Along Came Jordan

by Brenda Maxfield

  "Oh my goodness," she said. "No, no, no."

  I tried to cover myself, hunching over and wrapping my arms around my waist.

  Margo was laughing. "Please take note — the dress was Sally's choice. Here, I think we can do much better."

  I pulled her choices into the room and snapped the door shut. One of the formals was shimmery white with a V-neck and slender straps. Tiny rows of beads ran across the bodice. The absolute best part was the blue tag — it would be half of seven dollars. This had real possibilities. I put it on and looked into the mirror. I wouldn't mind being seen in this one.

  I opened the door and stood before Sally and Margo. Four eyes widened and stared.

  "Ay! Que bonita!" Margo said.

  I tugged on the bust. "I'm flat as a pancake."

  "Can't blame that on the dress," Margo said. She took a step closer and pinched the fabric at my back, tightening up the front. "Better."

  I twisted around and looked in the mirror again. "Yeah, it is better."

  "It's too long. And seriously, Emili? You left on your tennis shoes?" Sally said.

  "Well, I'm not gonna wear them tomorrow."

  "I can sew," Margo said. "Tía will help me. We can take a few darts in the back and shorten it."

  "By tomorrow?" I asked.

  "By tomorrow."

  Chapter Eleven

  When I woke up on Saturday, I felt a flutter of happiness. It'd been so long since I'd felt anything close to happiness upon wakening, I was confused for a moment and wondered where I was. I rolled over and looked at my clock and bed stand. Yes, I was in my own bedroom living my own life.

  And something fun was happening today.

  I jumped out of bed and stepped into my sweat pants and slippers. Maybe the ball would be the beginning. Maybe my family would get back on track. Maybe Sarah would say something.

  While I was thinking of Sarah, she knocked on my door and opened it a crack. She had bed hair, and her eyes were puffy with sleep.

  "Come on in," I said.

  She shuffled in and sat on my bed. I tousled her hair. "What's up?"

  "Nothing. What are you doing?"

  "I'm going to get some breakfast. You hungry?"

  She nodded.

  "How do you feel about pancakes?"

  Her eyebrows shot up. "Pancakes? You'll make some?"

  "Why not? There's probably some mix left in the cupboard. Wanna help me?"

  She shook her head.

  "No matter, come on." I grabbed her hand and pulled her off the bed.

  "Dad's sick."

  "I know, he's got a cold. He's been coughing for weeks."

  "No, I mean serious sick."

  "What?" I turned to look at her. "How do you know?"

  "I heard him through their door. Then Mom left."

  "She left? Why? Was she going to the drug store or something?"

  Sarah shrugged. I dropped her hand and hurried down the hall to my parents' bedroom. I gave a gentle knock. There was no answer. I knocked louder.

  "Come in." Dad's voice sounded choked, weak.

  I opened the door and stuck my head through. "Dad? Are you sick?"

  The bedroom air was heavy with the sticky smell of cough drops and vapor rub. Dad lay in bed with the covers pulled under his chin.

  "You okay?"

  He hoisted himself onto his elbow and started coughing and wheezing.

  I walked to the bed. "Want me to get you anything?"

  He shook his head between gasps.

  "Where's Mom?" I asked, and then I thrust out my hand to stop him from talking. "No, don't answer. Just quit coughing. I'll call her."

  I hurried back to my room for the phone. Mom picked up on the first ring. "Where are you?" My voice raised an octave.

  "Drug store. Your dad's sick."

  "I know. He won't stop coughing."

  "Emili, relax. He always acts like this with a cold and sounds like he's coughing up a lung. Honey, I can't talk. I'm at the counter. I'll be home shortly." She hung up.

  I went back to Dad. He'd stopped coughing, but his face was red and sweaty. "Sorry, kid," he said.

  "It's okay. Want some juice or something?"

  "No. I'll be fine. Need to rest."

  "Okay. Try to go to sleep." I gave him a small smile and tiptoed out of the room. Sarah waited for me in the hallway, her face scrunched with worry.

  "He'll be fine," I told her. "Don't worry. Mom's getting some medicine. Now… about those pancakes."

  She latched onto my arm, and we headed for the kitchen.

  ****

  That afternoon, I was scheduled to work for two hours at Cosas Preciosas. Dad couldn't take me, and I didn't want to ask Mom, who once again was acting crabby and weird. When I told her Margo's aunt hired me, her brow crinkled and she surveyed me through narrowed eyes.

  No congratulations, no "I'm happy for you." No nothing.

  I decided to ride my bike despite the frigid temps. Before I left, I got Sarah all settled watching cartoon re-runs. She wasn't big on cartoons, but I felt better knowing she'd be semi-entertained while I was gone.

  I bundled up in my heaviest jacket, wound my scarf around my neck multiple times, pulled on my fat fuzzy gloves, and waddled like a doughboy through the kitchen. Mom stood at the stove, watching the teakettle.

  "Work?" she asked.

  I nodded.

  "Riding your bike?"

  I nodded again.

  "I could take you…"

  "It's okay, Mom. I'll bike it." I grabbed the doorknob and then turned back to her. "Have you looked at the selective mutism papers yet?"

  The kettle whistled, a slow drawn-out screeching noise. Mom lifted it from the stove in a cloud of steam. "Emili, I appreciate your concern, but it's not selective mutism. All Sarah needs is more time to adjust."

  My insides boiled like the tea water. Unmoving, I stared at her. She couldn't hold my gaze and turned away, busying herself with her mug and tea bag.

  I tromped out.

  The air assaulted my face with icy fists. I climbed on my bike and pedaled like a crazy person, which only made the attack worse. Even my eyelashes became frozen toothpicks. My outsides may have been brittle with cold, but my insides were still seething.

  Why wouldn't Mom consider selective mutism? Why was she being so stubborn? I knew she loved Sarah, so why wouldn't she help her? The burden of my family made me feel like I was walking in a pool of wet cement. Was I the only one trying to save us all from drowning?

  Soon, I'd have enough money to take Sarah to a counselor. I had it all planned out. Our local hospital was the closest place I could find with a counseling center. I knew they took insurance money, and I figured we'd be approved for their sliding payment schedule. If I showed some cash up front, they'd see Sarah. I was sure of it — who'd turn down a cute kid and her big sister? Didn't people go into the medical field in the first place because they were compassionate?

  I arrived at Cosas Preciosas and leaned my bike against the side of the storefront. I pried my frozen fingers off the handlebars. My nose was running when I pushed through the door.

  Chi Chi saw me coming. "Ay, chica, come in, you must be frozen hard." She rushed to me and circled me with her short arms. My face was smashed into her soft shoulder, and her hearty hug squeezed the breath out of me.

  She loosened her hold and backed up. "Big date with Jordan tonight, yes?"

  "It's not a date."

  "Margo says it's date. Come." She drew me with her to the back room. There, hanging against the crammed shelves of shoes and small boxes, hung my white dress.

  "Margo and me, we fix it." She pronounced "fix" like "feeex." I smiled.

  "You put on now."

  "Chi Chi, I'm supposed to be working." Two hours' worth of wages wasn't much in the first place, and I didn't want it cut with me playing dress-up.

  "I the boss, yes? You be paid. Try it on. Quick."

  I reached up and took the dress from the hanger, careful not to drag the
gown on the floor. The bell at the door tinkled.

  "Go. Try on," Chi Chi instructed as she hurried past me out to the customers.

  After being outside, standing in the dressing room felt like being in a sun-booth. I wiggled out of my virtual snowsuit and slipped into the gown. I knew it fit before looking in the mirror. No more gaping bust line, no more puddling at my feet. I gazed at myself in wonder. It was beautiful — truly and wonderfully beautiful. The new darts sewn into the back pulled the front fabric tight, making it look like I had a chest. I twirled inside the tiny dressing room and laughed out loud.

  I heard the door tinkle again, and Chi Chi pulled open the curtain. When she saw me, her chubby face broke into a grin so wide, I could see the shiny silver caps on her back teeth.

  "Perfecto. It's perfect." She was cooing.

  I nodded, almost giddy. "It is, isn't it? It's perfect."

  "Now, take off dress. Work time."

  I pulled the curtain shut and changed back into my regular clothes. I worked like a Marine all afternoon, so grateful to Chi Chi I would've scrubbed her toilet with a toothbrush, had she asked.

  The two hours raced by, and as I was bundling up to leave, I realized I had no way to get the dress home without folding it and stuffing it under my coat.

  "No hay problema," Chi Chi said. She pulled a plastic bag as long as my dress off a roll behind the counter. She placed the dress inside the bag with concentrated care, tied a loop in the end of the bag, and doubled the end back up to hook on the hanger. "Now, put over your head. You have dress backpack."

  I giggled. I looked ridiculous with the dress hanging over my puffy coat like an elegant backpack, but I didn't care. I gave Chi Chi a quick hug before I ran outside and hopped on my bike.

  ****

  Sarah hadn't moved the whole time I was gone. She was still curled into the corner of the couch, watching cartoons.

  "Are you brain-dead yet?"

  She craned her neck, looking around.

  "No one's in the kitchen to hear you," I said.

  She breathed out. "Emili, your dress…"

  "I know. Isn't it great?" I plopped onto the couch next to her, undid the knot at the base, and held the hanger high. "I have to help at the ball tonight at school."

  "It's a princess dress."

  I nodded. "Yeah, it is."

  "Who are you going with?"

  "This guy from school. Well, I'm not actually going with him. He's on the committee with me, and we have to help with whatever Janae bosses us into." I pressed the dress close, and the plastic whispered against my neck.

  "I didn't know you had a boyfriend. Is it the guy who comes over?"

  "Yeah." I smoothed her hair down her back. "And he's not my boyfriend, Sarah. I don't have a boyfriend. He's a friend."

  "Right, a friend." Sarah nodded and grinned, and I was shocked to hear teasing in her tone.

  For a fleeting moment, I had the old Sarah back. Maybe Mom was right — all Sarah needed was more time.

  My phone rang, and I dug for it in my pocket. "Hello?"

  "Sally here."

  "Hey, Sally. What's up?"

  "You still going to the ball?"

  "Why wouldn't I be?"

  "You haven't heard from Jordan?"

  My heart dropped. "No. Why?"

  Long pause.

  "Sally, what's going on?"

  "Er, nothing."

  "This isn't funny. You're making me nervous."

  Another pause.

  "I mean it. What's going on?"

  Her breath gushed out. "I thought maybe you heard from Jordan."

  "No, he's at school working in the gym. There's a bunch of them putting up the last-minute decorations."

  "Why aren't you there?"

  "I had to work this afternoon. Besides, I'm not exactly on Janae's good side. I figured it was better if I avoided the whole setup thing."

  "Has Margo called?"

  My chest prickled with dread. "Is she okay? What's going on?"

  "She's fine, and nothing's going on. I got a text from Pamela."

  "Jordan's Pamela?"

  "The exact same. Seems she might be coming back."

  Sally's words hit me like a punch in the stomach. "When? Are you sure?"

  "I'm not sure of anything. It's not like Pamela Riggins and I were BFFs. All I know is I got a text saying she might be coming our way soon. To be honest, she was kind of mysterious. I texted her back asking when and why, but didn't get an answer. I thought maybe she'd texted Jordan."

  My mind whirled trying to process the news. Was she moving back? Or visiting only? Hadn't Jordan said her dad promised they'd visit? Did Jordan know anything about this?

  Numbness seeped into my heart. I sank back to the couch. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. That's what I was. Here I'd been telling everyone Jordan and I were only friends, that this ball thing wasn't a date, and that I didn't like him — not in a dating kind of way.

  It was all lies. I liked him — more than I wanted to admit to anyone. More than I wanted to admit to myself. I tilted my head to the side and visualized his soft brown eyes. I saw the hurt on his face when he spoke of Pamela. Then I saw his warm smile when he looked at me, and I remembered the thrilling quiver whenever we touched.

  "Emili? You still there?"

  "Still here."

  "Jordan might not even know. Maybe she's not coming for a month or more. Don't worry, okay? I just thought you should know."

  "Right. Thanks, Sally." I closed my phone and looked at my watch. Jordan had texted me earlier saying he'd pick me up at six, since the workers were required to be there early to make sure everything was in order.

  I shook my head and looked at the ceiling. Everything was not in order.

  Once again, I'd fallen for the wrong guy.

  ****

  I dropped my phone smack in the middle of my perfume bottles. If it so much as buzzed, the bottles would rattle. Every nerve in my body was on alert, and I was certain I wouldn't miss a sound even if the phone whispered. I resisted a strange urge to plug my ears. Part of me dreaded hearing what Jordan might say. If I played deaf, I wouldn't have to know.

  The walls were rebuilding around my heart, and I heard every brick that dropped into place. Could I go through this again? Would I have to?

  I was getting delusional, but I had to be honest — me in one hand, and Pamela in the other. Weighing us back and forth, I was sure who'd lose.

  I grabbed my brush and yanked it through my hair until it gleamed like the new black pumps in Chi Chi's display window. I was going to get ready as if nothing had changed, and I was going to play the princess in the fairy tales I loved as a kid.

  I crawled around in the bottom of my closet, where I had seven pairs of shoes all lined up like little soldiers. Sometimes, my neat fetish disgusted me. I grabbed a shoe and threw it to the corner of the closet. So there. I tossed every shoe, making sure none of them landed by their mates. Seven pairs of shoes didn't make much of a mess, but it still classified. I sat back on my haunches and surveyed the disarray.

  I had one pair of dressy shoes, which were silver flats with shiny sequins sewed around the toe. I pulled them out and placed them on the floor beside me.

  I looked at the jumble of shoes. Hating myself, I retrieved every shoe and put each back in place until my small militia was in order again.

  Someone knocked on my door. "It's open."

  Sarah came in. "Can I watch you get ready?"

  "Sure, why not?"

  "Will I ever go to a ball?" she asked.

  "Of course. Why wouldn't you?"

  "Everybody hates me."

  I flipped my hair back over my shoulders. "It'll come. You have to be patient." I braced myself for an argument, but she only nodded.

  She sat on the edge of my bed and watched me. In my entire life, I'd never taken so long to get ready. Again, I wished for Farah. She would've gotten a thrill out of getting me ready, not to mention she'd make me look better than I ever could. I lean
ed close to the mirror and fussed with my eye shadow. It was light gray with a swish of dark gray at the top of the lid, and I thought it made me look older and more sophisticated. Choosing the right perfume was easy. It was gardenia tonight, all the way — my absolute favorite.

  I glanced at my silent phone, like I'd been doing every thirty seconds. Maybe this whole Pamela thing was a false alarm. Maybe Jordan didn't even know she was coming, or maybe she didn't contact him because they weren't together anymore. I was probably making a big deal out of zippo.

  "Sarah, help me get into my dress, will you?"

  She took the dress and held it for me to step into, and then she zipped me up. "You look super pretty."

  I hugged her to my side, feeling a rush of fondness for her. "You're a good sister, you know."

  Her smile broadened, and she laid her head on my shoulder. "Thanks."

  I took one last glance in the mirror. I had a sudden urge to show Dad how I looked, but he'd been sleeping all day, and I didn't want to wake him up and start him coughing again. Instead, I went out to the living room.

  When Mom saw me, her eyes bugged out and she put the newspaper down. "I thought you were helping at the ball, not going to it. Where did you get the dress?"

  "I am helping, but it's a ball, so I dressed up. No big deal. I got the dress at Morgy's Thrift Shop."

  She stood, walked over to me, and touched the beading on my bodice. "Quite impressive for Morgy's. How are you getting there tonight?"

  "Mom, I already told you. Jordan's taking me."

  She put her fingers on her chin and nodded. "Ah yes. The nice young man who's been coming over. Do I sense a replacement for Marc? Oh wait, I mean a replacement for Lance?"

  "We're only friends," I said, surprised I didn't choke on the words. After watching myself primp and fuss for two hours getting ready for this non-date, it was clear we weren't just friends in my heart.

  Crap.

  How was I supposed to avoid drama and a big mess if I was falling in love again?

  Double crap.

  The gravel outside crunched, and I flew to the window. Jordan. I grabbed my sweater and reached for the front door.

  "Emili!" Mom's voice was strident. "Do not open the door. Have I taught you nothing? You don't rush out the door for a date. You let the young man fetch you properly."