Chapter 22
T
he next day, I sat in Madison's car cruising the parking lot. There were more than sixty shopping days until Christmas, yet every spot was occupied. Of course, this wasn't an ordinary shopping complex with a modest parking lot, two anchor stores, and a single aisle of stores connecting them. No, this was King of Prussia, a mall known for being one of the largest in the country (though it didn't have an amusement park or anything). With eight department stores and several hundred boutiques, it was somewhat of a local shopping Mecca, which Madison prayed to often.
“All right, I'm about ready to just give up, park across the street and walk it,” Madison huffed, as she spun down another packed lane of cars.
“Why don't you head over toward Bloomingdale's. There's usually more parking on that side of the mall,” Emily suggested.
“But then I'll get lost getting out of here. I only know how to exit from Macy's. The last time I tried to go a different way I ended up halfway to the Poconos before I figured it out.”
“I can get you home,” Emily insisted.
“You don't even have a driver's permit.”
“Is it my fault that my birthday's not 'til May?”
“Okay, young buck. Wait 'til everyone starts turning twenty-one; then it'll really suck to have the last birthday.”
“Yeah, well wait 'til everyone turns thirty, then I'll be the envy of all of you.”
“Wait! Right there! There's a spot!” I hollered, pointing toward a large, middle-aged woman loading an armful of bags into her trunk.
“Thank God!” Madison sighed, turning on her blinker.
A large SUV with a blond female driver pulled up from the opposite direction also attempting to claim the spot.
“I will seriously kick some ass... .” Madison muttered, flashing her high beams at the twenty-something driver until she pulled away. “Yeah, you better run.”
A few minutes later, Madison parked the car, and we all jumped out and headed toward Neiman Marcus. My mother had handed me my father's credit card before I left and whispered something about how having the party at home was saving them loads of cash, so I could feel free to spend away on the dress. She would have jumped at the chance to be included, but something about having my mom in the dressing room with me was beyond humiliating. I still hadn't forgotten my eighth grade graduation fiascoâshe had told the saleswoman helping me that I was difficult to shop for because of my “tiny little nibblers.” Considering two years had passed and my boobs still hadn't sprouted past the training bra stage, I could only imagine how my mom would describe them this time around.
We hopped on the escalator to the second level. The marble floor shined. A pianist played live music on the baby grand. Madison knew the layout of the mall and every shop in it better than most war generals knew their battle plans. She was on a mission, and it would be accomplished by dinnertime.
“Okay, first thing we need to consider is length,” Madison stated as she strolled confidently toward a rack of gowns. “Do we want short or long?”
“Short, definitely,” I stated.
“Dress or skirt?”
“I don't care.”
“Then definitely a dress.”
I scanned the store. It had only been thirty seconds, and I was already positive I wouldn't find anything I liked. Unlike Madison, I was not born with the shopping gene. I hated trying on clothes, taking my shoes on and off, pulling my jeans up and down, creating a scientifically certified electrical experiment with the static in my hair. But thanks to Madison's last-minute check, I was at least more prepared for the ordeal.
“All right, here's the deal. Wear slip-on high-heeled shoes with no socks, so we can get an accurate take on the length and style. Wear a button-down shirt to avoid snagging your hair. And no jewelry. We need a blank slate,” she had stated earlier.
Lilly immediately separated from the pack to peruse a collection of colorful dresses on the other side of the department. Emily attacked the opposite sides of racks Madison was scanning, and I watched.
“Do you have a preferred neckline?” Madison asked as she fondled a navy halter swinging from its hanger.
“Ideally something that doesn't draw too much attention to my lack of feminine attributes.”
“I wouldn't worry too much about that. Look at Debra Messing. She's one of the best dressed women on the red carpet and she's got your same âtiny little nibblers.'” Madison chuckled.
“Must you remind me?” I rolled my eyes.
“You can always wear a water bra,” Emily stated.
“Yeah, and I can just see a fork accidentally perforating a boob during dinner. Could you imagine? I would forever be known as âNiagara Falls.' ”
“No, how 'bout âA River Runs Through It'?” Emily joked.
“Or âWaterworld,'” I added.
“Hey, don't knock 'em. Those bras work.” Madison lifted a white strapless dress.
“You do
not
own a water bra!”
“Uh, yeah. You should have seen my boobs at my party. We're talking Pamela Anderson prior to getting her implants removed.”
“I thought she had them put back in?” Emily asked.
“Oh, I don't know.” Madison shrugged.
“Anyway, I don't even think a water bra will help me. Seriously, the day I have cleavage will be the day Vince takes the oath of office.”
“How is he anyway?” Emily asked.
“You mean aside from the pictures of him funneling beer and swimming naked?” I raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, I'm not sure he's found his classes yet.”
“We should go visit him,” Emily suggested.
“Road trip in the Audi!” Madison cheered. “I love it!”
“Well, he did mention he's getting âinitiated' in a couple weeks. He actually asked me to come up.”
“Perfect!” Madison smiled, holding up a chocolate brown satin dress with an asymmetrical neckline and enough beading to make a âmother of the bride' proud.
“Please tell me you're not talking about the dress... .”
“Too much?” she asked, tilting her head as she stared at it. “Anyway, I was talking about the trip. Count us in.”
Just then, Lilly strolled over with an armful of colorful creations ranging from canary yellow to bright coral.
“All right, I found some. Let's hit the dressing room!”
“Do you have anything there that wasn't thrown up by the Care Bears?” Madison snapped, flicking her hand at my cousin.
“What? You haven't even seen them yet.”
“Actually, I can see them quite well. I think I'll need sunglasses to look any closer.”
“Since when is color out?”
“Since the eighties ended.”
“Mariana ...” Lilly whined with a frown.
“I am an equal opportunity shopper,” I stated. “I will try on anything that's brought to me. Once I'm naked I don't care how many dresses I zip.”
“Well, we don't have time to play games.” Madison curled her lips to the side.
“Sure we do. Plus, I have no idea what I'm looking for. I might as well try on everything.”
Lilly beamed as she grabbed my hand and dragged me toward the fitting room. I could already tell it was going to be a very long day.
Â
Exactly one hundred and four dresses later, after we visited four department stores and a half-dozen evening gown boutiques, I finally found a dress I liked. Only it wasn't an instant success with the team.
“But it's black,” Emily moaned as I posed in front of three full-length mirrors angled to show my bodily imperfections from every possible view.
“I thought you guys hated color,” Lilly snipped.
“I know, but black is so black. It's blah. It's the color of death and mourning.”
“No, it's the color of sophistication,” I rebutted as I turned to look at my butt.
The dress was loose fitting and fell straight to my knees with no defined waist. I called it a tube dress, while Madison called it a 1920s flapper-style cut. It had a modest V neck accented with ruffles to plump my petite chest and a matching hint of ruffle at the shoulder. Starting a few inches below my waist was a series of five ruffled pleats, ending just above my knee. It was subtle, it was modern, it was comfortable, and it wasn't over-the-top attention-grabbing. It was exactly me.
“But it's not very Puerto Rican,” Madison stated. “It doesn't fit your theme.”
“The designer's name is âRodriguez!' That's about as Hispanic as you can get,” Lilly stated, shaking her head. “I don't get you guys. We've tried on so many dresses my eyes are bleeding. This is the first one she's actually smiled in. Please, let's call it a day!”
“Lilly does have a point.” I twirled to showcase my swishing ruffles. “Plus, I can dance in this and not feel self-conscious.”
“As long as you like it,” Emily stated.
“You do look great,” Madison added.
And with that I put on my street clothes for the last time of the day, paid the nice cashier, and stumbled out of the mall. That should have been the end to an exhausting day, only it wasn't.
I foolishly invited my friends inside to show my mom the dress, hoping their opinions would influence my mother's reaction. (She can be hard to please.) We barely got through the front door, when she came traipsing out of the dining room with an armful of designer paper.
“Thank God you girls are here!” she shouted, her blond hair sweaty and unwashed and her eyes hovering above deep circles. I saw our poodle cowering under a coffee table, clearly hiding from my mom's crazy energy. “We need to cut out all of the place cards. I picked up a paper cutter at the store, but I'm having trouble with the blade. It just won't cut straight. And I need to put all of these fuchsia and tangerine votives in the glass holders. I started to glue-gun the lime ribbon on the stainless steel vases for the centerpieces, but I'm only halfway done. And we need to finish tying bows on these donation favors.”
“Donation favors?” Madison asked. “When did we decide on that?”
“This morning. Sylvia from the museum knew of this amazing charity in Philadelphia that works with underprivileged Latino students. It fit the theme.”
“Perfect,” Madison cheered. “Gifts to charities are very chic party favors right now.”
“I know. I like it so much better than minipiñatas.”
Madison nodded while Lilly and I looked at each other and tried not to laugh. I swear sometimes I thought that Madison and I were switched at birth; she definitely fit in with my mother better than I did. The two of them could talk for hours about china patterns and color schemes. I wasn't even present when they settled on the fuchsia, tangerine, and lime palette. (Though just to annoy them I called the colors pink, orange, and green. Their eyes froze and their fingers clenched every time I said it. I still found the reaction amusing.)
Madison immediately followed my mother into the dining room and got to work. She swept a sheet of hot pink opalescent paper into the cutter and sliced a perfectly straight line with ease. Despite having enough money to hire people to handle these details, my mother insisted that a few homemade projects would give the party “a personal touch.” Personally, I'd rather see someone else hot-gluing ribbon. But heck, what did I know? It was only my party.
Lilly, Emily, and I obediently followed her into the dining room.
“Looks like you guys will probably be staying for dinner,” I muttered. “Do you mind?”
“You kidding? It's Sunday. My parents will be ordering C14 and C22 from China Fun in about an hour. I'm not missing anything,” Madison stated.
“My dad went to work today, so I'm sure my mom is off having a good time elsewhere,” Emily grunted.
“She should hang out with
my
mom. She's probably a few martinis deep by now,” Madison joked.
“I wish I was,” my mother mumbled, before snapping her head up. “The dress! I have to see the dress! Did you get one?”
I smiled and darted toward the foyer where I left the dress hanging in its plastic garment bag. I pranced into the room and unzipped it triumphantly.
“Oh, baby, I love it!” my mom squealed. “It's perfect. It's fun, age-appropriate, gorgeousâjust like you.”
She grabbed me in an awkward hug with tears clinging to her eyes.
“Wow, Mom, it's just a birthday party. It's not my wedding.”
“I know, I know,” she sniffed. “I need a tissue.”