Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
My phone buzzes on the dresser, the vibration causing it to dance toward the edge. I swipe it before it falls and look to see who it is. The insurance company. A voicemail notification pops up, and I read the dictation. Looks like they’re going to lend me a car until I receive my pay out. Good. One less thing I have to worry about.
I’m pretty sure they have my address, but I did just move, so just in case, I email them the new one and set my phone back down to finish getting ready.
“Hey, Mom—” Paige stops at my door, her mouth parted as if she just walked upon a princess. She scans me from head-to-toe, then tucks her chocolate-colored hair behind her ear, her beautiful face clear of makeup. She’s wearing her favorite black sweats with a matching sports bra. She’s relaxed and comfortable.
“What do you think? Too much?” I glance down at what I’m wearing, not sure if it’s just cute to me or if it actually looks good. Maybe I should change, this feels too weird.
“Wow, I mean, when you said you were going out to lunch with a friend, I didn’t realize it was a date.” She crosses her arms and sits on my bed, staring at me as if I escaped from the zoo. “I mean, I don’t know if it’s a date. Maybe.” My head starts spinning. “Do you think it’s too much for a lunch date?” I’m starting to second-guess this whole thing. I should cancel. I can’t do this.
“What? No! You look amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress,” she says, her tone filled with astonishment. My body temperature begins to rise as my insecurities strangle me. The more people compliment me or take notice of something new like a haircut or shoes, the more uncomfortable I become. I don’t know why I’m like this. You would think any situation that gives you attention would make you want to do more of whatever it is, but it makes me even more self-aware and self-conscious.
“You know what? I know what you need! Wait here!” She holds her index finger up and runs out of the room. Her bare feet slap against the hardwood floor and stomp up the stairs.
“What are you looking for?” She doesn’t reply as she continues to rummage, then her feet hit the stairs once more, before she appears in my doorway, out of breath, a smile full of contentment on her pretty face. She holds her fist between us and slowly unclasps her fingers, revealing a pair of drop earrings. They’re small with a silver chain holding a radiant diamond in the shape of a teardrop. The tear catches in the light and a spectrum of luster dances across the wall and ceiling. I take them in my hand and look up at her. She’s nearly bouncing on her tiptoes with excitement.
“Where did you get these?” I ask, my voice thick with awe.
“Grandma got them from an art fair last year. She said she didn’t know if they were real, but they reminded her of me.” She shrugs, interlocking her fingers in front of her. “She said she traded a painting for them.”
“Wow,” is all I can say. My mother was a free-spirit, through and through. She always made bold decisions and didn’t care what the world thought of her. I wish I had her bravery. “They look real,” I mutter, rubbing the pad of my finger over them.
“You should wear them. I mean, who knows if you’ll get an opportunity to dress up again. The guy may turn out to be a loser, so you should go all out.”
I’ve wanted to switch back to my sweats and a hoodie five times now, and I’ve only had this dress on for twenty-minutes.
I go into my bathroom and slip the earrings into each earlobe piercing. They actually do add something to complete the outfit. I feel pretty and better about myself.
“See? They look good!” Paige whispers, looking at my reflection from behind me. Turning around, I rest my hand on her shoulder, elated she came in when she did. I needed her reassurance. She’s turning into an amazing young lady so fast, I can hardly see the little girl she used to be. It’s unfair how quickly time passes.
“You sure you’re going to be okay here by yourself?” Usually, my mother would be home with her. Now, she’ll be alone.
“It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve been home by myself, Mom.” That teenage tone snaps back into place, and I’m pretty sure she rolls her eyes.
“When?”
“Grandma left a couple times. I think to see her boyfriend or something. I don’t know.”
I do remember coming back once or twice and my mother not being there. It had infuriated me at the time because she was supposed to be watching Paige, not sneaking off like a teenager.