Girl had met most of the guests at the flower shop, but without the camouflage of her glasses no one recognized her. At work, Girl always wore her hair up in a bun and never wore makeup, her round gold frames more memorable than any of her features. Tonight Girl had shed her glasses and let down her hair. Her makeup wasn’t as skillfully applied as Sharon’s, but it was deftly done and subtle.
“Hi, I’m Greg,” a man said, introducing himself to Girl, not realizing they had seen each other at least twice a month since she started working there.
“I know you,” she said, a flirty tease in her voice.
“You do? From where?”
“The shop. I work for Ryan.”
“You are the shopgirl?” He was incredulous. “Oh my God! I didn’t even recognize you!” Girl felt like the ugly duckling turned swan. She felt worthy to be seen with Sharon, even though she wasn’t equal to her in looks by a long shot. Together they were striking, attractive, fun, like best friends in movies always were.
“I am dying to try caviar!” Sharon said. Girl didn’t tell her how leery she was of trying new foods, lest Sharon think she was uncool. Sharon heaped a spoonful onto a round of dry toast, and Girl tentatively spooned a smaller mound onto her cracker. “One, two three—bite!” Sharon counted off, and they popped them in their mouths at the same time.
“Salty,” Girl said, trying not to show how awful she thought it was.
“Kind of interesting, though, very posh,” Sharon said, nibbling the rest of hers. “I think I like it.” Girl was so glad she brought Sharon instead of her bump-on-a-log boyfriend, as the guys at the shop called him.
“So are you two a couple?” a man Girl didn’t know asked.
“No, we’re just friends,” she said.
It surprised Girl that in this situation, sitting next to Sharon and surrounded by gay men, Girl didn’t mind the lesbian assumption. Here, it didn’t seem like a big deal, and if she was going to be someone’s girlfriend, there was no one prettier and cooler than Sharon.
graduation
“I don’t know if I can be happy with you, but I know I can be happy alone,” Jacob said. It was the day before graduation, and Girl had spent the morning lying in the sun in her new Hawaiian Tropics bikini in the backyard grass. The day before, she had gone for orientation and testing at Monroe Community College. She had asked Jacob to come over to talk, and had let him go first. Now she wished she had gone first, because although she had also concluded that their relationship needed to end, it still hurt to hear him say it.
Jacob always had strong opinions on what Girl should and shouldn’t do: she shouldn’t wear black, she shouldn’t wear makeup, and she should never wear a bikini in front of other people, because that was the same as cheating. Girl had done everything she could to please him, but he still sank into a depression that he could not rise out of.
“I think we should agree not to talk to each other for a month, so we can really see what it’s like to be apart,” he said.
“Okay,” Girl said, although she thought that was a little extreme. “Let me get you your house key.”
“No, keep it. I’ll feel better knowing you have it,” he answered. She watched him drive away, the CB radio antennas bouncing on his car.
Girl woke up graduation morning with a stabbing sadness. Why couldn’t they have waited one more day, so she could have enjoyed graduation? She cried in the shower as she washed her hair, shampoo running into her mouth and making her spit. Girl put on her best dress, the white one with the lace and button corsage sewn on the left side. She carried her plastic-wrapped graduation gown cradled against her chest as she waited for the bus to take her to Rose-Marie’s house. Every month Girl bought an unlimited ride bus pass, and just like on school days, she walked the half-mile to the bus stop, rode downtown, and transferred to one of the Irondequoit bus lines.
When she got to Rose-Marie’s house, Rose-Marie’s mother was taking pictures of Rose-Marie, her brother, who was also graduating, and her brother’s friends. Girl unwrapped her gown and put it on for a picture with Rose-Marie. Rose-Marie was sweet to invite her over—Girl hadn’t seen her much in the past few months, because Jacob didn’t like her. Girl had thrown her away, but Rose-Marie was still here, ready to give her a hug and a ride to school.
“You are all wrinkled!” Rose-Marie’s mother said. Girl looked down. Her gown was covered in a grid of wrinkles from being folded in the package. “I steamed all of Timmy’s friends’ gowns,” her mother said, “and I would have done yours, too, if you had gotten here earlier. There isn’t time now.”
Girl posed in her wrinkled gown with Rose-Marie in her smooth one. She was embarrassed that she hadn’t known enough to iron it ahead of time, sad that her mother was not a part of the day’s preparation. Mother, Stepmother, and Brother were taking her out afterward, so it wasn’t like they weren’t celebrating. It was just when she looked at Rose-Marie’s mother—so happy that she had made an appetizer buffet, like it was a real party—she wished that she belonged to someone who was excited, too. She wiped tears away with the back of her hand, hoping she didn’t smear her makeup.
She and Rose-Marie had sat together for the rehearsal, and the stupid all-senior
