“May, it’s my wedding dress. It’s not like I’m going to need it again.”
“You can’t take it back?”
Allie shook her head. “I wouldn’t anyway. It’s a great dress. And now we’re going to make it pink, and I’m going to wear it and get fabulously drunk.”
“We don’t even have time to dry it.”
“If it won’t dry on that shelf thingy in the dryer, we can use towels and the hair dryer. It’ll be fine.”
“It’ll be damp and chemical-smelling.”
“So what? I’m the bride. No one will be able to say a thing.”
“I don’t know.”
Allie gripped her shoulders and leaned in to lock eyes with May. “Please. Big sister. I’m having a personal crisis here. Help me dye my cry for help.”
Allie grinned, and May had to grin back.
“Okay.” She pushed the shower curtain aside, flipped the drain closed, and started running water into the tub.
“Get the hair guard out, or it’ll turn pink.” Allie leaned past her to grab it, then straightened and went round-eyed staring at May’s chest. “Where did you get that shirt?”
“I had it at the back of my closet.”
“For how long?”
May sucked in her cheeks as she considered the question. The wine she’d swallowed was already humming its way into her bloodstream, making the very act of sucking in her cheeks more interesting than it ought to have been.
Had she eaten lunch? Possibly not.
She should correct that mistake.
“We need to order a pizza,” she said.
“You order it. I’m going to dump Rit in your tub.”
“This is such a bad idea.”
May finished her wine before she left the room. She ordered her and Allie’s favorite pizza on the kitchen phone and came back just as Allie was dumping the dye granules directly into the water.
“Five years ago,” she said.
“Five years ago what?”
“I bought this top five years ago.”
“I’ve never seen you wear it.”
“That’s because I’ve never worn it. You know you’re supposed to dissolve those in a measuring cup first?”
Allie shrugged away this concern and started swirling dye powder with her fingers. “It looks good on you.”
May didn’t glance at the mirror this time. “I know.”
In five years, she’d tried it on three or four times, but every time, she’d talked herself out of wearing it. Too skimpy. Too trashy. Too brazen for a girl like her.
She knew better now. She’d had her heart trounced, but her confidence remained, stubbornly refusing to be crushed. It was a relief to find she could keep on bending under the weight of so much difficulty, so much pain, and still not break.