I didn’t know then what she meant. I found out at the wedding.
I wish to God she’d never had the idea. And at the same time — I’m getting ahead of myself.
We found the dress at a little shop downtown. It was a soft lavender, Mia’s favorite color, with a full skirt that draped down over her lap and legs and a little sparkle at the collar. When she saw herself in the mirror in that dress, sitting in her chair, she went very still.
And then, quietly, she said, “I look nice.”
Not “I look broken.” Not “everyone’s going to stare.”
“I look nice.”
I turned away so she wouldn’t see me crying. First time in a long time it was the good kind.
I need to tell you about my sister Donna now, because she’s the villain of this story and I won’t pretend otherwise, though I’ll try to be fair.
