10 Steps to Being a Lady

A Lady Never Speaks Too Quickly

The day of my mother’s charity event, she woke me up at seven in the morning. When I awoke, she was already dressed with her hair and makeup perfect. Sometimes I wondered how she did it all. That day reminded me of the day after my dad left.

He left at night. I think he thought it would be easier, because in the light of day he wouldn’t have been able to look his wife and daughter in the eye and leave. He probably figured I was asleep when it happened, that I woke up to find him gone. Instead, I witnessed it all. I sat at the top of the steps and watched him and my mom fight. She had gotten home late and found him with his suitcases packed.

She asked him where he was going and he didn’t reply. I remembered her grasping for his suitcases, begging him not to go. She used my own name a lot in her argument. In the end, he ended up driving away and leaving my mom sobbing on the floor of our front hall. After an hour, she picked herself up and went to bed. When she passed me on the stairs, we locked eyes. She looked like she wanted to say something, but instead she remained silent and passed by me.

The next morning I went downstairs expecting my mom to be a mess. Instead, she was dressed in a freshly ironed dress and heels. She completely organized an entire event that day. We both knew there was an elephant in the room, my dad and her husband had left us and wasn’t coming back. But we never talked about it.

Since then, every charity event reminded me of that day. This day in particular, because the dress she wore resembled the one she had slid on the morning after my dad left. It was like déjà vu.

“Get dressed and meet me downstairs in a half an hour. I expect you to help out today.”

The coral dress I put on was sure to please both my mom and her friends, I knew because my mom had bought it. I added a headband and some nude heels, cringing as I saw my prissy reflection. All I wanted to do was pull on some jean shorts and I wished I had a mom who would accept that.

I met my mom in the driveway and found her talking to someone on the phone. She snapped at me until we locked eyes and then she pointed her finger towards the car. I sighed and slid into her BMW. It took her a few minutes to get off the phone, but once she did we drove in silence to the country club.

It was only eight when we got there, but the place was already being decorated for the event. I immediately found Riley and we ran off to the golf courses to hide from our mothers. We borrowed a golf cart and slowly drove around the club.

To my delight, Riley looked just as ridiculous as I did. She wore a light blue dress with a high neckline and a full skirt. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun that looked extremely uncomfortable. She also looked just as miserable as I did. She kept fidgeting with her dress and tugging at the bottom.

“Char, our mothers suck,” she muttered.

“Trust me, I know.”

Riley was silent, but then began to smile and gripped my arm as I tried to drive our golf cart. Her sudden pounce caused me to jerk the steering wheel to the right and almost take out a few old men. “Riley!” I screeched, apologizing loudly to the guys I almost ran over.