The Wisdom of Hair (19 page)

The Bridal Room was set in a corner of the store with a mannequin bride and six fancy bridesmaids at the entrance. Another sleek mannequin in a black sequined gown was perched on top of a baby grand with her head turned toward the plastic wedding party. There were several artificial bouquets in a big wicker basket at the base of a pedestal, and just about every issue of
Bride
magazine from the past few years was in another basket beside a half dozen chairs upholstered in pink satin.

“Good morning,” a woman with big hair drawled as she adjusted the chain attached to her eyeglasses. “And how are y’all this morning?”

“We’re fine, thank you, just fine,” Mrs. Farquhar said. “We’re from out of town and we’ve come in search of the perfect wedding dress.”

“Well, congratulations. I can tell you, you came to the right place. We do all the really big weddings in Atlanta, you know, and, of course, those darling debutantes wouldn’t think of going anywhere
else to order their dresses. Let me see your ring, honey,” she said as she reached for Sara Jane’s left hand. You could tell she wasn’t impressed. “Where are y’all from, now?”

“Davenport, South Carolina.” Mrs. Farquhar beamed. “Right close to Myrtle Beach.”

“Oh,” she said, as she tried to steer Sara Jane over toward a rack of samples that were on sale. “We just put these on clearance this morning. And let me tell you there are some nice dresses here, half off of what you see on the ticket, and if you see a little mark on ’em or a split seam, we’ll knock a little more off the sale price.”

Mrs. Farquhar looked peeved by the big-city saleslady who had written the three of us off as country bumpkins. But before she could say anything, a smartly dressed older woman walked into the department with her skinny, redheaded daughter who looked absolutely miserable, and Darnel, as her name tag said, left us to ourselves. I couldn’t help but notice the way she made over that ugly girl and brought out dress after dress for her. Darnel did everything but kiss the girl’s bony butt and that huge diamond ring on the girl’s finger.

Mrs. Farquhar saw a young saleslady walk through the department and stopped her.

“Excuse me, Miss. Could you please help us?”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll try. I don’t usually work in this department. This is Darnel’s domain, but it looks like she’s busy. What can I do for you all?”

“We are looking for the perfect wedding dress,” Mrs. Farquhar began again.

The woman didn’t ask to see Sara Jane’s ring or talk snooty to us. She showed us all kinds of dresses before excusing herself to
check on something in the stockroom. None of the dresses she showed us were fitting right; none of them were making Sara Jane feel like a princess.

“This is going to be a long day,” Sara Jane said, as she sat down in a big pile of white fluff.

Darnel walked by us a couple of times but was too busy nipping at the heels of that miserable redhead to notice us. It made me wonder why Mercedes, as her mama called her, was even there. I don’t think it was for love.

A little boy came zooming through the department into the dressing room looking for his mother, who also happened to be the mother of the redhead. He had too much energy for all of us, especially Darnel, who looked nervous as he raced about. But she was determined to make a big sale, even if she had to bite her tongue until she got it.

“When I get married, my girlfriend is going to wear a frog suit,” the little boy hollered as he dove under the skirt of his sister’s dress and hid.

“Damn it, Alexis,” Mercedes cussed her own mama. “
Do
something about him.”

“Of course, dear,” the woman said, like that ugly girl really was a princess.

It took her a while to drag Jeffrey out from under all that taffeta and crinoline with his sister still on the pedestal, and by this time I’m sure poor Darnel had to be thinking the country bumpkins from Davenport were looking pretty good. Alexis pulled the little boy onto her lap and wrapped her long, slender arms around him in lieu of a straitjacket.

“Now, Jeffrey, you must settle down.”

“I’m gonna wear a frog suit to ’Cedes’s wedding and say ‘ribbit’ when it’s time for her and the poop-head to say I do. Then I’ll be all practiced up for when I get married.”

“Jeffrey,” Alexis said with the most serious look on her face. “Now, what did I tell you about weddings? Don’t you remember? Whose day is it first?”

The boy thought for a minute. “The bride’s.”

“That’s right.” She was delighted but still holding him tight. “And then whose day is it?”

“The bride’s mother.” He was figuring out how things work real fast, because he was losing the excitement that had propelled him like a motor.

“And then whose day is it?” she asked.

“If he’s lucky, the groom’s.” The little boy was nearly sedate.

“Good boy,” she said and kissed him on the forehead.

Sara Jane was in the dressing room waiting to take her turn on the pedestal while her mother and I watched the Mercedes and Jeffrey Show. All of us were peeved that Darnel was letting that ugly girl hog the pink-carpeted platform, especially Mrs. Farquhar. When Mercedes was done, Sara Jane came out in a pretty little off-shoulder gown.

“Honey, can you step down and let Miss Myers up there a minute?” Darnel asked after Sara Jane had been on the pedestal for about three seconds. Sara Jane didn’t like that dress anyway, but she looked at Darnel like she had better think twice before she made that request again.

“Tell me…Margie,” Mrs. Farquhar said to the woman who had been so helpful to us. “Do you work on commission?”

“Yes. Yes ma’am, I do,” she said with a puzzled look.

“Good, because I think I see the perfect dress right there.” Mrs. Farquhar pointed to a particular gown behind glass doors that was locked up tight with the other gowns in the Designer section.

“Yes ma’am, I’ll go get the key,” Margie said, excited over the prospect of making a big sale. “Darnel, I need the keys to the glass closet.”

“Margie, I was helping these folks earlier. I’ll get it for them; you can go on back to Lingerie now.”

Darnel left the redheaded girl there standing alone on the platform with no one to ooh and aah over her, because her mama was off chasing Jeffrey again. She opened the case and pulled the dress out and showed Mrs. Farquhar the price tag. “Three thousand dollars,” she announced, looking for the sticker shock in Mrs. Farquhar’s eyes.

Mrs. Farquhar took the dress out of her arms and handed it to Margie. “Can you help Sara Jane into this one, please? I think it’ll do just fine.”

When Sara Jane came out of the dressing room, I knew exactly what Mrs. Farquhar meant about knowing when you’ve found the perfect dress. I have never seen anything so beautiful in my life. It wasn’t just the dress or my beautiful friend; it was the two of them together that left no doubt that this was indeed the dress.

The ugly redheaded girl announced to her mother, so that God and everybody could hear, that there couldn’t possibly be anything for her in Atlanta. On their way out, the girl’s mother was trying to appease her by promising to take her to New York or Paris if need be to find the right dress. Darnel watched them go and then watched us like we were going to steal something.

Margie took the long train out of its special bag and gave it a
gentle shake; the beaded white illusion with inset lace flowed down the pedestal steps out the entrance of the department. “It’s cathedral length, honey,” Margie whispered as she pinned the veil on Sara Jane’s head and looked like she might just cry over such a beautiful sight. “It’s perfect.”

With the perfect
dress ordered and paid for, we were high as kites and decided to set out for a mall everybody in town was talking about. Lenox Square made the downtown Rich’s look cheap and plain, like those dresses on the sale rack in the Bridal Room. Mrs. Farquhar was so excited over the prospect of shopping in stores like Saks and Neiman Marcus that she talked in hushed tones when we passed through their doors, like they were holy places.

I paid too much for a plain little bangle that was just costume jewelry, but it came in the prettiest little gold foil box that said “Saks Fifth Avenue” in raised letters across the top. The saleslady put it in a fancy paper sack that I kept for the longest time, even though I lost the bracelet a couple of weeks later at one of Sara Jane’s parties.

Mrs. Farquhar bought a tiny box of Godiva chocolates with four pieces inside, one for me, one for her, and two for the bride. I
didn’t know anything about fancy chocolates, but that little candy was the best thing I had ever put in my mouth. I looked on the bottom of a two-pound box and nearly fell over when I saw that the box of chocolates cost more than the entire outfit I was wearing.

Mrs. Farquhar shopped, and Sara Jane and I gawked at the rich people and the rich prices of most everything there. I decided there were two kinds of shoppers at that mall—folks who looked like they belonged there and folks like us who came to gawk. We didn’t mind being gawkers, and I know if Mrs. Farquhar had not spent a small fortune on Sara Jane’s dress that day, she would’ve blended right in with those rich people.

“Sara Jane, let’s look at a few dresses for your trousseau,” Mrs. Farquhar called, holding up a silk dress that looked similar to the one under my bed back home.

“I know you’re probably sick of this by now, but I can’t say no to her when she shops like this. Do you want to look around? Maybe meet us back here in an hour or so and we’ll have lunch?”

“Sure.” Not knowing if I’d ever see such a place again in my lifetime, I wanted to explore the mall. I had what was left of the fifty dollars I’d earned styling Ethyl’s hair; I hadn’t intended to spend it, but when you’re with somebody who shops like the Farquhars do, you’re so caught up in the moment it’s easy not to worry about if you’re going to have enough to eat later on. You just shop.

The least expensive place in the mall was Rich’s, which wasn’t as big as the downtown store but tried to be every bit as grand as the other Lenox Square stores. Luckily, the prices were the same. Somehow, I ended up in the Lingerie Department with $37.50
burning a hole in my pocketbook, staring at a pretty little short thing on a mannequin.

“Do you like it?” The saleslady smiled and winked at me. “It would make a good early Christmas present for some happy man. You give him that, and no telling what you’ll get.”

She laughed, making me blush.

“What is it?”

“It’s a teddy. It’s short and sweet and guaranteed to work wonders.”

While I was gawking at the mannequin, she’d pulled one from the rack that was just my size and was dangling it in front of me the way Mama had dangled her “Cabaret” outfit, only this time I was enticed.

“There’s no harm in trying it on.” I nodded like a zombie as she led me to the dressing room. “It comes with silk panties.”

I slipped into the teddy and wondered what in the world I’d need the panties for. The hem of the thing came just above my bare bottom. My long legs were tanned and lean. One of the spaghetti straps slid off of my shoulder sending chills down my thighs at the thought of Winston’s fingers pulling the straps down, his breath on the lace edge of the neckline as he pushed it out of his way. The price tag caught my eye. Fifty-five dollars.

“It’s on sale,” the woman hovering outside the dressing room door called. “I know it looks like a dream on you.”

I could make $37.50 go a long way back in Davenport. “How much on sale?”

“It’s worth ten times what it costs and it’s forty percent off.”

I did the math and looked at myself again. Minutes later, I
stuffed $4.50 in my pocket, then hid the flimsy thing in the bottom of my purse.

We ate lunch at a fancy restaurant and celebrated our “good shopping luck,” as Mrs. Farquhar called it, with a slice of grasshopper cheesecake. Now, I must admit I was put off by the name, but it was every bit as good as that Godiva chocolate and was so rich, I slept most of the way home. Mrs. Farquhar slept, too, with her prize for the day, a little sample of the wedding gown fabric, in her hand. I woke up a couple of times to check on Sara Jane, because I knew she wanted to hurry up and get home so that she could tell Jimmy she had found the dress.

“Are you getting tired?”

“I’m fine, Zora.” She smiled. “Go on back to sleep. We’ll be home before you know it.”

When I woke up, she was pulling into my driveway. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and smiled at Mrs. Farquhar, who was still fast asleep.

“She’s worn out,” Sara Jane whispered. “It’s more the excitement of the hunt than the actual shopping that does it to her.”

“Thanks for inviting me. I had a ball.”

“Don’t forget your purchase.” She handed me the Saks bag with the bracelet in it.

I was glad it was dark and she couldn’t see the shame on my face. I told myself it came from keeping things from someone who loved me and was always as open as can be, but it had more to do with my motive for buying that little piece of lacy silk and the woman’s guarantee it would work wonders.

“I love you, Sara Jane.” I slung my pocketbook over my
shoulder and heard the bag crinkle inside. “Have fun with Jimmy tonight.”