Beautiful Pt. 02

"Okay, sure."

A young man stopped at the table and dropped off our bruschetta with a small plate for each of us. We tucked in, and our main courses arrived soon after. The food was sublime, perfect texture on my pasta and sauce, and Sandy's risotto was creamy and rich.

We talked about the match, with Sandy telling me that she thought Paige had played wonderfully. Adrienne, well...

"She's got a lot of talent. If I could just get her to listen to me she might really be something."

"Her parents were very pleased with themselves and their daughter."

Sandy nodded, smirking. "I Imagine. I'd've been a lot more pleased if she ever passed the ball. She left at least three grade A chances out there by taking bad shots."

"We won, though. That's good."

"We beat a team that was below five-hundred last year, and graduated seven seniors, including both their starting defensemen and their center mid. I wouldn't get too excited about it."

I smiled at her. "You're getting a little excited, though, huh?"

Sandy let go a giggle. "Maybe a little. It didn't suck."

When we finally got up to leave there were only two other groups still in the restaurant. We talked about everything, her playing in Europe and Asia, my summer trips to the mountains with my dad. Christmases and spring breaks, crazy things from college, she was so easy to talk to, and as we walked back out into the evening, I slipped my arm into hers without even thinking.

We got to my car, and I fiddled with my keys, not wanting the evening to end. I felt her hand on my shoulder, and I turned to face her, leaning back against my minivan. She moved closer, brushing a strand of my dark hair behind my ear.

"I had a lovely time tonight, Melanie."

I nodded, my lips parting as she moved closer. "Me too."

And then she was kissing me, my insides dissolving at the contact. I moaned, my hand sliding behind her head, and my mouth opening and admitting her searching tongue to caress mine. It was the deepest kiss we'd ever shared, and my body was heating up quickly.

"Melanie? Come home with me?"

Reality came crashing back, and my head dropped.

"Too soon, I'm sorry." Sandra kissed my forehead, which felt amazing, by the way, but I didn't look up.

"No, I'm sorry."

"Melanie, it's okay. We can take it as slow as you need, okay?"

"Okay." I played with the collar on her polo. "I really like you, Sandy. I just, I don't know."

She touched my cheek with her fingertips. "You don't have to know. We'll get there together." One side of her mouth lifted into an adorable smile as she looked into my eyes. "It's going to be so much fun falling in love with you."

I whimpered, my mind trying to wrap my head around what she'd just said. I felt a tear leak free as she pressed her lips to mine again. I don't know how long it lasted, but it was wonderful, and I wondered why the hell I wasn't getting into her car instead of mine.

Way too soon she pulled away. "Goodnight, Melanie."

"Bye." As I watched her walk away my emotions were swirling. Falling in love with me? Holy hell, what were we doing? What was I doing? My thoughts chased themselves around my brain the entire drive home.

I'd managed to get ready for bed, the simple tasks of taking off my makeup and putting on my nightgown calming me down. As I was plugging in my phone I saw a text had come through while I was in the bathroom.

Sandy - Dreaming about you, beautiful.

I covered my mouth with my hand, a tear slipping free. Oh, god, I was falling in love with her, too. Or maybe it was just because she was paying attention to me. I mean, it's been so damn long since anyone did that. Was it real? Damn, those kisses were real, and the way I could barely breathe when she was close to me, that was real.

And tomorrow night I was going to have to be fake, again. I didn't want to think about it, so I didn't. I thought about Sandy's pretty green eyes, her wry smile, the way they softened her aquiline features. I could be in her bed right now. What would she be doing to me? Or would she have just taken one look at me naked and thrown me out? That was more likely, probably. I looked at her text again, my eyes fixing on the last word. Maybe she really did think that.

As I lay back in the chair, my stylist washed my hair and I tried to pretend I was getting ready for a date with Sandy. The dark skinned young woman was stoically going about her business, trimming off any damaged ends, not asking about what I was doing tonight. I wouldn't have minded, but this was a high end boutique, and my mother would no more make small talk with a hairdresser than she would clean her own toilets, so they probably just assumed.

"Has my mother been here, yet?"

"No, Ma'am, she has an appointment in about an hour, I think."

"Scheduled conveniently after I leave." I chuckled. "Typical. Have you worked on her?"

"No, Ma'am. She wouldn't let, um, she's very particular about who she trusts to set her hair."

I laughed. "Yeah, that sounds like her. We're both cast-offs then. Not good enough."

I could see a shadow of fear and shame pass over the pretty young woman's face. "I'm sorry. Do you want someone else?"

"Absolutely not. I think I'm in excellent company."

She gave a shy smile, nodding and continuing her work. My faith in her was well rewarded, as the highlights she put into my dark hair looked amazing, and I loved the easy waves that fell down around my shoulder. They were free and bouncy, but still somehow elegant. I gave her a hug and a sizable tip, and when I got back into my van I took a selfie, something I do not do often. I lifted a shoulder, letting my head cock to the side, putting on my most coquettish smile, making my eyes soft.

I sent the picture to Sandy, and I almost instantly got a text back, the emoji with hearts for eyes.

Sandy - I still want to see the dress

Me- You will, I promise.

I started up the engine, glancing over my shoulder to the garment bag hanging in the back. My new dress was inside, altered and fitted. It had felt good when I'd tried it on, even without the industrial strength undergarments I was planning on using tonight.

I was too nervous to eat anything since breakfast, which was just a bowl of Special K (the kind with strawberries, I'm not a total masochist). There was supposed to be a dinner tonight, but we've already talked about me, food, and groups of people. So I was starving, but also queasy enough with nerves not to do anything about it.

It was getting to be six, so I set to my least favorite task of getting ready, pulling out my most effective shapewear. At least it would smooth out the worst of my lumps and bulges. My triple D bralette went on first, and then I lay down on my bed and prepared for the battle to come. After much grunting and groaning and sucking it in, I was able to zip up my medieval torture device (the aforementioned shapewear) and examine myself in the mirror. It may not be comfortable, but it definitely did its job.

I took time to put on my makeup, channeling everything my mother had ever taught me about understated elegance. I mean, she wasn't always wrong about everything. It looked good, which meant it was time to put on the dress and face the music.

Looking at myself in the mirror my mind flashed back to the first time I'd done this, or at least, the first time when I felt like a young woman instead of a kid. It had been homecoming of my freshman year, I was a member of the varsity cheer squad, and I looked completely different than I had just two years ago. It was a woman's figure looking back at me, with sultry eyes and a full bust. My mother had been standing next to me, smiling, and she'd called me beautiful for the first time I could remember.

Now I could barely see the echoes of that girl. I still had the hourglass figure, granted it was oversized and assisted by form shaping underwear, and somewhere the face of that bright-eyed girl was buried under all the years.

My phone buzzed from my bed stand, shaking me out of my reverie.

Sandra - Are you wearing your dress yet? Heart-eye emoji.

The clouds crowding my mind immediately dispersed, and a smile stretched across my cheeks.

Me - Yeah. Wanna see?

Sandra - Are you kidding? Tongue out emoji.

I giggled and turned to set my phone on a stand, setting it to take a picture. I stepped in front of it and posed. I took two more, and as I was setting it for the last one I caught my reflection in my mirror. I was smiling, and for the briefest moment I saw that innocent kid again, full of life and hope.

I took more pictures, eventually sending her a string of them, front, side, even one from the back while looking over my shoulder with my best 'come hither' look. Somehow it was easy. I mean, I knew that I didn't look great, not by the world's standards, anyway, but for just a moment it didn't matter. Sandy was different.

Sandy - Wow, Melanie, you look gorgeous.

Me - Thanks. Bashful emoji.

Sandy - God I wish I could dance with you tonight.

Me - Me too.

I closed my eyes and imagined dancing with Sandy, her strong arms around me as my head rested on her shoulder.

For a minivan, my Chrysler Pacifica was really nice, but the fact remains - luxury automakers are not in the business of making minivans. When I pulled up to the valet line for the party I was behind a Mercedes-Benz and what I think was a Maserati. As I made it to the front of the line I watched the red-vested kid's face fall when he saw what he was going to have to go park, but he managed to be polite as he took my keys and I headed up the marble steps into the ballroom.

The music was already playing, but there wasn't anyone dancing yet, that wouldn't start until after dinner. My brother and his wife were standing just inside the doors, greeting people as they entered.

John looked immaculate, like he always does, perfect hair, the same shade as mine with just a touch of a widow's peak, and a tailored tuxedo with a red handkerchief in his pocket. That was my mother's influence, just a touch of color to draw attention.

His face never wavered, but somehow I could feel his face slip from the pleasant politician to haughty condescension. "Melanie. It's good to see you."

"John, you're looking well."

He smirked and shrugged. "Been hitting the gym, feeling strong." He patted his flat stomach as his eye flicked over my body. "How about you?"

"Running around after three, well, almost three, teenagers."

"Ah, of course." He gave me a little half smile. "I know exactly what you mean."

I managed not to laugh. He and my sister-in-law had two children, mostly raised by nannies. They were the prototypical rich, spoiled brats. The most that could be said for them was that they knew enough not to get into too much trouble and seriously embarrass the family, so far at least.

"I'm glad you could come, Melanie." He patted me on the shoulder and gave me his most winning fake smile for the briefest moment before turning aside. "Senator Davis! I'm so glad you could come!"

I shook my head and stepped to my left where my sister-in-law Henrietta was standing in an exquisite dress, fading from black at the bodice to silver to white at the hem. She gave me a wide smile, followed by one of those fake air kisses, before stepping away like I didn't exist.

I stood there for a moment, feeling the rejection down to my bones. I don't know what I was expecting. I mean, I didn't have any money to donate to my brother's campaign. My brother and I had never exactly been close, but the cordial relationship we'd maintained had evaporated when I'd gotten divorced.

I moved away and into the din. I recognized quite a few faces, more than recognized me, at least. It was the usual crowd, prominent businessmen and women, wealthy widows, local politicians, even the Lieutenant Governor, who was a friend of my dad's.

I found my parents up near the head tables, talking in a small group consisting of two state senators and their wives. My mother was pushing seventy, but was still as glamorous as ever, her light brown hair not showing a hint of gray over her flowing green gown. She was wearing that easy smile she'd perfected over her lifetime, feigning interest in the story Senator Ward was telling.

My father was standing next to her, looking sharp in his tux, having let himself fade to silver naturally years ago. Of course, gray on a man looks distinguished, on women it just makes them look old. According to my mother at least.

I approached the group, watching my mother's pleasant expression slip just slightly when she saw me. To be more accurate, her smile widened, becoming just a little more fake.

"Melanie. You look nice." Mother managed to add just a touch of surprise in her voice. "They took care of you at the Salon? Who worked on you?"

"Shae. She was nice."

"Oh. Well," she touched my hair, inspecting it, "at least there aren't any braids or beads."

Embarrassment flashed across my father's face at my mother's racist comment, while their companions just laughed.

One of the women, Mrs. Ward, if I remember correctly, answered her. "I know exactly what you mean. You just cannot be too careful." I glanced at her very elegant hairdo, wondering exactly how much it had cost.

My father spoke up. "It's good to see you, Doodlebug." He gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek. "Jefferson, Aaron, you remember my daughter Melanie? Sweetheart, Senator Jefferson Ward, his wife Elizabeth, Representative Aaron Markle and Brenda." Dad gestured to each in turn and I did my best to smile at them.

Senator Ward snapped his fingers. "Melanie, I remember, I haven't seen you since your wedding, how long ago was that?"

"Almost twenty years."

"And how is, um," he turned his hand in a circle and chuckled, "I'm so bad with names."

I tried to keep my cheeks from flushing as my mother gave me a stern look, wordlessly commanding me to downplay my abject marital failure. "Bill Pierson. We're not together anymore."

Elizabeth's face morphed into a look of pity. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Thank you, but I did get three beautiful children out of it, so I don't mind."

"Really?"

"Yeah. My daughter's a senior at Lost Valley, captain of the varsity field hockey team. We're very proud of her."

"Yes, well, she'll be hanging up her stick soon, heading to college." There was a tone of finality in Mother's voice, the one that had been telling me since childhood that we were done with this subject.

Except that I wasn't. "Not necessarily. Her coach thinks she could play division one."

Anger flashed behind my mother's eyes, but I doubt anyone besides myself saw it. Elizabeth certainly didn't. "That's exciting! Any thoughts on where she wants to play?"

"Not yet. We'll see who's interested."

"Chip off the old block, eh, Dan?" Jefferson Ward cuffed my father on his shoulder. "You weren't so bad with the stick when we were kids."

"You played hockey?" Brenda cocked her head.

Dad laughed. "No, lacrosse."

The three men continued talking about their glory days while I listened politely, fading into the background of the conversation like I'd been taught. The way to a man's heart isn't through his stomach, after all. It's through his ego. Stroke that, and well, you get the idea.

I watched the women in our little group do just that, and do it expertly, and it made me sick. They simpered and flattered. The closest thing to their own interests they spoke about were the exploits of their various children.

Eventually a chime sounded through the ballroom, and the general murmur of voices subsided. A confident but deferential voice sounded over the PA system.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you'll find your way to your seats, dinner will be served shortly. Thank you."

Our little group broke up, and my mother moved to my side. "Melanie, we've talked about this."

"About Paige playing college hockey? She will if she wants, Mother. And I won't let you talk her out of it." My insides were shaking as my mother's icy gaze dug into my skull. I may not be able to stand up for myself, but she wasn't going to steal my daughter's soul like she had mine.

"We'll talk about this later, young lady." She moved away to our table, and sure enough, when I got there my place card was right next to hers. I sat down, pointedly ignored by my mother. A woman I didn't know took the seat on my right, who turned out to be the lieutenant governor's wife. She was polite, but not really interested in conversation, and I ate my sea bass and asparagus in silence.

By the time dessert came around I was feeling my depression closing in, so I declined any. The last thing I needed were more sharp comments from my mother or haughty looks from my brother or sister-in-law. Next came the speeches. The first was from one of John's professors from Duke, who extolled my brother's dedication and brilliance while at school.

Next was from U.S. Representative Edward Collinsworth, whose seat my brother was aiming to fill after the next election. John had clerked for him during school, and Rep. Collinsworth spent a solid twenty minutes explaining that he was enthusiastically behind my brother's campaign. "I remember a young, slightly arrogant, in the best sense, of course, man who was as bright as any I'd ever worked with. He was tireless, and always held to the courage of his convictions, even when those convictions didn't line up perfectly with mine. He was the only clerk I've ever had who would unabashedly argue policy with me. He even changed my mind once or twice, although all y'all are going to take that to your graves." The assembly chuckled. The Representative continued in typical politician fashion, always smiling, and more than a little in love with the sound of his own voice.

Eventually my father took the stage. "I've been tasked with introducing our guest of honor. I've been asked, many times, why I didn't follow in my father's footsteps and go into politics? Well, the obvious answer is parties like these, which I detest." Dad tugged on the collar of his tux as the crowd tittered. "But the real reason is that talent can skip a generation. I would have been a terrible politician. But my boy," Dad motioned toward John, "he has inherited all of his grandfather's flair, along with his mother's common sense. And so it is with tremendous pride that I introduce our next U.S. Representative, John Sullivan!"

Applause erupted from the assembly and a spotlight lit up my brother's handsome face as he smiled and stood. He walked toward the stage, embracing my father, who stepped away from the microphone.

John waved to the crowd, thanking them repeatedly before finally getting them to quiet down. I clapped along with everyone. My mother smiled in my direction, letting me know my own grin wasn't wide enough.

"Thank you, thank you all." My brother blushed and grinned, motioning for the crowd to be quiet "First, let me thank Representative Collinsworth for his decades of public service to the people of North Carolina. He's been a friend and a mentor, and I hope he enjoys his retirement and finally gets in those extra rounds of golf he's always talking about. Heaven knows he needs the practice." Everyone laughed, and the retiring politician wagged his finger playfully at my brother.

"Seriously, though. Edward Collinsworth has been a mentor, a teacher, and friend for decades, and it is so humbling that he would endorse me to replace him. Or rather, to step into his office, as no one could ever replace him." He stopped and began to applaud, and the assembly joined in enthusiastically until the aging congressman stood and waved.

When everyone quieted, he continued. "And I have to thank my family, My father, who taught me fiscal responsibility, and my mother, who taught me how to survive the piranha tank of both high school and politics, which are remarkably similar." John's eyes went from dad to mom as he spoke. His gaze passed over me, lingering for just a second before moving away to his wife. "And to my beautiful wife, Henrietta..."