S-Project

This is my submission for the S-Project. As always, comments and critique are welcome.

Lily had never been comfortable in dresses. She was more of a blue-jeans girl. Maybe shorts occasionally when the weather called for it. Capris weren’t unheard of either. She’d even been seen in culottes during the unfortunate fashion disaster of 1983. But mostly, she wore blue jeans.

She twirled around letting the skirt swirl around her legs. It was an unfamiliar feeling. “What do you think, Lester?”

Lester blinked once and let out a throaty purr. Lily laughed and gathered the chubby cat into her arms. “Sexy, eh?” she asked, scratching the Siamese under his chin. He submitted to her attentions for a few moments before squiggling out of her arms and back onto the bed.

She sighed and inspected herself again in her mother’s antique cheval mirror. The dress wasn’t too bad. Could have been worse, she thought. She could be wearing stockings and sandals too. Her mother had, in fact, laid them out for her on the bed next to the blue dress, but somehow between then and now, they’d managed to get snagged on something and were, unfortunately, beyond repair. Her mother had tried. She’d raced into the bedroom with a bottle of clear nail polish, but even her highly efficient and motivated mother couldn’t undo the damage to the silk stockings.

“I have no idea how these things always happen to you, Lily,” said her mother impatiently. “I swear those stockings were in perfect condition when I laid them out. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you snagged them on purpose.” She glared at Lily.

“Mom, please. Why would I destroy a perfectly good pair of silk stockings?” replied Lily. “I have respect for silk stockings,” she insisted. The half-smile that Lily couldn’t quite hide didn’t add much verisimilitude to her story.

Her mother sighed. Her mother’s sighs were a thing to behold. She made quite a production out them, shrugging her shoulders and rolling her eyes. They could mean any number of things, but mostly heralded annoyed exasperation most often directed at Lily. Usually they were followed with what her mother liked to call “motherly admonitions.” Her father called it for what it was-nagging. “Lily, don’t humor me. I don’t need to be humored quite yet. I have a few more years before I’m too old to notice that my children are humoring me.”

“I wasn’t humoring you, Mom,” Lily protested. “Much.” Out came the half-grin. Lily always had an inconvenient sense of humor, which her mother didn’t quite share. Her mother sighed again and left the room.

Lily slumped into her mother’s chair and Lester leapt gracefully from the bed to Lily’s lap. “You’re getting hair all over my dress. I’m going to be in even more trouble,” she whispered. In response, Lester curled up and nested his claws lightly in her lap.

“Why am I doing this, Lester? Why did I agree to let my mother set me up on a date? Why did I agree to wear a dress on the date? What’s wrong with me? Any other daughter with half an ounce of self-respect would have flat-out refused. I must be getting soft in my old age.” Lester’s purr deepened. “Are you even listening to me, you big selfish cat?” Lily asked him, scratching behind his ear.

Truthfully, Lilly knew exactly why she’d allowed herself to be talked into a blind date with the son of her mother’s bridge partner. She’d had a serious dating dry spell and her mother hit her up at the exact psychological moment of weakness. Todd was a great guy, her mother said. He was a history teacher at a local high school and as upstanding and decent a guy as there ever was. Plus he was kind to children and small animals. At the time, Lily thought it couldn’t hurt to try. At worst, he’d be a complete bore and she’d ditch him early. At best—well, there was a possibility he was as great as her mother insisted he was. That was a week ago. Just now she was convinced he was only slightly preferable to Cletus the slack-jawed yokel.

“We need a plan,” she said. “An escape plan. What’s my plan? What should I do if he turns out to be extra creepy?” Lester closed his eyes. Clearly, he was only interested in a warm lap and scratches on his head.

“Maybe I’m just being pessimistic,” she said. “Maybe he’ll be a great guy. Maybe he’ll love women who prefer blue jeans. And I’ll give him the wrong impression because I’m wearing a dress. And he’ll be polite and all because he’s a really great guy, but he’ll think I’m too high maintenance because I wear dresses and act all girly. Lester, what if he doesn’t like me?” The doorbell rang and Lily started, disturbing the cat. He glared up at her.

“Lily!” her mother called. “Todd is here!”

“Great,” muttered Lily under her breath. “I’m sorry, Lester, but I’m afraid I have to go.” She picked the protesting cat up and placed him gently on the bed.

She slipped on a pair of keds and grabbed her purse. “Okay, Lester, I’m out of here.” She reached over and scratched him on his chin. “And, hey,” she whispered, “thanks for taking care of the stockings. You’re a good cat.”