Taylor sat still while her makeup
was being applied. She felt like a real celebrity. Hair, wardrobe, makeup,
mani/pedi you name it; she was being primped and pampered for what would be the
best night of her life. Prom. Her dress was still hanging on the door. She
admired the sequined bodice that flared into a beautiful ball gown. Yellow.
Taylor scanned her closet its door ajar and saw nothing yellow. Her eyes
perused the floor that had as many clothes strewn across it as were hung. One lemon
tank top that she never wore peeked out from the corner. Taylor looked horrible
in yellow. But after trying on at least thirty dresses, at what felt like as
many stores, this was definitely the one. Well, the only affordable one. There
were other dresses, but before she could reach out and brush her hand against
the boning of their frame, her mother had the tag in her grasp and announced
“No, this is not a dress for someone with a baby.” Taylor heard that every day
of her pregnancy and into the first 5 months of her daughter, Drema’s life. No, that makeup, salon, shoe, clutch, limo,
lip gloss, hair moisturizer, toothpaste, cereal is not for someone with a baby.
Taylor was amazed that her mother could make the same statement, with the same
inflection, and maintain the same grave intent without breaking into laughter.
Taylor and her twin sister, Abby, stood out of her sight and mimicked her exact
words.
“What’s funny?” her mother’s voice
raised like a hand ready to swat.
“Nothing, Momma.” Both girls
assured her as Taylor pulled her to the clearance rack with the yellow dress.
Abby did Taylor’s nape length hair
with a small flat iron that pressed through thin wefts. The two girls went to
the drug store the night before and purchased a manicure and pedicure system.
They stayed up all night doing their nails and toes, laughing about prom shopping,
practicing dance moves and attending to Taylor’s baby, Drema. Makeup was the
finishing step and Taylor’s, cousin Brandi, did it for free. They would take
her boyfriend Jasper’s car. Taylor looked at her phone, it was 6:30 PM. Prom
started at 7:30 PM. She reviewed everything she still needed to do before the
official kick off of the best night of her life. Finish makeup, put dress and
shoes on, feed baby, put her to sleep. The knock on the door would come soon
and Taylor could feel her scalp tingle in preparation for a full blown flop
sweat. But before she could panic, her spinning mind was interrupted.
“Oh, Taylor, you look stunning,”
Brandi crooned. “Wait!” she grabbed her shoulders to stop her from turning to
the mirror. “Don’t look until you put on your dress.” Brandi’s sentiments were
nuanced with the magic of make-believe.
“Okay!” Taylor’s exuberance interrupted
the surreal, and she jumped out the chair and did a high knee half jog half
jump step with excitement. She grabbed the dress hanging on the door and headed
to the bathroom but the door was shut and she could see the light coming from
underneath - occupied. Taylor stayed in the hallway. There was plenty of space
and Taylor thought she may have even felt a breeze. She took off her sweats,
top and bra. Brandi walked into the hallway and put a towel over her head to
protect her pixie hairdo and safeguard the ball gown from her painted guise.
“Lift your arms straight up.”
Brandi insisted. Brandi got the dress over her arms and began to pull from the
bottom. Taylor squirmed back and forth, side to side until her face was free,
then arms and while Brandi pulled, Taylor pushed down from the top until the
gown was in place. Both ladies took a deep breath.
Taylor spun around, “Zip me!” If only it was that easy. The gulf was
wide. Brandi said a prayer under her breadth.
When the zipper finally reached the
top, Brandi called out, “Won’t He do it?”
“Yes, He Will”, Brandi responded.
“Hey
Glory!” The girls went into a mini-church shout.
Drema must have known her mother was
all ready, because right before Brandi could guide Taylor’s foot into the left
shoe, they heard a small cry.
“These shoes are the bomb, Girl.” Brandi
spoke while still admiring the rhinestone studded heels. All her accoutrement
was on point, but the shoes were designer, and probably cost more than
everything else put together.
“Yes, aren’t they nice? They’re
Abby’s from last year’s prom. I love them.” Taylor responded matter-of-factly.
“Okay, now look.” Brandi turned
Taylor around to the full length mirror that leaned against the wall. “I’ll go
get the baby.”
Taylor looked in the mirror and she
almost couldn’t believe her own eyes. She looked like a princess. “I am a
princess.” She affirmed.
Brandi had the baby in her arms and
tears in her eyes. “Yes, you are a princess. But girl I gotta go.” She put the
burping towel over Taylor’s shoulder and handed her Drema. Brandi loved her
little cousin but she wasn’t real big on babies. They made her nervous. They
gave each other air kisses and Brandi let herself out.
“Okay, clutch, lipstick, cash, door
key…” Taylor said each word in an animated voice as if she were telling Drema a
long ago fairytale as she dropped each item in the satin purse. She started for
the stairs and then turned “Oh, shawl. That’s right my little snugum wugum,
shawl.” She repeated in a sing-songy voice.
Brandi walked slowly down the staircase,
careful not to drop shawl, bag or baby. If she tripped in the stilettos that
she was not accustomed to wearing all would be lost, so she called on the name
of Jesus grateful for each step. Taylor put Drema in her play seat and went to
the kitchen to warm a bottle of breast milk. It took three days for Taylor to
pump and properly store enough milk for this evening. Before she sat down to
feed Drema she looked out the window. No passing cars. She grabbed her clutch
to look at her phone and check the time. Urgh! She realized she left her phone
upstairs. She took a deep breath and fed Drema. She anticipated a knock on the
door any moment. Drema was fed, burped and rocked back to sleep and still
Taylor did not hear any music outside, a car pull up or a knock at the door. It
was 7:30 PM. Her phone rang and her heart sank. She did not want to chance the
steps again in stilettos nor did she feel the urgency to kick off her heals and
make a run for it. There wasn’t anyone she wanted to speak to on the phone. As
soon as her cell stopped playing the ring tone for India Arie’s “Can I Walk
with You” another phone atop the steps started playing K-Ci and JoJo’s “This is
the Day”.
She tried not to listen, but
couldn’t help but hear every word of the one-sided conversation. The voice
feigned understanding. “Oh, no that happens. You can only do what you
can do. No, she won’t be mad. Thank you for calling. Letting us know.”
Taylor stared at the steps, the
same steps, she had called out to Jesus twelve times just minutes before, and a
tear rolled down her face. This could not be happening. Her sister, Abby, was
going to prom the 2nd year in a row, Taylor wouldn’t even make one –
her senior prom. Embarrassed by the tears that were no longer taking turns
dropping one by one, but now puddling over her beautiful makeup, and clearing
away her princess façade, Taylor stared out of the window and braced herself on
the sill as she listened to the creak of all twelve steps.
“Hey, Babe.” The voice was warm
with consolation. Taylor turned to see Jasper and her emotions mixed. He was so handsome
in the black suit they had found at the Thrift Store, and his new vest and bowtie
looked like a splash of sunshine straight from Taylor's dress. Jasper took Taylor in his arms. “The baby sitter canceled.”
“Yeah, I heard you talking. This
was so stupid anyway. I’m sorry for taking you through all of this.”
“No, this is a very special day for
you, for us. I’m sorry it didn’t work as planned, but you can still go. I’ll
stay here with Drema.” Jasper tried to wipe the smudged mascara from her face. “You
look beautiful, gorgeous, banging!” He spun her around. “You are a Princess and
I am the luckiest frog in the world.”
Taylor thought about taking Jasper’s
car and heading to prom. Teen mom shows up to Prom without a date. Everyone at
school was already talking about her. Goody
two-shoes is having a baby. No one believed that she and Jasper were really
getting married. Even Abby acted funny sometimes around her friends – the cool
clique. Showing up alone would just make her life worse. Then she thought about
calling her mom. They didn’t live that far, but the only thing her mom ever
said more than “That [insert item here] is not for someone with a baby,” was “You
should name the baby Drema ‘I Don’t Get to Go’ Miller”. Nobody told you to lay up and have an “I don’t get to go.” Mhm, that’s
what happens when you have an “I don’t get to go.” Taylor could not take
her mother tonight.
“No, I want to stay here with the
two of you.” Taylor’s faux enthusiasm diminished with each syllable. Taylor
looked over at Drema and she was wearing yellow too. That is where the golden
hue came from. Drema wore yellow 90% of the time and her nursery was decorated
from top to bottom with yellow blankets, drapes, lamps and area rug. When Taylor’s
mother found out she was pregnant, she insisted that they be prepared as early
as possible even before they knew the sex, so everything was yellow. Taylor’s
mom had spent a mint on that one room in their project apartment.
Yellow; it
was meant to be. Jasper and Taylor listened to music, exchanged corsage and
boutonniere, took selfies, ate peanut butter crackers, drank tap water on ice and
did all of the dances that Taylor had been practicing. Drema drank the breast
milk her mother had worked so hard to express from a bottle, cooed in her hand
embroidered bassinet, and swayed the night away with her mother and father. When daughters become mothers, mothers
become grandmothers. The simple epiphany made Taylor smile. She looked into
her fiancés big brown eyes and over at Drema “I Don’t Get to Go” Miller
snuggled in his arms. Taylor was right; this was the best night of her life.
