Sing For Me

Chapter Eighteen: Or Is This Just Fantasy?

The third box contained a strapless bra and seamless panties.

After an afternoon of nail-biting and nausea, I finally settle my nerves by taking a long, hot shower. But afterwards, when I put the bra and panties on, all I can think about is how weird it is that Red knows my exact cup size.

There was never any question that the dress and shoes were my size, either.

I hear a tentative-yet-excited tap-tap-tap on my door.

"Meg? Meggiekins? Do you need any help with your dress?"

I swallow the lump in my throat. "Um, yeah. please."

At least having Abbey around distracts me a little bit from the hundreds of swirling thoughts in my head. Ones like:

Is Red telling the truth? Is Tim dreading this date just as much as I am? Am I really just some kind of paparazzi bait to him, or was there actually some truth in those brief moments I caught something more in his eyes?

Abbey's breath catches as she unzips the garment bag laying on my bed. Abbey had taken the dress away to study the stitchwork and had practically drooled over the thing all afternoon. Every now and then I'd hear a little squeak of happiness, or an ethereal sigh coming from her room, followed by a muttered beautiful or exquisite or once, even practically made by the angels themselves.

In complete juxtaposition to Abbey, any time I've unfortunately graced the presence of what I'll be wearing tonight my stomach feels sick.

The dress has corset-style, close-knit buttons up the back, and is completely impossible to get into on my own. For someone who won't be caught dead buying something that isn't machine-washable, it seems completely impractical, but Abbey patiently undoes every button, gets me to step into the dress, and then pulls it up to my waist, working on the buttons one at a time.

Of course, she's coaxed me into a position in front of my full-length mirror, which means I have to look at myself. And as she does up the buttons, the look of absolute awe and pleasure on Abbey's face makes me feel kind of... uncomfortable. dirty, and undeserving. and just...

I guess the closest I can get to explaining this feeling is kind of like a turd wrapped up in gold leaf wrapping paper.

So, I close my eyes, not even wanting to look at myself. Or her. Just trying to hide away from the moment for as long as I possibly can.

The dress is so tight that as Abbey works the buttons up past my diaphragm I find it harder to breathe. When she's finished, I open my eyes, and find Abbey's shining with unshed tears.

"It's just... " she starts, shaking her head in awe. "Perfect." she concludes.

And as I step into the heels to get at least somewhat accustomed to wearing them, I can't help but think she might have a point.

Except, I look so different from my usual self it's hard to know how to act, what to do.

Abbey grins at me. "You know, I do hope you have fun tonight - despite that weird look on your face." she says.

She rubs her hands down both my arms. "You deserve this, Meg. You deserve to feel happiness. Lean into it, okay?"

And with that, she squeezes my hands and walks out of my door - before I even have a chance to collect myself, or rebut her, or even roll my eyes.

* * *

It's Trix who sees the unmarked van sidling up to the curb outside our apartment at exactly 6pm. I'm sitting on our third-hand Craigslist couch in the most expensive thing I've ever owned, let alone worn, and Abbey is jumping around in circles in true Abbey fashion.