eighty-six. But I probably have shoes at home that could go with a dress.”
We look around the store, a family-owned formal wear outlet that occupies an old Wal-Mart, and find a section of dresses for a much lower price. I’m bummed that the more beautiful dresses are out of my price range, but I keep reminding myself (and Becca) that this isn’t prom. It’s just the Winter Festival and it’s not a real formal event but people like to get really dressed up for it.
Back at home, Bentley already has his little black tux laid out on his desk in preparation of the festival. I’m still trying to find something that’s hot and cheap. The only thing that would be worse than not finding the perfect dress would be finding it and then attending the festival without Jace.
As if on cue, my phone lights up with a new text message.
Jace: I miss you baby.
Me: I miss you more. Guess what I’m doing?
Jace: Um…watching that show about zombies?
Me: I’m shopping for a new dress.
Jace: What for?
Becca gives me a concerned look but I turn away and pretend to look at ugly pink dresses at the rack closest to me. My phone feels heavy in my hand as I debate what I should text back. I can’t believe he doesn’t remember why I would be shopping for a dress. I guess he had no intention of coming back here to go to the festival with me. Maybe he’s even forgotten that it will also be my birthday.
Me: If you can’t remember why then I guess I don’t need to keep shopping.
Five minutes go by. I slump into an uncomfortable chair outside of the fitting rooms and watch Becca parade by in three different golden dresses, all within her price range and all pretty awful compared to the expensive one. I still don’t have a reply from Jace and I’ve never been so freaking hurt in my life. This is my boyfriend. The guy I am completely crazy about. The guy I thought was completely crazy about me.
I almost jump out of the chair when my phone buzzes.
Jace: I don’t care what you wear to the festival, I just want to be there with you.
Normally that would be sweet. But right now I’m just not having it.
Me: Have you figured out if you’ll be in town or not?
Jace: Not yet.
Another hour passes and we’re still at the dress store, only at least now I’m not watching Becca try on dresses in her price range. I’m trying on shoes just for the hell of it. Having given up on looking at the dresses, I’ve ventured over to the countless racks of discount shoes, ranging from boring black flats to six inch stiletto clear plastic heels with rhinestones all over them.
Who needs to waste money on a stupid dress anyway? Not me. Why would I want to look beautiful and dressed up at a place where I won’t even have a date? The digital camera that’s property of Lawson High School will be my date, and it doesn’t care what I look like.
Later, after having convinced Becca that I’m totally fine and my quietness is only because my head hurts and not because of anything bothering me, I begin doing what I’ve gotten really good at lately: lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. It seems to be the only pastime I can find the energy to do now that the large rock of depression has formed in my throat and settled in the center of my chest.
Is my relationship over?
Why is that all I can think about?
I glance out the window but Chase isn’t at his house. That means I won’t be able to casually walk past my window a million times, hoping to “accidentally” see him. It seems strange that I’d rather talk to Chase about my problems than my own best friend, but lately everything is strange. Plus maybe I just need some guy wisdom.
My phone hasn’t rang all afternoon, and texting Jace in the dress shop is the last I’ve heard of him. I remember back when he worked at Mixon Motocross Park just forty-five minutes away, he would talk to me all day long. A lot of guys aren’t into constant texting or phone calls, and I can understand why.
We look around the store, a family-owned formal wear outlet that occupies an old Wal-Mart, and find a section of dresses for a much lower price. I’m bummed that the more beautiful dresses are out of my price range, but I keep reminding myself (and Becca) that this isn’t prom. It’s just the Winter Festival and it’s not a real formal event but people like to get really dressed up for it.
Back at home, Bentley already has his little black tux laid out on his desk in preparation of the festival. I’m still trying to find something that’s hot and cheap. The only thing that would be worse than not finding the perfect dress would be finding it and then attending the festival without Jace.
As if on cue, my phone lights up with a new text message.
Jace: I miss you baby.
Me: I miss you more. Guess what I’m doing?
Jace: Um…watching that show about zombies?
Me: I’m shopping for a new dress.
Jace: What for?
Becca gives me a concerned look but I turn away and pretend to look at ugly pink dresses at the rack closest to me. My phone feels heavy in my hand as I debate what I should text back. I can’t believe he doesn’t remember why I would be shopping for a dress. I guess he had no intention of coming back here to go to the festival with me. Maybe he’s even forgotten that it will also be my birthday.
Me: If you can’t remember why then I guess I don’t need to keep shopping.
Five minutes go by. I slump into an uncomfortable chair outside of the fitting rooms and watch Becca parade by in three different golden dresses, all within her price range and all pretty awful compared to the expensive one. I still don’t have a reply from Jace and I’ve never been so freaking hurt in my life. This is my boyfriend. The guy I am completely crazy about. The guy I thought was completely crazy about me.
I almost jump out of the chair when my phone buzzes.
Jace: I don’t care what you wear to the festival, I just want to be there with you.
Normally that would be sweet. But right now I’m just not having it.
Me: Have you figured out if you’ll be in town or not?
Jace: Not yet.
Another hour passes and we’re still at the dress store, only at least now I’m not watching Becca try on dresses in her price range. I’m trying on shoes just for the hell of it. Having given up on looking at the dresses, I’ve ventured over to the countless racks of discount shoes, ranging from boring black flats to six inch stiletto clear plastic heels with rhinestones all over them.
Who needs to waste money on a stupid dress anyway? Not me. Why would I want to look beautiful and dressed up at a place where I won’t even have a date? The digital camera that’s property of Lawson High School will be my date, and it doesn’t care what I look like.
Later, after having convinced Becca that I’m totally fine and my quietness is only because my head hurts and not because of anything bothering me, I begin doing what I’ve gotten really good at lately: lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. It seems to be the only pastime I can find the energy to do now that the large rock of depression has formed in my throat and settled in the center of my chest.
Is my relationship over?
Why is that all I can think about?
I glance out the window but Chase isn’t at his house. That means I won’t be able to casually walk past my window a million times, hoping to “accidentally” see him. It seems strange that I’d rather talk to Chase about my problems than my own best friend, but lately everything is strange. Plus maybe I just need some guy wisdom.
My phone hasn’t rang all afternoon, and texting Jace in the dress shop is the last I’ve heard of him. I remember back when he worked at Mixon Motocross Park just forty-five minutes away, he would talk to me all day long. A lot of guys aren’t into constant texting or phone calls, and I can understand why.
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