Zandra
Moving each dress one at a time, I searched for a dress that looked right for a mother. Pulling a nice blue one off the rack, I held it up. “How about this one, Taylor. Does this scream “mom” to you?”
She made a face that told me she hated it. “No, that one screams grandma.” She held up a very short, hot pink dress with spaghetti straps. “I like this one. You should go try it on.”
“That’s not a mom dress at all, Taylor.” I shook my head. “You’re really no help. Maybe I should ask a saleslady for some help instead.”
Taylor looked around. “Good luck with that. This place is one step below Target.”
A woman, who looked to be in her thirties and who had two little kids sitting in her shopping cart, came up behind me. “Sorry to interrupt, but did I hear you say you were looking for something that looked a little more motherly?”
I turned around and smiled at her, checking out her outfit. “I am. Am I in the wrong department or something?” I asked.
“No, but this place just might not have what you’re looking for. I can see that you’ve got some fashion sense, but your style is a little young.” She tapped her chin as she looked me up and down, taking in my short skirt, tight button-down shirt, and thigh-high boots. “I suggest you go down the Savanah Highway and look for a place called Jordan and Jane. They’ve got a great selection, and it’s a good mix of fashionable yet sophisticated. I know a lot of young moms who shop there.”
“Thank you.” I looked at Taylor. “I’m going to head that way, and you’re not coming with me.”
“Party pooper,” Taylor said, then stuck out her tongue. “Have it your way.”
“I’ve got to try harder to be the mom Fox deserves, Taylor.” I put the dress I’d been holding back on the rack.
The woman who’d made the suggestion perked up a little at what I’d said. “Do you mean Fox Price?”
I looked at her again. “Yes. Do you know him?”
“He and my son, Jake, go to school together. He’s been telling everyone about how he found his mom.” She clapped her hands. “And here you are. Isn’t this exciting?”
“Sure.” To be honest, I found it a bit more nerve-wracking than exciting. I thought I’d have a bit more time to settle in as Fox’s mom before having to meet the other parents from his school.
“I’m on the parent-teacher board. It’s kind of like the PTA, but since the school is private, we call it that.” She put her hand on my shoulder, as if we were old friends. “I would love to see you at the next meeting. Dr. Price always goes. He’s an avid supporter. I can’t wait to see you around the campus.”
“Um, thanks. I’m Zandra Larkin, and you are?” I asked, as she’d yet to tell me her name and I didn’t want to go to some meeting at the school without knowing the name of at least one other mom.
“Oh, how silly of me.” She extended her hand and I shook it. “I’m Christina Flanders.”
“Okay, well, thanks for the fashion advice. I look forward to seeing you at the meetings, I guess.” I grabbed my purse out of the empty basket I’d been pushing around.
But Mrs. Flanders had one more thing to ask, “So, how is he?”
I wasn’t sure what she was asking me. “How is who?”
“Dr. Price.” She fanned herself. “That man is something else. I’m assuming since you’re back in his life, you must be back in his bed. Who could resist?”
“Um, I’m not really comfortable answering that.” I started to walk away, feeling my body heat with anger and shock at her forwardness.
Who the hell does she think she is?
“So, you’re not with him?” she called out after me.
“Not officially, she’s not,” I heard Taylor say. “But she sure does have a thing for him, I can tell ya that.”
People would talk. I should’ve known that. But I hadn’t realized how much it would bother me.
As I walked out the door a couple of young girls, who looked like they were still in high school, looked me over. “Cute outfit,” one of them said.
I couldn’t even say thank you. I knew I must’ve looked like one of them, and not like the mother of a ten-year-old. Maybe that was why that Flanders woman thought she could ask me such a thing. I looked like I was in junior high, like I was the kind of immature young woman who would love nothing more than to gossip about boys.
Getting into my car, I looked in the mirror on the back of the sun visor, checking myself out. My makeup was thick, over the top. I was wearing false eyelashes, and I’d plumped up my lips using the most expensive plumper I could afford. My hair was curled in a way that accentuated the blue streaks. This was not a look I would associate with a responsible mother.
“You are the mother of Fox Price. You have got to get yourself together for that boy.” I looked in that mirror and swore I would never again see such a childish face looking back at me.
Glancing around the shopping center, I found a hair salon and drove straight to it. Marching inside, I spotted a flamboyant male hairdresser. He spotted me too, and he stood there, looking at me with his hand on his hip. “Oh, honey, please tell me you’re here to let me make you over.”
I put my hands on my hips. “I’m the mother of a ten-year-old boy. I need you to make me look like it.”
“You don’t happen to have any pictures of you with your natural hair color, do you?” he asked me as he pushed his hand through his own thick head of dark hair.
Pulling out my cell, I wiggled it at him. “I do.”
Two hours later, I emerged with a bare face and a head full of the same brown hair that I’d had in high school. The hairdresser had even added in caramel highlights that looked exactly like the ones I’d had naturally back then. The cut was still long, but fell in gentle waves.
Now all I needed were the right clothes, and I’d finally feel like a mom.
I got back in my car and drove down the highway until I spotted the sign that led me to Jordan and Jane. The price tags were a bit on the scary side, but the quality and style were worth it. Finally, this was exactly what I’d been looking for.
I left the store with a bag full of outfits that would make any kid proud to call me Mom. Sensible shoes, pants that fit just right, though not too tight, and shirts that covered me up respectably.
Once I got home, I put on some makeup, though I used it sparingly, toning it way down from the way I’d been wearing it for the past eight or so years. Emerging from my bedroom after putting on a pair of pale green slacks with a light gray, silky top and flats to match, I made Taylor’s jaw drop when she first spotted me.
“Who the hell are you and what have you done with Zandy?”
“You like?” I asked as I spun around, running my hands through my hair.
“Um, well, let’s see,” she held her chin as she looked me over. “I hardly recognize you. So there’s that. You’re very pretty. Gorgeous, even. But you’re not you.”
“I know!” I shouted with excitement. “Isn’t it great?” I skipped across the room and went to get a glass of wine. “I feel so … I guess the word is classy.”
“Yeah, you look classy.” Taylor frowned at me. “You don’t look like a cocktail waitress, Zandy.”
“I know.” I took a drink of the red wine then smiled. “It feels so cool.”
“Yeah, sure.” She seemed skeptical. “Um, how much do you think you’ll make in tips looking like that?”
Shrugging, I didn’t really care much about that. “You know I’m looking for another job, Taylor.”
“As what?” She eyed me then took my glass from my hand, stealing a drink. “A schoolmarm?”
I took my drink back. “Come on, Taylor. I don’t look that prudish. I just look better. More mature. Sophisticated, even.” I looked at myself in the mirror behind the table. “I like it. Do you think Kane will, too?”
“Sure.” She got her own glass and filled it to the brim with wine. “I would guess that he likes women who look like you. Old.”
“Old?” I gave my reflection another look. “I don’t look old. I don’t have any wrinkles or blotchy skin.” I ran my hands over my boobs. “No sagging tits. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She flopped down on the sofa. “Not, like, physically old. Like mentally old. You know?”
“Mature?” I asked as I went to take a seat too, making sure to sit like a lady. Legs crossed at the ankles, the way the queen grandmother taught her princess granddaughter in that movie.
“Yeah, mature,” Taylor said as she gave me an eyeroll. “Boring.”
“Hm.” I looked at her then took another sip of my wine. “Now I can see why parents find the eyeroll so annoying.”
“Funny how you were rolling your eyes at me just yesterday,” she mused, “and now that you’re dressed like a nun, you’re condemning them.”
I didn’t care what she said. I wasn’t going to let her get to me. I sat there, sipping my wine with great satisfaction, knowing I would stun both Fox and Kane.
“What’s Rob gonna say, I wonder?” Taylor pondered.
I hadn’t thought about him even once during my whole makeover. “Do you think he’ll fire me?”
“If you do your makeup closer to what you usually do and then pull your hair into a messy pony, you might fit in. The uniform would not look right on you if you kept up this subdued look that you’ve got going on right now.” She sat up, looking me over. “Yeah, just cake on makeup and mess that hair up and you’ll keep your job.”
But I didn’t want to go back to that look. I wanted to stay the way I was. I felt more comfortable than I’d ever felt before. “I can’t. I’ll have to let Rob know that I’m looking for a new job. But I won’t cake on the makeup or do my hair any differently.”
“Bye, then,” she said with a snarky tone.
Taking a long drink, I wondered if I’d just made a big mistake. Had I jumped into something before I was ready?
I knew I was ready to make this change in my life—I wanted to make it more than anything. And that included changing my job. But I didn’t have a new one yet, and it wouldn’t be good to lose it before I found something else. Maybe I’d moved too fast.
When my cell rang, I checked the screen and saw that it was Kane. “Oh, I’ll take this in my room.”
“Why, you two gonna have phone sex and you don’t want me to hear?” she joked.
“No. He’s decided to treat me like a lady, I’ll have you know.” I closed the door behind me then answered the call. “Hi there.”
“Hi, baby. How was the rest of your day?” he asked me with that smooth, deep voice.
“Good.” We’d had a wonderful breakfast together at his place, Fox, Kane, and I. “You make a mean ham and cheese omelet. Thanks for making breakfast. If you ever let me sleepover again—”
“Which I will,” he interrupted.
I felt my body heat up. “Well, then I’ll make breakfast next time. I’ve been watching cooking shows on YouTube all day long. And I even watched some videos about all those gadgets in your kitchen and found out how they work. So I just might surprise you guys next time.”
“That sounds like a great idea.” He paused then went on, “I know you’ve got work tomorrow night, but I was wondering if you could call in or something so that I can take you out on a real date. I really meant it when I said I want to show you that I care about you before we do anything sexual.”
That was a great reason not to go into work the next day. And that would give me at least one more day to try to find another job so that I wouldn’t have to worry about going back to Mynt. “That sounds nice, Kane. I would love to go out on a real date with you.”
He sounded relieved, as if he’d thought I might’ve said no or something. “Good. So, I’ll pick you up at seven?”
“That sounds good to me. Should I get all decked out, or just wear something nice and simple?” I asked, secretly pleased I’d done all that work on myself just in the nick of time.
“Um, well, let’s see. This was supposed to be a surprise.” He seemed to be stumbling around his words, which wasn’t like him. “Well, I’ve made reservations at Circa 1886 for us. I’ll be wearing a black suit and tie. So, can you dress accordingly?”
Now I was really glad that I’d had my hair done and bought some appropriate clothes. “I believe I can.” I tried to picture what he’d look like in a suit and tie, and my blood rushed through my veins. “A suit and tie, huh? I can’t wait to see that.”
“I clean up all right,” he said with a chuckle. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”
I could not wait to see his face when he saw me the next evening. “I just might surprise you, Dr. Price.”
“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope you do.”
I took a drink of the wine, trying my best not to get offended by what he’d said, but I had to admit that it did sting a bit. “I know I don’t look the part, Kane.”
“I don’t want to tell you what to do, Zandra.” He huffed. “I just want things to be as good as they can be for us. For all of us.”
“And that means I need to have a respectable job, drive a respectable car, and look respectable too.” I knew what I needed to be for him and for Fox.
“Image is kind of important in our world. At Fox’s school and at my work,” he said. “It may seem like an arrogant thing to say, but it’s true, Zandra. If I had green hair and a Mohawk, how many patients would I have?”
He must’ve thought I was being sarcastic, but I wasn’t. “I understand, Kane. I agree.”
The sigh he let out told me more than his words had. He needed me to be more. He needed me to be mature, responsible, and he needed more than just my words to reassure him that I was on the same page. Most of all, he needed me to not be an embarrassment to him or our son.
And that was okay. I was ready.