HORRIBLE GOSSIP
MAVEN STARED UP at the bad lighting in the dressing room. She gracelessly shimmied into the first dress she had picked out.
“How’s it look, Maves?” Her mother called from the other side of the door.
Maven rolled her eyes. She swatted her bangs away, staring at herself in the mirror. It was too long—long was never her thing.
The Hop wasn’t formal. It was a laid back dance where girls found cute summer dresses to wear and boys wore a nice pair of slacks and a dress shirt. Some wore ties, others kept it simple.
She gave herself a useless smirk and unlatched the door so her mother could invade her space.
“I don’t really think it’s your color.” Her mom bit her thumbnail as she studied her in the long flowing number. “What about the pink one?”
Maven looked over at Maggie. There she sat in a chair, arms crossed, ear buds in, ignoring the whole excursion. “I don’t like pink remember?”
Her mother sighed, shaking her head in exasperation that Maven wanted to dispute the shade. Ever since she could remember, Maven refused to wear anything pink. She said it was too girly and made her look too goodie goodie. She realized it was a lost cause and yanked the hot pink dress out of the dressing room.
Maven shut the door, slipping out of the tawdry gown. She let it fall to her feet just as her phone vibrated. She gave herself a brief glance in the mirror before digging her phone from the pocket of her shorts.
It was a text from Henri.
Thinking of you. She smiled.
I am trapped at the mall with my mother and Maggie trying to find a dress for the Hop. Torture!
She set the phone on the tiny shelf by the mirror and studied herself. Fingering the strap of her lacy bra, she drifted to the night she and Henri sat by the water talking for hours. The sun made it back before she could even pull herself away from Henri and the water.
She was forever thinking about his kisses. The way his lips made her entire body shiver with something she had never felt before. Her heart never slowed when he touched her. And the moment at the water when Henri finally let his lips venture to her neck and further down to her collarbone had her ready to go nuts. She would have allowed him to go further, but he wasn’t like most guys, he would never disrespect her. But that didn’t take away from the ache that filled her mind every time he kissed her. She wondered if Henri felt that way about her or if she was just out of control.
As they got closer to her house that night Henri grew more and more quiet. She started to worry he was upset with her, because he was never so tranquil. That was when it happened. When he asked her to the Hop, the happiness she felt was beyond words. It seemed like a silly thing to get so excited over, but she was.
Her phone chirped alerting her to another text.
I can’t believe it’s taking so long you look beautiful in anything.
She grinned, plucking the sunny yellow dress off its hanger. But before she could put it on she scrunched her nose at the broken strap. “Guess this one wasn’t meant to be.”
Her mother tapped on the door. “I think I found it.”
Maven cracked the door, peering out. In her mother’s grasp was the most amazing thing she ever seen. She immediately grabbed for it, her mother smiled from ear to ear, glad she finally satisfied her daughter.
Maven quickly slipped into the strapless turquoise dress her smile never leaving her face. It was right out of a fairy tale. Three different lengths of sheer turquoise fabric made the skirt. It even had a shiny satin belt that formed into a graceful bow around the waist. She opened the door watching her mother’s eyes light up with approval. They hi-fived, giggling like two teenage girls heading to prom. Maggie groaned, sinking farther down in her seat trying to disappear.
“You look beautiful. That’s definitely the one.” Her mother gave her arm a squeeze and let her slip back into the dressing room to undress.
Shopping wasn’t over with. After forcing Maggie to pick a dress—which ended up being black with a dreadful looking tutu style skirt that she said she was wearing with combat boots or Converse—they headed to the woman’s section so their mother could find something appropriate for the night.
It wasn’t often her mother dressed up. Both her parents worked a lot of hours—even in the summer.
“I’m going over to the food court,” Maggie announced, taking off before anyone could say otherwise.
Maven circled the racks of dresses, watching her mother work her way from one rack to the next. She was fussy yet uncomplicated.
“What do you think Henri will wear?” Her mother asked, her eyes glued to a simple white sundress.
“I’m not sure.” She imagined Henri in a fancy tie.
“He’s a handsome guy.” Her mother told her. “He doesn’t look like all these guys running around with the beaver haircut.”
Maven laughed at her mother’s poor pop culture knowledge. “It’s not beaver.” She shook her head, unable to correct her because she was laughing so hard.
“Well, I just mean he has the hair of a refined actor from my time.” She smiled.
Maven scrunched her nose. “He gets cuter every time he speaks.”
Her mother’s eyes widened. “That’s not something I ever thought my teenage daughter would say. Those are the words of a woman in love.”
Maven’s cheeks grew warm. She looked away. “There is no such thing as love, Mother.”
Her mother smirked. “I beg to differ. Your father and I fell into it a very long time ago. And I have been falling ever since.”
Maven loved hearing about her mother’s undying love for her father. But it wasn’t normal. Most people fell in and out of love their whole life. Her parents were a very rare thing.
“Henri is never going to love me.” She shook her head at the thought of it. “He has much bigger things to deal with than falling in love.”
This disappointed her mother. It was horrible that her daughter would think such a thing. Love wasn’t something you decided. It was thrust upon you at the most inopportune times in your life. You didn’t choose when or who to love, love chose you.
Maven sighed. She hated to be so open about Henri’s health. It made it more real. It was illogical, but she thought if she ignored it, that he would always be there. But other times it was hard to make it through a day knowing. She felt like she was going to burst if she didn’t talk about it. “I don’t think Henri will ever admit he cares about me because he doesn’t want to hurt me. He’s not selfish.”
Her mother returned the white dress to the sales rack and wrapped her arm around her. “You don’t know that. I think Henri thinks a lot about you, whether he says so or not. It’s written all over him every time he looks at you.” She smoothed her hair. “It’s too early to give up hope.”
Maven stepped out of line to check her phone. Another text from Henri.
You me and a pizza?
Sounds nice
Hurry before Flynn eats it all, got your favorite kind, pineapple.