Page 52 of Final Installment
Her cell phone began to vibrate, and she immediately answered it.“Yes?I’m here.I—what?Now?”She bit her lip and nervously glanced my way.“Okay.Give me, like, five minutes to get dressed.I will.Okay.I will.”
“Dafina?Who was that?”Between the warehouse discovery I’d made and this, I wasn’t sure I could take much more of this anxiety-inducing suspense.
“Please don’t ask me questions, Elona.”She tossed aside her phone and rushed to the closet where she grabbed a simple sundress.“It’s better if you don’t know.”
“Dafina.”
“No, Elona!”She pulled on the dress and stuffed her feet into simple flats.“I mean it.Don’t ask again.Don’t follow me.Just—stay here and wait.”
“For what?”
“For the rehearsal dinner.”
“You’re coming back?”
“Of course.”She shot me a strange look.“Skender is here.In Tirana.We’re this close to getting our brother back.I’m not going to risk that.Not for anything.”She snatched up her phone and purse.“If anyone asks—.”
“I didn’t see anything.”
“Exactly.”She rushed out of the room, and I sat there, dumbfounded and anxious.
What the hell is going on?
And what the hell was I going to tell my mother if she returned before Dafina?
Not looking forward to that conversation, I returned to the entryway and gathered my luggage.I tried two doors down the main hallway before I found the room that had been arranged for me.My gaze landed on the dress rack in the corner.
“Oh, no.”Horrified, I dropped my luggage and ran to inspect the nightmare outfits I had been ordered to wear.These were very expensive pieces, each one beautifully designed and stitched with exquisite skill.The colors were gorgeous and happy and bright, but they were exactly the shades I would never buy or wear.They would draw too much attention, the very last thing I wanted.
The dress with a tag for tonight had me on the verge of hyperventilating.It was beautiful.Sexy.The bold fuchsia color reminded me of bougainvillea.The gauzy, pleated fabric would hug every lump and bump.There wasn’t a pair of shape wear strong enough to smooth out what I was trying to hide.The halter top was even worse.I hated showing my arms and wide shoulders.
Feeling sick, I flicked the hanger aside and gawked at the gown that had been arranged for the wedding.It had one shoulder and a fitted bust with a jeweled cutout right at the waist.The pink lilac floral print was pretty.That much I would allow, but the thought of wearing a dress that tight fitting with a cutout and a slit that went mid-thigh?I wanted to die.
The brunch dress wasn’t any better.Another halter top, this one in a wild pink and orange abstract print with pops of aqua and mint.It was at least loose and flowy so I wouldn’t feel like every single roll was on display.
“Maybe they won’t fit.”It was the only chance I had to escape the embarrassment of wearing these dresses.I wasn’t easy to shop for, not at my weight and my height.There was no way these would fit me.
But as I slipped into the rehearsal dinner dress with trembling hands, my stomach fell.It fitperfectly.
It was as if it had been made for me.There was no stretching or bunching of fabric around my breasts or hips.The hem was the correct length.Everything was just right.
How?What kind of miracle worker was Drita?
And why do I look so fucking good?
It was sickening that a woman I didn’t even know had picked a dress that made me look likethis.
I looked...hot?
The front door of the apartment opened and slammed shut.Startled by the sound, I whirled around at my mother’s angry voice.I wanted to be anywhere but here in this apartment, alone with her.
“Dafina!Elona!”
“Coming!”I shouted back, hoping I could get out of this dress and back into my regular clothes before she came looking for me.
Luck was not on my side.Her high heels clacked against the floor, and she suddenly appeared in the doorway.Her lip curled, and she furrowed her brow at me.“Is that what she picked for you?Is she blind?Look at your shoulders!”She made a disgusted face.“Look at your stomach!The rolls!”
And there it was.The cutting, mean, nasty remarks that sounded exactly like the critical voice in my head.The voice that told me I was too fat to wear something like this.
