Chapter 2 - What She Said When the Phone Stayed Up
The curtain didn't move. That was the first thing I noticed. The brown fabric hung half-open between us and neither of them reached for it. I could hear the air conditioning humming above the mirrors and my own breathing too loud in my ears.
My arms were starting to shake from holding the phone up. I locked my elbows against my sides to keep it steady. The light case was slick against my palms. On the screen I could see the two of them framed small and bright, his dark suit next to her navy dress, her hand still curled around his arm.
She blinked first. She let out a short laugh, too high, and tilted her head toward the gold mirror like she was checking herself in it.
"Oh, honey," she said. "Turn that off. We were just joking about bills."
Daniel didn't laugh. He stood with his hands clasped in front of him, fingers laced so tight his knuckles looked white. He looked at the carpet, then at the rack of gowns behind her, then at the carpet again. Anywhere but at me.
I didn't lower the phone. The red recording dot kept blinking. I could see the timer counting up in the corner — twenty-three seconds, twenty-four. I thought if I moved, if I stood up or tried to smooth this over, I'd lose whatever nerve had made me lift it in the first place.
"Keep it on?" I said. My voice came out thinner than I wanted. "It's fine."
Her smile tightened. Up close I could see the lines around her mouth and the way her statement necklace caught the overhead light when she shifted. She tugged a little on Daniel's arm.
"Tell her, Daniel," she said. "Tell her we were kidding around about how expensive apartments are these days."
He unclasped his hands, then clasped them again. He cleared his throat.
"Mom's just —" he started, and stopped. He glanced at her, then back down. "Don't make this a thing."
That silence sat heavier than anything else. I stayed seated on the little bench in the cubicle, the lace of the dress scratching the back of my thighs, one white heel planted on the platform and the other half slipped off. I told myself to breathe. In through my nose. Keep the phone pointed at them.
Forty-one seconds. Forty-two.
Her laugh was gone now. "You look ridiculous," she said, quieter. "Put the phone down and let the lady help you get changed."
As if on cue, there was a knock on the outer frame by the mirrors. A girl in a black dress with a measuring tape around her neck leaned in, smiling, holding a clip with alteration tags.
"Hey y'all, just checking in," she said. "Do you need help with the bustle or want me to grab another size?"
None of us answered right away. I could feel the heat in my face. The associate's eyes moved from me in the wedding dress with my phone up, to Daniel's mother still holding his arm, to Daniel staring at the floor.
"I'm — we're fine," his mother said quickly, smoothing her dress with her free hand. "Family joke. She's taking a video for her dad."
The associate nodded, but she didn't come closer. "Okay. Just knock if you need a pin. Take your time."
She stepped back toward the sales floor. I heard her heels click once, twice, then stop like she was still close enough to hear.
I looked back at my screen. Fifty-eight seconds. Fifty-nine. A full minute.
Daniel finally lifted his eyes for half a second and they met mine over the top of the phone. There was no anger in them. That scared me more. Just flat avoidance, like he wanted the minute to run out.
May you like
His mother wasn't avoiding anything. She stared straight at me, her mouth pressed into a line, her fingers still dug into his sleeve. The appointment was shot. The dress suddenly felt too tight around my ribs to breathe in.
I didn't stop the recording.
