Second First Impressions

by Sally Thorne

  I’m taken aback. “Excuse me?” I look at Teddy but he shrugs. “I work all year for this party. And I’d never taunt you with anything.”

  “You somehow knew I didn’t go to my prom. My biggest life regret, and you knew. How?” She looks back down at the pastel invitation. “You googled it, didn’t you? I saw a program on TV that said everyone’s secrets are on the internet now.”

  “I don’t think that applies if you were born before 1930,” Teddy quips and earns himself a punch in the stomach from his tiny employer. It wouldn’t have made much of a dent but he doubles over, anyway, holding his midsection. “Call . . . security—” He gasps overdramatically at Kurt, who dithers helplessly.

  “Renata, I’m not a mind reader.” I try to remain patient despite somehow always being in the wrong. This is something that is clearly very painful for her. “Now’s your chance to come to our special Providence Prom.”

  “And I’ll have to attend as an old person,” Renata says through gritted teeth. “I was supposed to go as myself, when I was young. I wanted to walk in with my true love, in front of absolutely everybody. But Aggie said we couldn’t.”

  “Why?” I ask, but Melanie has been bristling at Renata’s tone and cuts in.

  “Most people are excited. I’m arranging for a clothing hire company to come up the week before, for anyone who wants to hire a dress. My invitations turned out so beautifully. Even you have to admit that.”

  Renata is caught on a detail. “Hire a dress? Hire. A. Dress? This just gets worse and worse.”

  Melanie shrugs. “Do what you want. You are not forced to attend.”

  I cut in: “But we hope you do. You could walk in wearing something totally spectacular.” The prospect of this tempts her. “We’re doing prom king and queen. All the music will be the same as . . . back then.”

  Teddy says to me, “My dad got an invite. Melanie said you even sent one to Rose. But where’s mine?” He seems genuinely hurt now. His hand is still cradling his stomach. “Didn’t I tell you when we first met that I love costume parties?”

  “It’s here.” I take it out of my purse. “I was going to give it to you tonight.”

  “Tonight,” Melanie says slowly. Suspiciously. “What’s happening tonight?”

  “I want to organize my true-love tattoo.” Renata unfolds the Christmas invitation again. She is fascinated by this thing. She gives me that look again, sharp and assessing. “I’ve got a few things I want to do. Teddy here has a contact.”

  He translates. “Renata wants a consult from Alistair.”

  “I’ve told him a prison tat will do fine, but he flatly refuses, obstinate boy,” Renata tells me. “Imagine me with a lonely teardrop.” She indicates the deep creases on her cheek. “Well, I want you to design it, Teddy, even if you insist that your friend does the inking. If it turns out terribly—”

  “It’ll turn out amazing. Thanks for the invite,” he adds, tucking it in his pocket. We all hear the note of regret in his voice.

  Renata says, “Ruthie, name a single boy who came back to visit once he left.”

  “To be fair, you destroyed each and every one,” I say with a faint smile. I want Teddy to push back against her claim but the silence stretches on until maybe he’s accepting that it’s likely true. “You never tell me how close you’re getting to your goal.”

  He turns away to riffle listlessly through a nearby rack of women’s pajamas and won’t reply.

  Renata says, “I told Aggie to pay him below minimum wage, but she wouldn’t listen. And because he’s too well paid, I’m going to have to get a new boy. It’s impossible hiring around Christmastime.” She hides her sadness with selfishness. I’ll try to do the same.

  “Maybe I’ll get some peace and quiet in the evenings.” Teddy doesn’t smile and I feel terrible. I say to Renata, “So I take it you RSVP no to my kind invitation?”

  “Don’t go that far,” she says grudgingly. “Let me talk to Aggie about it. Might be time to right that wrong.” I wonder if this true love of hers could possibly still be alive?

  I realize that Melanie isn’t contributing anymore and am not surprised to see she’s in a trance, swiping her finger left and right on her phone. She says to the room in general, “And we’ve got another ding.”

  She means my dating profile has had a match and a message has come through. I think that’s how it works? She hasn’t actually let me take charge of it. Holding the phone protectively to her chest, she adds, “Let me check it first.” She peeks and exhales. “Okay, it’s clean.” Teddy pulls a face anyway.

  Renata takes the phone forcibly from Melanie’s hand and squints at the screen. “No. Not for Ruthie.”

  I hold out a hand. “I’ll decide.”

  “What’s happening?” Kurt asks me. He’s effectively pinned behind the counter by a bunch of crazy people.

  “I’ve got another solitary match on MatchUp. Also known as a miracle.” I extend my hand and look at the message. Like the ones I’ve seen so far, it’s a simple how r u. A standard-looking guy, sitting on the hood of a car. “Not overly inspiring. Oh, hey, there’s my wool skirt.”

  I had donated back all the clothes rejected by Melanie’s assessment. I visit with the skirt like it’s my friend, but I can see now that it’s a heavy material in a joyless fawn brown. I can do better. I start browsing.

  “I’m on MatchUp,” Kurt tells me, leaning on the counter.

  “What has become of us,” I reply to him, pulling a rueful face.

  Teddy steps behind me in the narrow aisle between skirts and trousers and presses himself up against my back. The coat hanger I’m holding on to makes a long squeak across the rail.

  “Still on for dinner tonight?” The innocent question feels anything but. “I thought about what you suggested we have for dessert.” His forearm slides across my collarbones and I’m squeezed gently. I am engulfed in the warmth of him, the padded muscles, the lines drawn all over him. And what’s with how nicely we fit together?

  “Oy!” Melanie bellows before I can answer. “Get off her. We talked about this.” She bustles through, grabs Teddy by his clothes, and drags him to the back of the store. They begin having a hissy conversation that I’m very interested in, but I can’t eavesdrop because Renata is tugging on my sleeve.

  She hands me a dress. “Here. Hold this up against you. Hmmm, add it to her change room,” she tells Kurt. To me, she adds grudgingly, “This place is interesting. It feels like dumpster diving. Who knows what I might find.” She disappears face first into a rack of sweaters.

  Sorry, I mouth at Kurt, but he just smiles at me. I go to the counter. “She thinks we’re in a boutique.”

  “I got that impression.” He glances to where Melanie is scolding a downcast, cowering Teddy. “You haven’t brought friends with you before.”

  “I didn’t have friends before.” I realize with a jolt that it’s been days, maybe even a week, since I last messaged my forum friends in our group chat, and it was about an admin matter. We’ve had ten years of chitchat, deep confessions, and quality memes. “Well, I mean I had no real-life friends under the age of seventy.”

  “What about me?” Kurt’s playful and wounded. “I’ve been saving you all the good stuff for the past year.”

  “Of course. You’re a very good thrift store friend. Well, I’d better get started.” I go into the change room and consult the very random stack of clothing. It seems like everyone has a different idea of who I should be. After a false start, where I can’t pull a leather skirt up my thighs, I drop the next dress down over my head. It fits, and in thrift store shopping, that’s three-quarters of the battle won.

  “Melanie, could you zip me, please?” Do I think I’m in a boutique now? I open the door a fraction and she slips in.

  “Boy oh boy,” she drawls loudly as she drags up the zip. “What a pair of knockers you got there. This dress does them justice.”

  “Well, I’m not coming out now.” I press my hands to the hot-pink do
ts forming on my cheeks. “But you make a good point.”

  Melanie checks the tag. “Four dollars. Sold. First date dress located,” she adds in a shout to the rest of our entourage.

  “I can’t wear this.”

  “Teddy, give us a guy’s opinion.” She turns the handle. He falls onto us; he was pressed against the door. She’s annoyed, they exchange a look. Their earlier argument still wafts in the air. “Ruthie turns up for a first date in this. The reaction from her date is . . . ?”

  Teddy looks at me in the dress. He opens his mouth, sticks his fist into it, and bites.

  “Okay, good,” Melanie says briskly, pushes him backward, and closes the door on him again. “Look at yourself, Ruthie. Really look. You can actually see your”—she struggles to find a word that isn’t knockers—“your outline.”

  It’s true. I really can. And it’s not bad.

  “I’m a guy,” Kurt says to us. “I held that dress for her instead of putting it out on the floor. Don’t I get a look?”

  “You’re pushing my buttons, buddy,” Teddy snaps at him.

  “I’m the official judge on this,” Renata says. “Let me in.” She is admitted by our bodyguard Teddy. The space is getting claustrophobic. I can’t believe I’m pressed in by people who care. “Yes, I think this could work. I wonder if they could tailor it higher on the calf. She’s on the petite side.”

  Melanie sighs. “There is no on-site tailor, Mrs. Parloni.”

  “Can I come in, too?” Teddy says through the door hinge.

  “In your dreams,” Renata tells him.

  “I’m going to need someone to leave, or I can’t get this off.” I watch as Melanie and Renata stare at each other. Who will assert their supremacy? To my surprise, Renata relents. “Actually, Mel,” I say, “you go out too. I’m your boss, you can’t see me in my underwear.”

  Now that I’m alone, I can look at myself in this dress. I bite my own fist. Hot damn. I look exactly my age.

  And after this amazing find, nothing quite compares, but between Melanie and Renata, a capsule wardrobe is building. The entire process is underscored by heated debate. “I’ll buy her new ones,” Renata argues from the denim rack when I poke my face out to see what’s going on. “No, I draw the line at used jeans. Look at this pair. There’s a hole in the crotch.”

  “Stop thrusting your bony old fingers through it,” Melanie cries. “I’m having a nightmare tonight.”

  “I’ve never heard the word crotch said with such violence,” I tell Teddy to make him laugh, but he’s gone all serious. I square myself back at the mirror to look at the pink dress I’m wearing now. Compared to the miracle dress, this one is a little lackluster. “Thanks for coming along to help me today.”

  He’s dry. “I’m so selfless, coming along to watch you try on dresses. What a saint.”

  “No, I really mean it. Everyone’s moral support has really made me . . . well, made me feel like I can do this. I can finally look at myself, and see something different, and I can put myself out there.” I smooth out some creases in the dress. He doesn’t reply and I feel a twinge of self-consciousness. “Was that too deep and meaningful?”

  Melanie approaches, eyes critical on my dress. “Too short. I mean, it looks great, but you’ll never wear it.”

  I confess to Melanie, “It’s stupid. I’ve always wanted to try on a jumpsuit, but I never had the courage.”

  “Kurt. Jumpsuits.” Melanie actually clicks her fingers. He actually leaps to action. Renata toddles along behind them as they disappear, shouting about how Emilio Pucci does a nice silk one.

  “Okay, these are the keepers,” I say to myself as I look at the garments hooked on the wall. “I’ve had my one miracle today.” I’m grabbing at my back for the zip, when Teddy slides through the inch of open door, walks me backward, and closes the door behind us.

  “I can’t stand this.” He cups my chin with his warm palm, eyes on my mouth. “I can’t be out there while you’re in here. The worst part of this whole thing is, you don’t know the truth about you.”

  I’m surprised by how wretched he sounds. “I don’t know what?”

  “It hurts that you don’t know you’re lovely, exactly how you are. You don’t need to change. You don’t need to put on a dress, like it’s going to fix something. You don’t have anything that needs fixing.”

  “I know,” I manage to say with no air. “But changing just a few things will make me feel like I’m turning over a new leaf, and I’ll be able to convince someone else too.”

  “You’re the thousand-dollar dress on the rack in this thrift store and I can’t believe no one’s picked you up yet.” He’s frustrated with me. “What the fuck does it take for you to believe me, or lose this composure?”

  I guess all it takes is the invitation to lose it.

  I pull him down with two handfuls of clothes, and I get the kiss I’ve been thinking about since the moment I first saw him. He knows I need help in this moment, and his hands hold me steady. We’re making a firm, warm, confident press together. I can handle this, it’s completely fine. In fact, the feel of his finger underneath my ear is giving me more of a shiver than our mouths. It’s a privilege to smell his skin this close.

  What was I worried about? I’m doing it and it’s fine. As the thought crystallizes and I relax, he moves our lips and his hand slides the zip down my back, and I feel it everywhere. That’s the part I’ve forgotten about. Movement. He’s easing my mouth open in a confident way. I know it’s practice he’s gotten with a lot of other girls but I can hardly care when I’m in the hands of someone so capable.

  My stomach is in free fall, and this kiss gives me an adrenaline boost I could not have anticipated. It’s obscene, this beautiful mouth on mine. I pull him closer, closer, closer. Show me what you know. Teach me what I don’t. I don’t care that he’s leaving when I could have him for this moment in time.

  There are hundreds of minutes that could be filled with kissing before he disappears.

  And as suddenly as it began, I am now back in that lonely place: life when I am not being kissed by Teddy Prescott. I didn’t even get my hands into his hair.

  He’s resisting my hands as I try to pull him down again, but any rejection I might feel is stroked away by his palm on my bare back. In a blink, I realize he needs a moment to compose himself. I know this is someone who’s kissed a lot of girls, so to see him so shocked makes me dizzy. “Whoa, you’re good,” he breathes like it’s a confession. “You’re so, so good at kissing.”

  “Can I help with anything, Ruthie?” Kurt says through the door. Even he thinks he works at a boutique now. What is he going to do? Go grab me a different size?

  Teddy pulls his hand out of my dress, and just as I think we’re done, he reaches down and spreads his hand on my butt. We stare into each other’s eyes. His are sharp with jealousy. “No, I’m fine,” I say in a very strange voice.

  “Hey, I’m going to send you a friend request, if you want to message later,” Kurt says in a confiding tone through the door. Teddy’s hand on my butt is squeezing tighter and I don’t have a brain cell left to answer. “Well, yeah,” Kurt says after a long silence. Poor guy, how awkward. “Think on it.”

  “Yeah, think on it,” Teddy whispers against my earlobe. “You want him in here with you, not me?” His perfect teeth bite. I want to nail the door shut. “Maybe next time I’ll give you a real kiss.”

  “A real one?” My skeleton slithers out the soles of my feet.

  He laughs and rubs a thumb across my burning cheek. When I take a sidelong glance at the mirror, I see our differences full length; he’s so big, so dangerous-looking, but the hand on my chin is artful and light. All this time, I thought we were mismatched, but under the clothes, down to the skin, I think we’re more nicely matched than I thought. I am a fantastic color after a few touches of his mouth. He’s supernatural.

  “You like looking at us in the mirror. I’ll remember that. Do you know what I’m saying?” His mou
th lifts in a sexy smile. “No, don’t be embarrassed. It’s more fun for us both if you tell me the truth about what you like.”

  “I don’t know what I like.” That’s pure honesty. “But I’m pretty open-minded.”

  “Ohh boy. I’d better get out of here before I get carried away.” He smirks in the direction of Kurt. “I’m glad I’m around to fend off your admirers.”

  “Ruthie,” Melanie says through the door. “We couldn’t find any jumpsuits, but I found you the cutest playsuit.” I open the door half an inch and she hands it in. “I don’t know where Teddy is, but I’ve got to reel him in,” she says through the door hinge. “He’s being ridiculous.”

  “He usually is,” I reply just to make him pull that affronted face.

  “So Kurt’s into you, and he’s pretty much what you wrote on your clipboard.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” my voice squeaks when the big hand on my butt squeezes again.

  “Teddy’s deliberately sabotaging you. He can’t be a part of the Sasaki Method if he deliberately derails things, just to keep himself on your couch. I’ll go see if he’s outside . . .” Her grumbling voice disappears.

  I look up at him. “Is she wrong?”

  “Not really. I’ll be damned if I give up my place as Ruthie’s Favorite Man.” That’s all he thinks about. Himself, my cheese, my couch, my adoration. He doesn’t think about what happens to me after he leaves. After Mel leaves.

  When Sylvia returns, and winter comes to Providence, I will be alone and it will be harder than ever before.

  “Out,” I tell him, and he obeys. He’s clearly got a lot of experience sneaking out on stunned girls, because there’s no screech from Melanie or Renata. Kurt doesn’t say something like, Get out of this store, you pervert. Nothing happens. Where Teddy’s concerned, it’s always a perfect crime.

  I spend a total of $67. In thrift world, that’s enough clothes to fill a tractor’s front bucket. Every single piece has been jointly signed off by Melanie and Renata, so I’m confident, and as Kurt stuffs everything into bags I’m noticing a color palette has emerged: pinks, yellows, and grays. I’m still in a daze from what Teddy did to me, and formulating the speech I’m going to give him about how real friends show support, when Kurt pushes a pad and a pen over the counter.