“I mean after Big Al. How are you?” he asks me, and I see a sense of worry in him, but it’s full with derision. I know as soon as he can, he will be changing his mood once again. “I know I just left, but I couldn’t believe you got hurt. It changed my view on everything you’ve been through.”
I snort in disbelief. “Believe me, Papà, what Big Al did doesn’t even get close to the worst I have been through because of you. Unfortunately, he left a physical mark. It doesn’t mean he’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” I can see that rocks my father, but I’m in no mood to play loving families. We are far past that. “Let’s just survive tonight, and we’ll go from there,” I remark and permanently leave, pleasantly relieved when he doesn’t call out after me or follow.
I make my way quickly through the house, now noticing the amount of people around making the house fit for a king. I ignore all of the hubbub – It doesn’t involve me, and my input would be futile. I just walk to my bedroom, throw my door shut, and head to the bathroom to turn the shower on. I allow the preparations outside of my door dissolve with the heat of the water.
When I come out of bathroom, I find an outfit hanging on the frame of my four-poster bed. I approach with caution, unaware of what my father has chosen for me. I even take a look around to see if the person who had placed it here is still around. But I’m alone, the door is even closed.
As I get closer, I notice a note and tear it away. I open the folded card to find my father’s well-presented scrawl. “You have half hour, Bambina. I hope this dress will look as beautiful on as I have thought.” I stare a little longer at the card and wonder if this is my welcome back gift or if that is still to come. Placing the card down upon my bed, I prepare myself to find out what dress he has chosen for me.
As I peel the zipper down slowly, I stand with bated breath as I watch the black colored love heart neckline appear. As I continue to pull at the zipper, I notice as the black begins to fizzle away like little petals, dissipating into a silk cream color. The bodice is patterned and form fitting, while the skirt falls away loosely into transparent netting, the same black pattern filters out across the entire skirt. It’s a truly magnificent dress, and I’m in awe. At the sight, I remove the entire cover from the dress and just allow myself to take in the breathtaking sight of this garment.
My father knows I have an extreme weak spot for dresses that are masterpieces, and this one is no exception.
Leaving the dress behind, I go over to my large vanity dresser. I pull the stool out and sit before the mirror. I take a look at myself and wonder how I should prepare for tonight. I don’t want to stand out too much. If anything, I want to fade into the background so I can disappear at midnight like some modern-day Italian Cinderella.
Picking up the small tub of moisturizer, I undo the lid and begin the time consuming job of beautifying myself just to be paraded away. I work silently, carefully applying foundation and eyeliner, mascara and blush, and finally, grabbing my favorite lipstick. My makeup is sultry with bedroom eyes and red lips while I pull the pins out of my hair to keep it down, loosely curled and naturally untamed.
Now comes the fun part – putting the dress on. I approach it and excitedly take it down from its hanging position. I remove it from the hanger, undo the zipper, and lay it out ready. I make quick work to pick a matching pair of black lingerie and dress in them before I go and pick the dress up one final time before I put it on.
The moment it slips over my body I can tell it fits me like a glove; even more so when I master the zipper and approach the mirror. As I look at my reflection, I realize this dress looks like one my mother wore once. Right before her death, my father and she went to a party at Big Al’s, and she wore a dress similar to this. After that, life just seemed to fall apart at the seams. It doesn’t stop me from wondering if I’ll meet with the same fate. It’d be apt, to say the least.
“I knew that dress would look magnificent on you, Bella,” my father’s voice breaks the silence in the room. He grins with pride, the adoration beginning to show. He raises a hand to rub his jaw as he looks me over. “I just knew that dress would look stunning.”
“You chose well,” I applaud, running my hands down the skirt of the dress. I look down at it and feel myself smiling like a fool. I truly love this dress. “I was just about to grab some heels and head down.”
“Okay,” he remarks stepping forward a little more. “But, please, go and put on your mother’s pearls,” my father states, his eyes glued to me, waiting for my defiance. “Then you’ll be ready.”
My hand instinctively rises to touch my bare neckline, and I frown. “They won’t go with this dress. They’ll look out of place.”