Second Chance (56 page)

I turn to
Clair
an
d decide to get right to point
.
We’ve known each other almost an hour
.
It’s time to open
up
about my future plans with her son
.

“
Clair
, there’s something you should know.”  She turns to me and raises her eyebrows
.
“I’m going to marry your son someday,” I tell her
.
She stares back at me and she doesn’t look surprised
.
More amused
.
She
looks out on the pitcher
’
s mound
, where Gray’s checkin
g a first base player
over his shoulder
before he winds up for a
throw
.

“Have you discussed this plan with Gray?” she asks
.
I
shake my head and
tell her the timing isn’t righ
t.

“I just want you to know my inte
ntions,
”
I say.

We’re quiet for a few seconds and
I try to guess her thoughts
:
Why do you want to marry my son
?
Do you want a big wedding
?
Who are you
,
exactly
?
I notice her staring at my
jean
jacket with concern
.

“
Well, if you’re going to be my
daughter-
in
-
law, maybe you and I should go shopping tomorrow.
”

I
take a bite of my hotdog and the
ketchup spills over the bun
.
“Shopping?
”
I ask
,
like
we
’re not speaking the same
language
.

She nods
.
“Do you know how to get to the mall?”

“Oh, is there a mall here?” I ask with my mouth half
-
full
.

She laughs
.
“You don’t know?” she asks with unbelieving surprise
.

We both turn to cheer when Gray strikes out two batters in a row to close out the sixth inning
.
I decide watching Gray play baseball is becoming my favorite pastime
.
Life d
oesn’t get much better than hot
dogs and sunshine and gazing out at a green field full of tan
, athletic
guys in tight pants
.

“
So, w
hat do you think?” she asks.

I
cough
because, really, I’m thinking about her son’s ass
.
 

“About what?
”
I ask.

“
Tomorrow
?” she says
.
“Shopping.”

I look in her eyes and they’re hopeful and beaming and they’re eyes that I love more than the world
.
I tell her I’ll compromise and
go
shopping
but only
if we can stick to local spots, no malls
.
I explain to
Clair
that I try to
be
open-m
inded in life, but I have
a
n aversion to the mall
.
She asks why and I explain
that
m
aybe
in a past life, I was robbed or kidnapped in
one because they freak me out
.

“
The people inside all look pale and unhealthy and shuffle around like zombies
,” I tell her
.
“
T
hey
s
tar
e
straight ahead, unblinking, like they’re
waiting for the world
to end
.
”
  I start to ramble because she’s smiling
and just like Gray’s smile, it fires me up
.

“The kiosk workers are terrifying,” I say
.
“They stand in front of their booths like Nazis and
insist
you
r life won’t be complete unless you own
nail buffers, cuticle cutters, peppermint foot cream, clip-on hairpieces,
or those
neck rest
s
filled with rice
.
Although I have to admit
,” I say, “
I do enjoy the glazed nuts that come in those cone-shaped cups
.
That booth isn’t so bad.”

Clair
shakes her head
.
“Amanda would have loved you,” she tells me
.

***

      
The next morning,
Clair
picks me up and
takes me to
an outdoor shopping area in

Uptown
.
While we drive, she informs me
that
the boys are golfing
.
She says today is all about me
.
I wait for the words
.

      
“
I’m going to give you a makeover,
” she says with a wide smile
.
I manage a weak
grin
in return
.
My greatest fear
for
the day is
confirmed
.
She’s on a mission to turn me into her fashion project
,
a
goal
many people have
made
and
failed
miserably
.
I’m about to refuse, but her perfect smile, Gray’s smile, makes me change my mind
.
I realize that this day really isn’t about me
.
It’s about her.

She
pulls me into the first clothing store we pass and
practically forces me into a yellow sundress
.
Clair
insists if she had my body when she was
my age
, she would flaunt it, not hide it
.

“But I’m not trying to hide it,” I explain
outside the dressing room
.
“I just want to be comfortable.”

Clair
ushers me inside the dressing room and I throw the sundress over my head
.
I walk out
with a half
-
cocked grin
on my face
because I
’m too tall to wear a sundress
.
I
look
like a dandelion
.

“I don’t think so,” I say.

Clair
adjusts the
s
traps and tells me to relax
my shoulders
because I’m standing stiff and rigid and it doesn’t do much for the look
.
T
he
retail worker, who is about
Clair
’s age,
swears
the dress is made for me
.
I raise my eyebrows.

“No dress was made for me,” I assure them as I check out my reflection in three full length mirrors
.
Dresses are made for women with curves
.

Clair
tells me it’s perfect
.
“Dylan, for such a gorgeous girl you need to show off your figure
.
Believe me, Gray will love it.”

I perk up at this
.
These are the words that
win me over
.
Gray will love it
.

Clair
insists on buying the yellow sundress for me and I feel guilty that she’s paying $50 for something that feels like I’m wearing a drafty bed sheet
.
She tells me she’ll only buy it if I promise to wear it the rest of the day
.
I
agree
on buying a pair
of
heeled
sandals
to go with it
.