Fully English

CHAPTER 39

It is a day before the infamous dinner and I am strolling the mall for an outfit. According to George, tomorrow's meal was fancy and so I was expected to look the part: already I had had my hair styled with a straight, 14inch black weave so all that was left was a getup. Funnily enough, since I am friendless and void of female opinion, Otis has decided to accompany me as I trawl from shop to shop to find this Godforsaken outfit. Already we have scoured the top floor of all its clothing stores but I am yet to find an outfit I adore – most of them are either too revealing or not suited to the theme of a dinner. The impression I wanted to give George's parents was one of confidence but not too bold but nothing on the rack seemed to give that aura.

Next is the middle floor with its more conservative offerings and department stores. The target audience in these shops are slightly older so I know I will find something more appropriate than what I saw upstairs.

Otis on my tail, I walk to a rack of sleeved dresses and finger through them. All have sweetheart necklines, fall below the knee and are emblazoned with floral print. Quickly I locate my size and hold it in front of my body in a flourish.

"What do you think?"

Otis scrunches up his lips and shakes his head. "That ain't it y'all."

I roll my eyes. "Why?"

"You're trying to seduce him not bore him."

I put the dress down with a clank. "I'm trying to impress his parents."

"Yeah so we need to find a balance."

He detaches his eyes from me and scours the shop floor, catches eyes with an attendant standing near the till. He marches over to her and by the time I make it to the both of them, he has my wrist in his hand and is dragging me to another floor.

We end up back on the top floor with its seductive dresses and low necklines but Otis purposefully continues to a back corner that is almost hidden from view. We stand at the invisible fourth wall and look at the tight, elegant numbers which hang from their metal racks: vivid greens, blues, reds and oranges scream at me with their generous necklines and dangerous slits.

"Otis, I'm not going to the club," I exclaim.

He ignores me and reaches for a dress I did not spy on first glance: it is a brilliant blue Bardot style, satin material and fully sleeved. The hem reaches knee length and I can see that though it is fitting, the material is breathable and flattering. Admittedly I love it.

"You like it?" Otis seems impressed with his handiwork and turns it so I can see the back.

"It's nice," I downplay my emotions.

"Try it on," he thrusts it to me.

"What?"

He points to the fitting room and pushes me lightly in its direction. I walk over to the sales assistant who directed Otis earlier and she gives me a huge plastic chip with the number '1' on it. I walk into the changing room slowly and begin removing my clothes, replacing them with this dress. I feel the material glide over each contour as I pull it up to my shoulders and admire it all from all angles.

Rotating like a kebab, I am checking out my every feature when a voices comes through the curtain.

"You decent?"

"Uh," I stumble. Still in the dress I turn around to the drawn curtain. "Yeah."

"I'm coming in."

A swish sounds and Otis enters before drawing the curtain closed behind him. For a few moments he is quiet and I watch through the mirror as he sits down and begins playing with his phone.