Fit to Be Tied

by Debby Mayne

  Now I’m starting to think he’s right, only I’d rather have a sewing room. Maybe one of these days I’ll get back to making things—hopefully for some grandchildren.

  I hear the sound of a truck coming up the road, so I walk over to the window to see if it’s George. It is. My pulse quickens, and that makes me smile. We’ve been married a while, but just the sight of him makes me happy. However, his truck . . . well, not so much.

  Shortly after his cousin went out and bought a tricked-out pickup truck, he decided he needed one too. Fortunately, his company bonus covered it, because I wasn’t about to let him get into our emergency fund—not with every appliance in our house living on borrowed time.

  “Hey, hon.”

  I turn around and see my husband’s smiling face, looking all proud as punch and pumped up. And suspicious. I narrow my eyes. “What have you gotten yourself into now?”

  He mocks hurt feelings as he walks toward me. “I bought you somethin’ pretty.”

  I frown back at the man whose idea of something pretty is a new skillet or something he spotted on the way back to the tool section at the hardware store. “You don’t need to be buying me stuff.”

  He reaches down deep into his pocket and pulls out a box that wouldn’t hold any pot, pan, or kitchen appliance. As he opens it, I lean over to see what it is.

  “One of my buddies down at the tire store said his wife is sellin’ this stuff, so I agreed to take a look at it. I thought this looked like you.”

  For the first time in years, I’m shocked by his insight. He’s right. Lying against the black velvet inside the box is a coral pendant necklace that will go perfectly with half my wardrobe. I open my mouth, but my voice catches in my throat, and nothing comes out.

  “Well?” He widens his eyes with a look of concern. “Do you like it?”

  “I love it.” The truth is, it’s so stinkin’ pretty that I can’t take my eyes off it.

  He looks at me from beneath eyebrows that are so bushy I can’t see his eyelashes. “Do you really, or are you just tellin’ me that so you won’t hurt my feelings?”

  “Can you put it on me?” Before he has a chance to say anything, I lift my hair off my neck and turn my back to him. Then I stand there and wait . . . and wait . . . until I realize he’s not going to do what I asked.

  When I turn back around, I see that he’s not even in the room anymore, but he’s left the box on the edge of the dresser. So I carefully lift the necklace off the velvet and put it on myself. And then I turn and look at my reflection in the mirror. This is about the prettiest thing George has ever given me since he got down on one knee and presented me with the engagement ring I’d shown him in the jewelry store window a week before he proposed.

  The sound of cupboard doors opening and slamming shut makes me cringe. George had always been a noisy man, which used to annoy me to no end until I found out he couldn’t hear himself. After he got his hearing aids, he asked me if the world had always been this loud.

  I decide it’s time he sees his gift on me, so I walk toward the kitchen. On the way, I make a mental note that it’s time for changing out some of the décor—something I used to do like clockwork when the girls still lived at home. Now I’m embarrassed by the fact that I still have my summer centerpiece collecting dust on the dining room table that hasn’t been used in months.

  George glances over his shoulder when I enter the kitchen, turns back to whatever he’s doing, and then does a double take. A wide grin covers his face. “That thing looks pretty on you.” He pauses as his smile fades a bit. “Do you like it?”

  I nod and move toward him. “I love it. Thank you.”

  He shrugs and gives me a shy look. “You deserve it for putting up with me all these years.”

  My heart does a little flutter, just like it’s done ever since I first met him. I close the gap between us as I open my arms and try to give him a hug. But his body stiffens, and he turns his back toward me. Something is definitely wrong with him.

  “What’s going on, Georgie?”

  “I don’t know. I have a hard time talkin’ about stuff like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “You’re awful wrapped up in everything, but . . .” His voice trails off as he looks away.

  I let go of George and walk over to the oven, open the door, and see how the casserole is doing. It’s starting to bubble, so I turn down the heat. The aroma of Italian seasonings wafts through the air. I’ve been working mighty hard on making sure this reunion goes well. Thank goodness Georgie isn’t a needy man and he understands why I haven’t been around as much.

  “Smells good, hon.”

  I turn around and face my husband, who is now shoving half a peanut butter sandwich into his mouth. “You’re gonna spoil your supper if you keep eating like that.”

  “Do you want me to starve to death?” He manages to get the rest of the sandwich into his mouth as he reaches for the glass of milk on the counter.

  “What’s going on with you, George? You haven’t been yourself lately.”

  He nods toward the necklace. “Are you talkin’ about my gift?”

  “No, I’m talking about how you’ve been acting for a few weeks.” The family gathering pops into my head. “I want whatever it is to stop before the reunion. They’ll know something’s up, and they’ll assume the worst.”

  He narrows his gaze. “That’s the problem, Sheila.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “Your family. That’s all you’ve been talking about lately—where we’re gonna have it, who’s gonna show up, who they’re gonna bring, what they’re cookin’—” He lifts his arms out to his sides and shrugs. “It’s like I don’t matter anymore.”

  Mama keeps telling me if I don’t grow some boobs soon, I might as well hang up any notion of finding a man, since the only way my chest will get bigger is if I put on some weight. She obviously hasn’t seen some of the flat-chested stars who have swarms of men around them. I mean, look at Taylor Swift. She’s left such a long trail of broken hearts that she’s got decades’ worth of song material she doesn’t hesitate to use. And there are others, like Cameron Diaz and Gwyneth Paltrow and Nicole Richie and Katie Holmes—way too many to count. It’s obvious that having a large chest isn’t the only thing that makes a woman. Besides, Daddy’s mama, Granny Marge, tells me that the size of a woman’s chest isn’t nearly as important as the size of her heart.

  I pull my sweater down, exposing the small bumps on my chest that don’t even need a bra for support, and try to imagine myself being better endowed. If it weren’t for Mama, I’d be fine with how I look, but she keeps planting those seeds of doubt in my head.

  My phone rings, so I let go of my sweater and pick it up to see who’s calling. It’s my cousin Shay, who always makes me smile. She and my other cousin, who just happens to be her sister-in-law, Puddin’, took over the La Chic Boutique a few months ago, and I’m happy to say she’s a whole lot more cheerful than she used to be. And she’s never been judgmental like some of my family. I know they love me, but I’m also aware they say things when they think I’m not listenin’.

  “Hey, Shay, what’s goin’ on?”

  She clears her throat. “We just got a new line of apparel, and I think it is perfect for your figure type.”

  I let out a laugh. “You mean my boyish figure?”

  “No,” she says. “I’m talking about your model-like figure. Seriously, Coralee, you need to stop beating yourself up. Most women I know would chop off their right arm if they could have your body.”

  “So what kind of clothes are we talking about?” In the back of my mind, I imagine hunting jackets and cargo shorts.

  “It’s a complete line with dresses, tops, pants, and even some accessories. If you can come in today, you’ll have a great selection, but I have a feeling this one will sell out fast.”

  The excitement in her voice is contagious, and I find my pulse quickening.

  I’ve kno
wn Shay all my life, and she’s always been low-key, so her aggressive salesmanship surprises me. “I can’t afford much right now. I just paid my tuition.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that, Coralee. You’ll get the family discount.”

  Well, I could use something new, since I haven’t bought myself anything in a long time, and being honest with myself, I know it’s more because I have a hard time deciding what to buy and what to leave behind than the money.

  I need clothes. And according to what I’ve heard from Mama and some of my cousins, the La Chic Boutique family discounts are pretty good.

  “Okay, I’ll try to come in later today, but I won’t have long. I have an afternoon class that I have to prepare for.”

  “What time is your class?”

  “2:30.”

  “That gives us plenty of time,” she says. “Tell you what. I’ll pull a few things that I think will look good on you, and I’ll set you up in a room as soon as you get here.”

  After we hang up, I turn back and take another long look at myself. I’m not exactly ugly, but I’m not one of those women who turns heads. In other words, I’m invisible.

  I let out a sigh of resignation and finish getting ready for the day. My sociology book beckons me, so I plop down and try to read the assigned chapter. But Shay’s voice rings in my head. Could she be right when she says I have a model-like body? I think about all the famous models and wonder if she’s right or just trying to make me feel better about myself. No one else has ever told me that, so I’m not putting too much credence in her words. But still.

  Okay, I can’t read any more of this sociology stuff. It’ll have to wait until I check out the boutique and see what Shay’s talking about with this new line.

  To my dismay, Puddin’ is standing at the counter when I walk in. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t have anything against my cousin’s wife, who will do anything for the family. It’s just that sometimes she tries too hard, and it makes me uncomfortable.

  “Hey, Coralee. Shay said she called you.” Puddin’ points toward the fitting rooms. “Why don’t you go on in there, and I’ll bring you the stuff she pulled for you to try on?”

  I walk back to the fitting room area and see that all four of the rooms are vacant. After stepping into the first one, I change my mind and go for the farthest one. It makes me feel claustrophobic, so I dart out of there and just stand in front of them staring at the curtains.

  Puddin’ grins at me as she walks straight into the second fitting room. “This one is the biggest and has the most hooks.” She places the clothes on the hooks and turns to face me. “Come on out when you change so I can see how everything looks on you.”

  I nod and dutifully walk into the fitting room. This one does feel bigger. As I pull my arms out of my sweater and lift it over my head, that crazy-sick feeling of dread fills my belly. Clothes have never looked good on me. They just hang there like they’re waiting for a real woman to come along and put them on.

  The first outfit doesn’t look like anything I ever would have picked out for myself. It’s purple, has a scoop neckline, and there’s no waist to it. It’s purple. I cringe and make a face. But Shay and Puddin’ went to the trouble to pull it from the rack, so I put it on and turn around to face myself in the mirror.

  My heart nearly stops as I see the transformation. Are you kidding me? Just a simple dress makes me look like that? I’ve never—

  “Coralee, are you okay?”

  I hear concern in Puddin’s voice. “Sure, I’m fine.”

  “Come on out when you have one of the dresses on. I want to see.”

  I suck in a deep breath, lift my chin, and push back the curtain. Then, as I walk out into the main part of the shop, I exhale and smile as Puddin’s face lights up.

  “My, my, my! Don’t you look pretty?” She comes around from behind the counter and walks toward me. “Turn around so I can get the overall effect.”

  I make a slow turn, and when I’m back to facing Puddin’, I see Shay coming in the front door. Her eyes widen and light up, and she smiles with her eyes crinkling and eyebrows arching.

  “Oh wow.” Shay takes a couple of steps closer. “I knew this would look good on you, but I had no idea just how good.” She clasps her hands together. “Coralee, if you wear this, every single woman in Pinewood will turn green with envy.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” I sneak a peek at myself in the three-way mirror off to the side.

  “Maybe not,” Puddin’ says, “but I would. In fact, I’m feelin’ sort of jealous right now, and I’m near ’bout old enough to be your mama.”

  “So how did the other things look?” Shay asks.

  Before I have a chance to respond, Puddin’ speaks up. “This is the first thing she’s tried on.” She makes a shooing motion with her hand. “Go change into the next outfit.”

  “I don’t exactly have much time.” Truth be told, I’m already feeling overwhelmed by how this dress is making me feel, and I’m not sure I can handle more trying on.

  Shay frowns at me as though she can read my mind. “You said your class isn’t until two thirty.”

  “I still have a chapter to read.”

  She purses her lips and shakes her head. “You have time to try on a couple more things and read your chapter if you just go on ahead and do it.”

  After a brief stare-down, I finally nod. “Okay.”

  The next outfit is a pair of slim-fit pants and a tunic with an uneven hemline. I’ve seen those on the covers of magazines, and I’m not so sure how I feel about them. But once again, I comply.

  The pants are super tight—something I’ve never had to deal with before, since I’ve always been so skinny. Then I yank the top off the hanger and pull it down over my head. This time, when I turn to look in the mirror, I’m surprised once again.

  “You doin’ okay in there, Coralee?”

  I hear annoyance in Puddin’s voice as she gets closer to the fitting room.

  “Yeah.” I pull back the curtain and step out.

  Puddin’s eyes widen, and then she turns to Shay. “Look at this girl, will ya?”

  Shay nods. “When these clothes first came in, you were the first person I thought of. The line is made for women like you, Coralee.”

  Now I’m confused. I turn back toward the three-way mirror and take in a different angle. “You don’t think I look goofy?”

  “Goofy?” Shay shakes her head and turns to Puddin’, who makes a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding face at me. “Anything but goofy. Coralee, you look stunning.” She pauses. “Runway gorgeous. In fact, next time we have a fashion show, I want you in it. Now go try on the rest of those outfits before you run out of time.”

  I’ve tried on a lot of clothes through the years, but I’ve never found so many things that fit. In fact, every single piece fits like it was made for me, so I will have to make a decision about what to buy and what to leave behind. The problem is, for the first time in my life, I want it all.

  After I put my own clothes back on, I walk out of the fitting room. Puddin’ shakes her head. “Such a shame you had to put those old things back on.” Her eyes quickly widen, and she lifts her fingertips to her mouth. “I am so sorry, Coralee. I didn’t mean—”

  “Sure she did,” Shay said. “She meant every word of it. Your old stuff does absolutely nothing for you. Why don’t you put those slim-fit pants and that tunic with the asymmetrical hem back on?”

  “But I have class, remember?”

  “Yes, and you can wear that outfit to class.”

  “But—”

  Shay holds up a hand. “I know, I know, you don’t get why you should waste such a cute outfit on a college class.” She grins. “But trust me, it’ll be worth it when you see the attention you get.”

  “I’m not so sure I want—”

  Puddin’ takes a turn at interrupting me as she gives me one of her mama-bear stares. “Just go put it on.”

  I’m obviously no match for these women, so I do as
they say. When I come back out, Shay darts into the fitting room and comes out with all the things I tried on. “If you have to leave, I can ring these up and call you with a total later.”

  “I need to know—”

  “We’ll work it out, Coralee,” Puddin’ says, tag-teaming her sister-in-law. “You don’t have a thing to worry about.” Her lips widen into a big ol’ honkin’ grin. “Just trust us.”

  I start for the door, but before I get there, Shay calls out to me. “Hold on a sec. I have one more thing for you.” Then she comes at me with a long necklace that has multiple chains and some dangly things in the front. I hold still as she puts it on me. She stands back and gives me a clipped nod. “Now you can go.”

  Since I have so little time left, I drive straight home and quickly read the chapter without worrying about comprehension. At least I’ve read it, which is more than I can say for most of the people in my class. Then I get back in my car and drive to the campus in Hattiesburg.

  As soon as I open the car door and get out, I realize I’m getting double takes from people who have never looked at me or even given me the time of day before. My mouth goes dry and my palms start to sweat as I make my way to the building where my class is.

  It feels good to know I look better than I ever have before, so I lift my chin and smile as I glance around. I walk inside and start for the chair in the far back corner, but one of the guys I’ve helped with his homework motions for me to sit next to him.

  What on earth is going on? I know I look better in this outfit than anything I’ve worn to class before, but this is way beyond an appreciative glance.

  Parents can be so lame. Mama says I have to go to the family reunion, but I absolutely will not go, even if they ground me for the next year. Last time I went, my cousin Julius dared me to go into the barn with him, saying I was nothin’ but a mama’s boy and a loser and a dork. I’ve always been a little shy around people my age, which is why my parents worry about me being immature.