“Go back to the dress.”
“I barely remember it, Casey. I was so overwhelmed.” Ella’s slender neck bent as if burdened by a heavy yoke.
Casey then recalled how some women dragged girlfriends along to choose a rain hat, an item costing fifty bucks at Sabine’s. Ella had chosen her wedding dress alone, and though Casey would’ve preferred to do that for herself if the occasion ever arose, it occurred to her that Ella had had no choice about it. Ella had no mother or sister. Ella was closest to her father and Ted, but they were useless for a number of things that women did for one another without thinking. Casey had many people who liked her but few she told anything to and fewer she asked anything of. From the outside, it looked as though Casey and Ella were opposites, but they were similar in the small number of intimates in their lives.
“Do you think I’m too young to get married?” Ella asked. David had joked once that she was nearly a child bride.
“Well, no.” Casey dished out the appropriate response. She herself had entertained the idea of marrying Jay a few weeks ago, but she saw now how perfectly stupid that would have been.
Ella fidgeted with the flap of her handbag, clicking and unclicking the latch, refusing to look into Casey’s eyes. Ella knew she wasn’t a confident person, but when it came to her upcoming marriage, she felt more insecure than usual. It wasn’t her father’s style to overrule her, not that it had ever needed doing, but he’d mentioned in a vague way that a long engagement might be nice. What would Ella have done if Casey said out loud what her father refused to say?
It was impossible for Casey not to notice the profound worry in Ella’s pretty dark eyes.
“Ted’s a good guy. A veritable catch. For God’s sake, he’s Korean even. How did you possibly manage to find one?” Casey sounded shrill at the last thing, because that fact to her was more shocking than anything. Nearly all the Korean-American women she knew were with white guys. Then Casey reminded herself that her sister had recently found a Korean to date, too. Then she wondered if Tina had gotten laid after all.
“Do you like him?” Ella asked, somewhat reassured.
“He went to Harvard twice. He can’t be stupid, right? He’s got an insanely well-paying gig. And he’s good-looking.” Casey did not mention love. Because it would’ve sound like crap and therefore contaminating the true things she’d tossed out. As it was, each word of praise was costing her something dear, but payment, Casey felt, was required.
Ella smiled. “I really appreciate you doing this.”
“No problem.”
“I mean you coming with me today. These places are not easy for me. I feel afraid of the salesladies. You coming here,” Ella repeated, “this means so much—”
“Shut up, Ella.” Casey tried to sound funny when she said this. “You’re letting me live in your place for free, lending me your shoes even. . Thank God we’re the same size.” Casey had almost no cash left, no available credit, and if she didn’t get that job as a sales assistant, then she didn’t know what she was going to do. Her face looked normal now, so she could finally go see Sabine to ask about work; they’d only spoken on the phone since she’d left her parents, and it was always better to talk to Sabine in person. But her parents wouldn’t want her to depend on Sabine anymore. Working weekends during the school year and full-time during summers for four years was more than they could tolerate. Everything with Koreans, Casey thought, was about avoiding shame. Her life was still a train wreck. And she missed Jay all the time. Every morning she wanted to bind her hands to keep herself from phoning him. “This is nothing.”
Ella interrupted her. “You know, I’ve always wanted us to be friends. At church, for all those years, I had wanted you to like me.” She smiled like a child. “And I didn’t know how to get you to notice me.” She blushed.
Casey didn’t know what to do with all this sincerity. “Thank you,” she said. She got up from the sofa, and Ella followed behind.
The red-haired sales associate met them and brought over Ella’s sample dress. It was common for brides to show off their dresses to their friends. “It’s good to see you again, Ella. And how do you do?” The sales associate smiled glibly at Casey. Her name was Joan. Joan Kenar, accent on the second syllable. Two strands of marble-size Kenneth pearls circled her mottled throat.
In no time, Ella popped out of the dressing room wearing the sample dress that she’d ordered. Casey sat on the white leather sofa set aside for the bridal party, her ankles crossed, spine vertical. Ella looked at her friend. Casey’s face went vacant, as though she weren’t in the room anymore. Ella understood then that Casey hated it. Why should it matter whether Casey liked it or not? Ella thought. But it did. It mattered so much. In fact, it was all that mattered. Then Ella knew. Ted wouldn’t like it, either.