I push the memory aside and step into the dress, calling for the salesgirl to help close it in the back before walking backward, away from the mirror. “It’s still amazing,” I say more to myself than to her, but she nods excitedly in agreement as she helps me slip my feet into the heels I bought.
“Oh my God,” my mom says as she’s drinking her champagne, nearly spitting it out as she chokes a little on her words. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I say as I step onto the platform and twirl around, admiring the dress from the back, then catching my mom’s reflection in the mirror, the tears she promised now spilling down her cheeks. As I watch her watching me, mine glisten too, imagining my future daughter one day doing the same, saying a silent prayer that her heart will be sure as she spins on her platform, that she’ll choose a man worthy of her. That she’ll get it right the first time.
“Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“You seem really happy.”
“Of course I’m happy for you, honey.”
“No, I mean there’s something about you that’s different. Lately, you seem—”
“—lighter?” my mom offers.
“Exactly.” I smile, thinking of the man she’s been dating. “Is it Bill?”
“Oh, no, I told him we can’t see each other anymore.”
“What?” I knot my forehead. “Why? I thought things were going so well.”
“They were, but we, well I, quickly realized that we didn’t have a damn thing in common other than living next door to each other,” she says with a laugh. “You know about the only things he likes to do are grill out in the backyard and tinker with that old Chevy in his garage? I’d die from boredom!”
I study her face for a moment. “So then why are you so happy?”
“Because dating him was the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”
“But it didn’t work out,” I say, taking a careful sip of my champagne as I hold the flute away from my body, curious for her answer.
“I don’t know how to explain it exactly,” my mom says, holding out her glass so the associate can fill it again. “I feel like a huge weight has been lifted, because even though he wasn’t the one, I had a great time figuring out he wasn’t. It gave me hope that the right guy for me might be out there.” She walks over and stands next to me in front of the mirror, putting her arm around my waist. “I think I’m ready to finally move on.”
“Really?” I ask.
My mom nods before answering. “I was devastated when your dad left. And I worried for a long time how it would affect you.”
“Me?”
“I guess I didn’t want you to fear marriage because ours had failed.”
“I don’t, I mean I never did. Sometimes people just outgrow each other,” I say, wondering about my own relationship with Max, wondering if we’d outgrown each other and not even noticed.
“Anyway, it took me a long time to figure out who I was without your dad. Even longer to actually like the person I was without him.” She laughs awkwardly.
I shiver, goose bumps covering my bare shoulders and arms. I’d said similar words to Liam last night.
“Maybe my only daughter getting married has made me really think about my own life, but I’m starting to lament spending so much of my time focusing on my regrets,” my mom adds as she takes another sip of her champagne.
“I’m really happy for you,” I say, still shocked that I’m finally hearing the words I’ve been waiting for her to say.
She puts her arm around me and we stare at each other in the mirrored wall in front of us. “Now this doesn’t mean that I’m going to be Facebook friends with your dad and—”
“—the wife?”
“Leslie,” my mom says slowly, and I give her a short smile. “It’s time for me to finally let go of what could have been.”
“What could have been?”
“I think I was so stuck on what life could have been like if your dad hadn’t left—all the things we would’ve done together, so bitter that he was doing those things with someone else—that I really wasn’t living.”
“Wow,” is all I say, happy for my mom’s breakthrough, but sad thinking about all the years she lost.
“I know, right?” she says as she points at herself. “I’ve been putting all this time and effort into keeping this body fabulous and then not even using it!” She laughs as I cringe, the thought of her being sexual with someone making me want to gag. “The point is,” she continues, “even I know when it’s time to give up and move on to something better.”
I walk back to the dressing room, replaying my mom’s words. Of course she picks today to finally decide to start living her life again. I debate whether it would be selfish for me to go back now, knowing she might not have the same realizations next time. As I step out of my dress, it feels heavier this time, like a weight bearing down on me—the understanding that there were more lives than my own hanging in the balance.
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