i'm so happy every time i complete a flash fiction friday entry. i can only hope anybody reading enjoys it as much as i do the writing...
big up jj for continuing to make it possible. here's my latest attempt:
The sound it made when it broke... was so loud i swore it echoed through the whole house. i froze for a second, trying frantically to think of how i’d explain if my parents came running in to see if i was ok. a moment later, relieved @ the conspicuously absent sound of grownup feet rushing to inquire about my illicit activity, i sprung into action, promising god – and now that i’m thinking about it, i’m not even sure if i still believed in god by then, or if it was just instinct and the need for forgiveness from anybody – that for this reprieve, i’d never do something so stupid and risky again.
i never undressed so fast, before or since…
but that was the first time.
i knew i had to do it, but that first scare made me paranoid.
i waited until i saved enough $ to buy my own.
buying my own – another big first – i walked into the underwear section in target, trying to act like i was much older and shopping for a girlfriend. it took me a long time to work up the courage to hit frederick’s of hollywood. guilt is powerful.
check-out @ target with my booty was an exercise in fakery to cover embarrassment – much needed – but then i could lock myself in my room with my full-length mirror and my own stuff that almost fit right. thankfully, i was given the off-the-rack gift at birth – no way was i actually trying lingerie on in a department store – then, anyway – not that i’d really call what i picked up that day “lingerie”…but then, then it was the most thrilling thing i'd ever done.
after awhile i got bold enough to add makeup – i knew i had an eye for colour going in, at least. i’d remade my mother a million times in my mind. i think she inspired me to do better. insipid cow.
anyway, college was when i found out how big my world could be. fell in with the right people and never looked back. when i graduated and went home to get all my stuff and run off to be fabulous in new york, i packed it all, except for the first bra and panties i’d bought @ target – i laid those out on my bed, got dressed in my pink+black candy-striped strapless minidress with pink-toed black stilettos and full hair and makeup, picked up my matching valises, and walked downstairs like the modern-day scarlett o’hara i’d become, and said,
“mother – remember when i was in high school, that year-and-a-half you spent wondering how come you couldn’t remember doing it, but when you tried to put on your red pumps for your women’s club awards, the left heel was broken? well, i wanted to tell you, i’m sorry. i know they were your power-heels, and i didn’t mean to ruin them.”
i set down my luggage, slid my black beaded clutch from my armpit, reached in for the $500 pulled from my scarlett account the night before and put it in her hand, limp and clammy with shock @ the magnitude of what she didn't know.
“you should replace them with prada.”
and then i left.
it pays so well to be me, i can remember it any way i want.