Page 107 of Malaise
Regularly getting drunk at the pub on weekends and picking fights with the young guys who came through on bus trips.
And keeping to himself. She told me that before I showed up she’d struggle to get him to say hello, and then all of a sudden there he was, the brother she used to know, back, alive and well.
“He’s like a neglected dog that’s found a new home,” she’d said. “He’s remembered how to wag his tail again.”
Which only makes me wonder more why he seemed so quick to give it up? Does he really think he’s that unworthy? That he’s that much of a bad influence to me?
Boy has another thing coming if he thinks I’m going to let go without a fair fight.
“Knock, knock!”
“Shit, that was quick.” I leap up from where I’ve been lost in thought on the bed. “You break a few speed limits or something?”
“Girl, I don’t muck around when it comes to shopping.” She flits across the room to snatch up my bag. “Anything else you need?”
“Nope. My whole life pretty much is in there.”
“Good, then let’s go.”
The afternoon flies by in a blur of lightweight fabrics and shoes that defy gravity. I always thought the free parking limit of three hours at malls were pie in the sky considering I’ve always been the kind to get in, grab what I need, and get out in under two. But as it turns out, there are occasions to go over the three-hour limit, and picking a “this is your reason to be free” outfit in the Saturday rush is apparently one.
It takes us four and a half hours to settle on a pencil skirt, heels, and a cute asymmetrical, strategically slashed blouse that’s every part dressed up while still sticking with my rocker style. My brows are threaded to within an inch of their existence, and by the time we’re heading back to the car I’ve got an appointment card for professional make-up to be done Monday morning.
“Are you sure we aren’t going overboard?” I set the bags down in the back seat and get in beside Tanya.
“Positive.”
She paid for the make-up upfront when I tried to backpedal once they gave us the price. A simple twelve-dollar supermarket mascara and budget bin eyeshadow and eyebrow pencil have done me well the past few years—no need to go changing now.
Although by the light in Tanya’s eyes, she must think I have some serious potential once a professional has worked her wizardry on me.
“I hope he appreciates it,” I say with a laugh. “Nothing worse than going to this effort for him to not even notice.”
“Trust me,” she deadpans. “He’ll notice.”
***
God, I hope Tanya was right.People file into the courthouse with purpose, striding along the sidewalk with a clear direction. I run my hands down the front of my skirt, shuffling it around so it sits on my hips right. The shoes make me feel snazzy enough, but damn, when the make-up artist swung her circular mirror my way and asked me what I thought?
I took a picture for posterity before I ruined the woman’s handiwork with happy tears.
I look like one of those women on Instagram who always has impeccable make-up and perfectly styled hair. I look hot.
He’ll notice, for sure.
“I’m nervous.”
“You and me both, babe.” Tanya slips her hand in mine and pulls in a deep breath. “Let’s get this show on the road, yeah?”
We’re stepping toward the main entrance when her arm yanks against mine as she comes to an abrupt halt.
“What the…?” She’s turned toward the far end of the building, gaping at what she sees in the distance.
Or should I say whom.
We wait, sweating in the seasonal sunshine, for her father to catch up.
“I didn’t think you’d come, Dad.”