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“I have some single girlfriends I could introduce you to,” she laughs.
“I’ll keep you in mind.”
“Come on. Look. I’ll try on a dress, too.” She pulls down a slinky pale pink gown. “I’ll be your bridesmaid.”
“I love pink. That’s perfect.”
We giggle like fifth grade girls at a sleepover while we change into gowns that probably cost more than my first car—had I bought the tiny Honda new and not ten years used from Dan the Car Deal Man back in my shady hometown used car dealership.
I emerge from the dressing room in a gauzy cloud of couture and false hopes. But boy, is it fun! I sashay out into the ring of mirrors, turning and getting a glance at every angle.
Kate comes out looking lovely in her pink gown. She rushes over to me, eyeing the dress. “Oh, my god, I’m going to cry!”
“You look so good in that shade of pink.”
“Not as good as you look in white,” she says with a smile. “Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.” Smoothing her hands over the tops of her thighs, she breathes, “This fabric is unbelievable.”
There’s a faint beeping sound coming from the front of the store. “What’s that?” I ask.
As it gets louder, Kate’s eyes widen.
Finally, she shouts, “Oh, no! The candles! They may have set off the fire alarm. I’d better go blow them out.”
By now, the sound is blaring. I rush behind her to help. She’s already blown out all the candles by the time I reach the front desk. But we’re too late to stop the damage from happening.
The sprinklers in the ceiling above the shelf where she had the candles lit are now streaming down with water.
“The dresses! They can’t even be dry cleaned, much less get stuck in a downpour. We cannot get these wet. Run! Outside… now!”
We rush outside, tumbling onto the sidewalk in a fit of giggles and fear that we’ve damaged the dresses we had no right trying on in the first place.
We stand there, inspecting one another. Totally dry. “Thank goodness. But what do we do about the sprinklers?”
She grabs my hand. “Come with me around the back. They showed me the main water valve when I first started work. We need to go shut it off.”
Hand in hand, we run off to stop the sprinklers from damaging more inventory.
We get the water turned off, then run back into the store, changing, and carefully hanging the dresses back up. She flips the Open sign to Closed before we do our best to dry up as much water as we can with stacks of blue and orange SFERRA Sorrento beach towels while we wait for the cleaning service to show up.
“You don’t have to help,” she says for the thirtieth time, pressing the towel into the carpet under her bare feet. “This was my fault.”
“I’m so happy to help. Really.” I crawl across the floor on hands and knees, mopping. “You’ve been so nice. I kinda needed a friend.”
“God. Me, too. Obviously. I mean, look at my life!” We laugh and I hand her a dry towel to aid her in the water on the walls she’s now tackling.
“Wait.” A cramp tightens in my belly, making me do a cat yoga pose on the floor where I’m still on my hands and knees. “Is there a weird smell in here?”
“You mean extinguished candles and wet carpet?”
“Yeah.” I nod, the scent of essential oils and dampness making another wave of cramps tighten my belly. “Oh, no. Oh. No.”
I see it in my mind’s eye before it even happens. The sickness comes up from my belly, a violent projectile of this morning’s Pop-Tart and orange juice flying all over the casual black work pants of my new friend, Kate.
I’m instantly filled with disgust and embarrassment. I can’t believe that just happened. I hold the towel to my lips, tears pouring down my face. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“No problem. Don’t worry.” She quickly steps out of her pants, folding them carefully to hold in the semi-digested Pop-Tarts. “It’s okay. It’s okay. We’ve got this.” Now wearing her casual sweater, nametag, and her underwear, a black thong, she rushes over to me, butt cheeks hanging out, and kneels beside me, wrapping a clean towel around my shoulders.
“Well. This is a mess.” I wipe the tears from my face.
