For the Love of Friends(16)

“That’s it! But the saleslady said it wasn’t good on me.”

“How did you feel in it?”

She sighed. “Beautiful.”

I typed the model name into Google, went to the designer’s website, then clicked the where-to-buy link. “A store in Baltimore has it,” I said, and gave her the name. “Go try it on there. If you still love it, get it. And if anyone says it’s not good when you think it is, kick them.”

Sharon hesitated again. “I don’t want to go to a store again. They literally come in with you and make you take your bra off.”

“I feel like you should at least get Mardi Gras beads if you have to show your boobs to someone random. Can we start a bridal shop where we give the brides beads for every dress they try on?” She finally laughed. “Do you want me to call and make you an appointment? I can come too, if you want.”

“Would you?” she asked. “I didn’t want to ask with how much you have going on.”

“I’d love to.”

“Thanks.”

I smiled. I was a rock star when it came to this whole bridesmaid thing.



I hadn’t seen Sharon’s mother in nearly ten years. Partially because there was no reason to, but more by choice. Sharon and I met freshman year of college and decided to room together sophomore year. A decision that we repeated for junior and senior years as well, when we had an apartment off campus, despite her mother.

Not that her mother disapproved of me. Quite the contrary, back then at least. She heavily encouraged Sharon to spend more time with me because I was such a “good girl,” which we both laughed about behind her back. I was a terrible influence on Sharon, who had never had more than a sip or two of beer before she met me. That changed quickly.

My first time experiencing the full force of Mrs. Meyer, however, was move-in day sophomore year, when she steamrolled into our dorm room and ordered us to rearrange the furniture to her liking. “Is she for real?” I mouthed to Sharon behind her mother’s back. Sharon just shook her head at me to prevent me from saying anything, her eyes wide. I had never seen anything like this. Sharon, who had just as much of a mind of her own as I did when it was the two of us, turned into this meek little mouse as soon as her mother stepped into a room. It was like Sharon was a balloon and her mother was letting the air out.

When she had arranged our room to her satisfaction—including a pair of matching comforters, my own having been deemed unacceptable compared to her memory of her own college dorm room’s matching state—she insisted that we accompany her to lunch, where she lectured Sharon on how to lose the freshman fifteen from the previous year. “If it sticks around for sophomore year, you’ll never lose it,” she warned.

The second she left, we rearranged the room the way we had discussed over the summer. Then ordered a pizza. And breadsticks.

“Dude,” I said. “Your mom—”

“I know and I’m sorry. You just have to let her do her thing and then do what you want when she’s gone.”

“What happens when she comes to visit? I’m not redoing the room every time she pops by.”

“She just wanted to walk around campus and go out for meals last year. It’ll be fine.”

I loved Sharon. But I now understood why her previous roommate had found someone else to live with.

Sharon’s college graduation party was the last time I had seen Mrs. Meyer, and I still remembered the way she pursed her lips and said “I see,” when I told her about my new job at the foundation. She expected me to go to law school or, at the very least, be writing for the Washington Post or New York Times. I wasn’t even engaged to my then-boyfriend, who had visible tattoos.

But I wasn’t twenty-two anymore. And at thirty-two, I didn’t care in the slightest if she didn’t like my job. Was I curing cancer? No. Did I love what I did? Also no. But was that any of her business? Hell no.

I arrived at the bridal salon just before Sharon and her mom and greeted them as soon as they walked in. “Lily,” Diana Meyer said coolly. “I didn’t realize you would be joining us today.”

I looked to Sharon, who scrunched her face into a guiltily apologetic smile.

“Yup. Just invited myself along. That’s how I roll.”

“I see,” she said. She looked around the bridal salon and turned back to Sharon. “It’s not as nice as the last one we went to. Where did you find this place?”

“They had a dress I liked and wanted to try on.”

“And we came all the way to Baltimore for one dress?” Her lips were pursed in a disapproving pout.

“Please,” Sharon said. “I really like this dress. And if it’s no good, we’ll try on others.”

Her mother nodded her assent, and Sharon was whisked away into a dressing room while Mrs. Meyer began browsing the shop for choices she found suitable.

Sharon came out a few minutes later, and I smiled broadly. It wasn’t even that the dress was that great, it was that Sharon looked radiant in it. She looked happier than I had ever seen her.

“It’s nice,” her mother acquiesced. “If a bit simple.”

“I like simple, Mom.”

“You’ll try on the other ones I picked out. Then we’ll decide.”