have her arrange it
in some way.  She brushed it out and put a deep part to the
side in it.  Afterwards she smoothed it all into a tight
ponytail that she bound back with a heavy tie.  Then she
twisted my hair around and around the tie until it formed a nice
bun.  She carefully pinned the bun into place and fetched her
jewelry box.  She rummaged through the various pieces and
found a few rhinestone pins that she placed in my hair to
accentuate it here and there.  When she was done she took me
to her bedroom and showed me how I looked in her big vanity
mirror.
    “You look so pretty,” she laid her hand on
my shoulder and smiled at my reflection in the mirror.
    “Thank you,” I said, “I really like my
hair.”
    I was not used to having my hair pulled back
from my face, it seemed so different, so grown-up.  I smiled
at myself and was sure my mother was right and that I did look very
pretty that night. 
    My mother shooed me out of the bedroom
because it was time for her to put her dress on and for my dad to
get ready.  He took a quick shower and put on his best
suit.  Just as he finished knotting his tie the buzzer
rang.  Both he and my mother stepped from their
bedroom. 
    My mother was wearing a long, red dress with
thin straps over her shoulders instead of sleeves.  She paired
it with some black heels and a long, black scarf that she wore
draped around her elbows.  To me my mother always looked
pretty but that night I thought she looked absolutely
beautiful.  I gave her a huge smile to let her know how nice I
thought she looked.
    “Hmm,” she said, “I wonder who that could
be.”
    My father pushed the button and spoke into
the intercom, “Yes?”
    “Your driver for the Arts Center, sir.”
    “Driver?” He looked from me to my mother
confusedly.
    He spoke into the intercom again, “We didn’t
call for a driver.”
    “No sir, Mr. Donovan sent his car.  He
said you were meeting him at the ballet tonight.”
    He raised his