Exile

The Invitation

Once again, my mother takes control of my wardrobe.

I wonder where on earth she gets all these clothes? I don't think I left any clothes when I moved away. What the hell?

She puts me in an ivory maxi dress made of really nice vintage silk with a black trim on the neckline. She almost put me in this frilly pink confection but I had to remind her that I absolutely hate short skirts. I'm not particularly fond of my legs. Even worse, she tried to put me in these black heels that make me feel like a giant. I had to remind her about Alex's height. At a respectable five-foot-nine, it's really easy for me to tower over him in heels and platforms, especially since I'm only three inches shorter. So, as a rule, I stick to flats and kitten heels.

She let me wear these simple black flip-flops, but she wasn't happy about it. Whatever. I don't see the need for this ceremony.

"Mom, is this really necessary?" I ask her.

"Yes!" she exclaims, pulling back my hair in a ponytail. She seems shocked that I could even ask that question. "You're asking this man to go to a special even with you. You can go out looking any old way. You've got to dress the part, tempt the taste buds, make the mouth water."

"I thought I was asking him to escort me to the dance. You're making it sound like I'm inviting him over for dinner."

"You might want to after all is said and done. You don't know what's going to happen."

"Whatever you say, mom." She smoothes out my clothes a few times before giving her nod of approval. "You know, you should ask Noelle if she can find you a job as a stylist. It seems to be your thing."

"Really, you think so?" She's thrilled with my suggestion. I wasn't being serious, though. "I just throw things that I think look good together. It's no big deal. Though I admit, it would be nice to get paid for that type of work! It'd be lovely."

My mom chuckles happily, quite pleased with herself. I really wasn't being serious – I'm very annoyed with her – but I dare not disrupt her elation.

"Anyway, I'm should get going now," I tell her. "I'm sure he's home now."

"Okay!" she waves me off. "Now remember, be charming and girly! You are asking him out on a date after all."

"No, I'm not. I'm just asking him to keep me company so dirty old men won't try and hit on me. You're the one who thinks it's a date."

"Right. You keep telling yourself that."

I will, thank you very much.

…

I pull into a parking spot a few houses down from his, kill the engine, put on my black blazer, and sit in silence.

I can't believe I'm going to do this.

I can't turn back now. If my mom were to find out that I didn't deliver this invitation, it wouldn't be pretty. I'm committed now, but damn it, I'm terrified.

I've got so much stuff on my mind right now, like you wouldn't believe.

I'm trying not to think of my sister's proposal. If I start thinking about it, I'll feel even more pressure, and if I feel more pressure, I'm going to lose it. Still, I can't help but link one high-pressure situation to the other. If I were to take my sister's offer, I'd end up being around Alex again. If I didn't it, I'll end up going back to Vancouver, longing for him.

If I stayed, there's a good chance I could ease my suffer, my longing…

But I have a good job in Vancouver…