PRESENT TENSE
Chapter Forty-Seven
Friday, September 5, 2003
On Friday night, Rose and Helga drove to
Southland to select patterns and fabric for Rose’s wedding gown and Helga’s
matron-of-honor dress. Rose had looked at some wedding gowns in a shop, but
after seeing the prices, she had decided that a homemade dress was more within
her budget. Besides that, she could design a homemade dress to suit herself and
her tastes, rather than what some designer thought a bride should look like.
She wasn’t an expert seamstress—Helga would have to help her with her
project—but she did know how to sew, courtesy of long-ago summers spent with
her grandmother in Philadelphia.
They went to one of Helga’s favorite stores,
Joann’s Crafts and Fabrics. It sold all types of fabric, patterns, notions, and
other sewing things. Helga had bought the materials for her own wedding gown
and the bridesmaids’ gowns there. Rose went directly to the pattern table,
while Helga, who already had a pattern she wanted to use, looked at bolts of
fabric. Rose thumbed through the catalogs, looking at the wedding dresses and
formal gowns, but not finding anything that really suited her. On impulse, she
turned to the costume section of the Simplicity catalog, knowing that some of
the historical costumes might make good wedding gowns.
Halfway through the costume section, she
found what she wanted—a long chiffon dress with a satin underskirt and sash.
The chiffon sat in several layers, giving the dress a floating look. Rose got a
copy of the pattern from the Simplicity drawer and went to show it to Helga.
Helga looked at it skeptically. “Rose, that’s
a costume.”
“So? It’s beautiful. This is the dress I want
to make.”
“Have you ever worked with chiffon? It’s very
unforgiving. You can’t easily hide mistakes.”
“I can learn. Besides, you know what you’re
doing.”
“I have enough to do. You can make your own
dress.”
“I’m not asking you to make it. Just to help
me.” Rose gave her pleading, puppy-dog look.
Helga put her hands up in defeat. “Okay, okay.
I’ll help you make that dress. Let’s find the fabric.”
Rose did not object as Helga picked out a
bolt of white chiffon, but when she reached for white satin for the underskirt
and sash, she objected.
“I’d rather have a blue underskirt and sash,
actually.”
“It’s traditional for a bride to wear white,
at least at her first wedding.”
“I’m only going to have one wedding if I have
anything to say about it, and I want blue.”
“White symbolizes purity—”
“Which doesn’t apply to me.” Rose’s voice was
terse. “I want blue. It will look better.” Her voice was growing loud, and
several people turned to look at her.
“Rose, calm down. I was just making a
suggestion.”
“Well, don’t.” Rose looked at Helga crossly,
then picked out a bolt of deep blue satin. “This will do.”
Helga sighed. “Okay. It’s your dress. What
kind of trim do you want?”
After Rose had selected a white brocade for
the bodice of the dress and a pearl, lace, and ribbon trim, they went to the
counter to have their selections measured and cut. Once that was done, they
returned to the pattern table to select a veil.
Rose still had the veil that had been made to
go with her first wedding dress, but she didn’t want to wear it. It wouldn’t
have matched, and she didn’t want to be reminded of her engagement to Cal. She
flipped the pages of the catalogues, looking at pictures of veils and hats,
before coming to a decision.
“I don’t want a veil.”
“Okay.” Helga shook her head. “You’ll have
less work, anyway. What are you going to do with your hair?”
Rose considered it for a moment, then went
back to the shelves of trim. Tapping her chin thoughtfully, she selected a roll
of pearl trim, then went to the silk flower section and picked out some deep
blue roses.
“Yes. That’ll be good,” she told Helga.
“What will? What are you doing?”
“I’m going to sew these flowers onto the
beads to make a hair ornament, and then braid the rest of the trim into my
hair. It’ll be a perfect match,” she added, looking at the color of the satin
and the rose brocade pattern for the bodice.
Helga visualized this, then smiled. “I think
it will suit you.”
“Do you think Jack will like it?”
“Undoubtedly.”
They paid for their purchases and left the
store, going out into the dimly lit parking lot. The nights were beginning to
grow cool again. Rose shivered slightly as she got into the car.
Handing Helga her bag, she turned on the
ignition and then turned to her friend.
“I’m sorry I made such a fuss about the color
of the dress in there. I was rude.”
“Why does that bother you so much? The purity
issue, I mean. This is the twenty-first century. No one’s going to say anything
if you’re not a virgin on your wedding day—if anyone even knows.”
Rose shrugged. “I just have some issues with
it is all.”
“Anything you want to talk about?”
Rose shook her head. “No. It’s something I
have to work out for myself. Some things just bother me sometimes is all.”
Helga nodded. “I guess it’s kind of a private
thing for you.”
“Yes.” Rose realized, though, that the real
problem was not that she was not a virgin, or whether anyone knew it. The
mention of purity had brought back the specter of Cal’s angry face, his voice
shouting at her and his fists hitting her as he accused her of being a slut, of
being unfaithful. She sighed inwardly, wondering if the memories of Cal would
always distress her this much.