Page 78 of Why Not Now?

“I’m going to go thank her for not coming,” I say. “Then we can leave.”

The two women laugh at me, each linking an arm with one of mine, dragging me out the door.

“Come on,” Adalie says. “This is going to be fun.”

“That’s one word you could use.”

There’s a heated discussion regarding which mall we should go to, a discussion I completely stay out of. In the end, the experts decide on the bigger mall which is just outside Vancouver. I decide I’d rather drive than take transit so we don’t have to come all the way back here for my car, and we all pile in, though parking is going to be a fucking nightmare.

“What, exactly, do you need?” Lis asks.

“I was thinking a dress. She’s been upset she doesn’t have as many nice clothes as she used to. Maybe some shoes, too. Women like their shoes to match their dress, right?”

“True,” Lis says, drawing out the word. “But women often have very particular, individual styles. You know Ava enough to know what hers is?”

“Yes.” I may not be confident about choosing a dress on my own, but I am certainly confident enough to know if she’s going to like something or not.

We arrive at the mall, and I don’t bother trying to search for a close spot, driving to the furthest point in the parking lot where even here the pickings are slim. But I find one after only a few minutes, and we walk back to the mall. Lis and Adalie ask where we should start looking.

I hunch my shoulders, shoving my hands in my pockets, my hat pulled low over my eyes, like I’m trying to hide. I kind of am. I hate shopping at malls this close to Christmas.

“That’s why I brought you guys. I’ve never bought a dress before. I don’t know which stores to shop at. Where would you guys go to find a dress to go to the ballet?”

They grin at each other and drag me into a store, leading me to the women’s wear section.

“So what’s her favourite colour?” Lis asks, running her fingers along the dresses.

“Green,” I say without hesitation.

“Oh perfect,” Adalie says. “We can find something that’s her favourite colour and has a Christmas vibe to it. Long or short?” Adalie asks Lis. I’m glad she doesn’t ask me, because I have no clue.

“Probably not floor-length,” Lis answers. “If it were me, I’d want to get more than just one use out of it.” They chat and pull dresses off the racks, talking about sweetheart versus halter necklines.

“What’s a sweetheart neckline?” I ask, thinking about what I like to call her.

Adalie pulls a dress and holds it up. It’s a mint green, floor-length dress, made of some kind of shimmery fabric.

“Like this. See how it kind of looks like a heart?” She trails her fingers over the neckline to prove her point.

I nod. “I like that. But not that dress. Do the sweetheart ones come with straps?” I imagine Ava wearing a dress like that and needing to pull it up all night long.

Before she can answer, Lis gasps. “Adalie, look!”

“Is that what I think it is?” Adalie asks, moving closer. They pull a dress off the rack.

I can’t see it well, since they’re blocking it from view, but I hear the excitement in their voices.

“This is the one,” Adalie says with a decisive nod. They turn and hold it up.

I admit, it’s pretty. It’s a very dark green, almost black, shorter than the mint green one, probably falling to mid-calf instead of the floor. It has the sweetheart neckline with ribbon straps that tie at the shoulder. The skirt flairs out at the waist in a bell shape.

“With her frame and colouring, it’ll be stunning on her,” Lis says. “Pair it with a pretty necklace and earrings, put her hair up.” She nods. “Perfect.”

“It’s really nice,” I say, “and I like it. It’s definitely her style. But what’s so exciting about it?”

The women share a look, grinning.

Then Lis returns her gaze to me. “It has pockets.”

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