I was up before the alarm; I was showered with my new dress on before Steven was even awake. I was the first one in the car.
My dress was lavender silk chiffon. It had a tight bodice and narrow straps and a floaty skirt, the kind you’d spin around in like a girl in a musical. Something Kim MacAfee might wear. I’d seen it in a store window in February, when it was still too cold to wear it without tights. Tights would ruin it. I’d used my father’s for-emergencies-only card, the one I’d never used before. The dress had stayed in my closet all this time, still covered in plastic.
When my mother saw me, she burst into a smile and said, “You look beautiful. Beck would love this dress.”
Steven said, “Not bad,” and I gave them both a little curtsy. It was just that kind of dress.
My mother drove, and I sat in front. Steven slept in the backseat, his mouth open. He was wearing a button-down shirt and khaki pants. My mother looked nice too in her navy pantsuit and cream pumps.
“Conrad’s definitely coming today, right, bean?” my mother asked me.
“You’re the one who talks to him, not me,” I said. I put my bare feet on the dashboard. My high heels were in a heap on the floor of the car.
Checking her rearview mirror, my mother said, “I haven’t spoken to Conrad in a few weeks, but I’m sure he’ll be there. He wouldn’t miss something as important as this.”
When I didn’t say anything, she glanced at me and said, “Do you disagree?”
“Sorry, Mom, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up.” I didn’t know why I couldn’t just agree with her. I didn’t know what was holding me back.
Because I really did believe he was coming. If I didn’t, would I have taken extra care with my hair that morning? In the shower, would I have shaved my legs not once but twice, just to be safe? Would I have put on that new dress and worn those heels that made my feet hurt if I truly didn’t believe he was coming?
No. Deep down I more than believed it. I knew it.
“Have you heard anything from Conrad, Laurel?” Mr. Fisher asked my mother. We were standing in the parking lot of the women’s center—Mr. Fisher, Jere, Steven, my mother, and me. People were starting to file into the building. Mr. Fisher had already checked inside twice: Conrad wasn’t there.
My mother shook her head. “I haven’t heard anything new. When I spoke to him last month, he said he was coming.”
“If he’s late, we can just save him a seat,” I offered.
“I’d better get inside,” Jeremiah said. He was accepting the plaque commemorating the day on behalf of Susannah.
We watched him go because there was nothing else to do. Then Mr. Fisher said, “Maybe we should go in too,” and he looked defeated. I could see where he’d cut himself shaving. His chin looked raw.
“Let’s do that,” my mother said, straightening up. “Belly, why don’t you wait here for another minute?”
“Sure,” I said. “You guys go ahead. I’ll wait.”
When the three of them were inside, I sat down on the curb. My feet were hurting already. I waited for another ten minutes, and when he still didn’t show, I got up. So he wasn’t coming after all.
