To Me She Was Pretty

Secrets, Lies and Other Unpleasant Things Part 5

Clare had been waiting for her mother Susan at the bottom of the wooden porch-step, her worn vintage backpack at her side, since half past seven, that cool Monday morning. It wasn't unusual for Grace to be running a little behind, because that was just the kind of personality she had. Although, she was very caring, and kind, with the purest intentions, she was also quite predictably and characteristically tardy----to everything. To her, it was a way of life, and to everyone else----it was just typical Grace.

The woman, was even once late to her own wedding, a chapel full of her close family, friends and of course Dan---her clammy, mortified groom. Grace, somehow convinced her social-phobic best friend Karen, to stall for as long as she could, via text. Her childhood partner-in-crime, began belting out all sorts of pitchy, undesirable tones for nearly thirty minutes straight. Grace hopped out of the black limo, and rushed to the dinning room. She slipped into her hot, poofy dress, and on her narrow, nude heels. The two entrance doors leading into the sanctuary, sprang loudly open.

The bride stood a bit frazzled and gasping. "I'm here----I made it!!!! Sorry..." Grace cheered, smiling stiffly without raising her dewy, and blushed cheeks. Karen dropped the microphone. It pierced the congregation's ears, as Grace headed down the isle much too fast. She was incredibly, uncoordinated with the live band, who her confused father and mother, had paid the big bucks to play the Wedding March. "Took the scenic root----got a little lost along the way." Grace's soon to be husband, gave her a swift nudge with his elbow as he whispered, "A little---- really?" The woman shot the groom a wink, before the Reverend sighed irritably, "The people, I end up working with now days, " he murmured under his breath to God, before continuing on with the ceremony.

****

A bit stiff, and losing the feeling of her glute's, Clare stood to her feet, and decided to check the mail, while she waited. There was nothing inside the white, wooden box like she had predicted, but at least, she got the chance to stretch her legs. The girl glanced around the neighborhood. Most of the community, were either still asleep in soft, comfy beds, or inside their warm, cookie-cutter kitchens having breakfast. Clare lifted her gaze up to Sam's room, as the butterflies, and intimate memories, all came rushing back at once. She was lost completely in a daydream.

****

It didn't take Georgina half as long, as it took Clare's mother Grace, to put her best face on every morning... But, at least----unlike Clare, Sam didn't have to wait. Georgina was already fancily dressed in dark, cloth, knee-high boots. She wore an olive-knitted, over-sized Banana Republic sweater, that hung off one of her thin, tanned shoulders. Thick, embroidered, black tights warmed her long, toned legs. Georgina played with the pearls, dangling from around her modelesque, swam-like neck. She sipped from her FIJI water, at the speckled granite bar in the kitchen, as Sam came trotting in down the stairs. "I'm headed out to the truck. I'm going to get the heater going?" Georgina didn't bat a single lash or acknowledge her brother's presence.

Within a couple of minutes, Sam honked his horn and Georgina stepped out, her large, leather Michael Kors bag in hand. She pulled herself up and into her brother's Toyota 4-Runner, and slammed the old, creaking door. "I swear----if anyone sees me in this decrepit dinosaur, I'm not calming you as family anymore. This thing needs to hurry up and die already, so dad can buy us a new one; or just me one..." Georgina caught a glimpse of the girl next door, staring at them both in her yard. "Hurry up, let's go... Mother Teresa over there, is totally obsessed with me. She hasn't pilled her eyes away since I got in." Sam shook his head and inched to the curb, his foot tapping the squealing breaks. He looked both ways before pulling out in the street. For a moment, the boy locked eyes with Clare as he passed. She watched the truck vanish around a corner. Clare shifted her gaze, at the sound of her mother slamming and securing the front door.