“It’s nothing special. I look so drab and boring.”
“You’re going to school, not a gala ball,” he said.
“Now, Norton, a woman has to feel good about herself to do well in anything. Clothes are more important to us.”
“To you French, you mean,” Papa said, sipping his coffee. “She has nice enough clothes.”
“Nice but not what’s really in fashion,” I ventured.
He put his cup down and began to stir it again, which I knew was an indication that he was wrestling with two contradictory thoughts. While he did, he fixed his gaze on me with those searchlight eyes like some detective looking for a clue. Of course, I wondered the same thing I often did whenever I asked for something. Did Roxy ask for similar things? Did my asking set off new alarm bells in Papa? My heart was starting to thump.
“Fashion? Don’t become one of those clones, dressing like everyone else, thinking like everyone else,” Papa finally said.
“She’s not,” Mama said. “Look at the grades she gets and how well behaved she is. Her teachers have nothing but good things to say about her.” Mama looked at me and smiled. “I know exactly what she’s feeling. She’s a beautiful flower put in a pot and hidden in a closet. You can’t keep her a little girl forever, Norton.”
Papa grunted, which was something he would call a strategic retreat.
“I’ll take you shopping after school today,” Mama promised.
“I don’t want her wearing anything ridiculous,” Papa warned, “like those shirts that leave their middles naked.”
“You know they don’t let the girls look like that in her school, Norton.”
“They’re too lax in her school already. I’ve seen some of the girls there.”
“When?” Mama asked.
“Well, maybe not exactly there, but . . .”
“Norton, could you let this girl breathe, s’il vous plaît?”
He glanced at her and then at me.
“You’re the one who told me when we first met that if you hold a bird too tightly, you’ll crush its wings,” Mama added.
Papa stopped stirring his coffee. “Is that what you think happened?” he asked.
I knew exactly what he meant. He was referring to Roxy.
Mama blanched. I immediately regretted asking for anything.
She sucked in her breath and then stiffened. “We’re not going to make this into something more than it is,” she said. “It’s time your daughter had some new things to wear. I might buy myself a new dress, too,” she added. “You go to work, and let us enjoy being women, n’est-ce pas?”
Papa stared at her a moment. His eyes softened, and then he nodded. “Okay, okay. You’re right,” he said, holding up his hand.
He looked at me, and for a moment, I thought he wasn’t looking at me with any anger. He was looking at me with fear.
“I won’t get anything that would make you ashamed of me, Papa,” I said.
His eyes brightened, and he smiled. “I know. You’re my fille parfaite. Besides, what chance do I have with two French women?”
Mama rattled off some French expressions so quickly I couldn’t keep up, but Papa laughed.
The tension evaporated.
What would happen when I changed my hair and wore more makeup?
All day, I was excited about going shopping with Mama. When Chastity heard, she asked if she could come with us.