"What about this?"
Nora Walker pulled a frilly pink frock off the rack and held it up for her daughters' approval. Sarah and Kitty, fourteen and thirteen respectively, merely stared back at her incredulously. They exchanged disinterested glances.
"Yeah, Mom. That'd be great. You know, if we were old like you," Sarah replied.
Nora frowned and reluctantly returned the dress to its rightful place on the rack. "I'm thirty-three. That's hardly ancient."
"You'll be thirty-four in two weeks!" Kitty added with a devious grin.
"Oh, so, what, thirty-four is the cut-off age between hip and ancient?" Nora questioned.
"Pretty much."
The three Walker women had spent the better part of this particular Sunday afternoon at the mall shopping for the Winter Ball at the local junior high school and it felt to Nora as if the girls had tried on every single dress they came across. By the time five o'clock rolled around, Nora had grown weary of the endeavor , despite her love for shopping.
"Okay, time to crack down. If you don't find anything in the next fifteen minutes, you're wearing your Fall Festival dresses."
Sarah and Kitty whined and simultaneously gave their mother the death glare.
"You're the worst mother ever," Kitty complained.
"Seriously. Of all time," Sarah agreed.
"I know, I know," Nora replied, unaffected. "And you can both spend the entire car ride home elaborating on my incompetance as a mother, but as of now, you're down to fourteen minutes, so I'd get a move on if I were you."
Nora leaned against the wall and watched as her daughters scurried off in different directions, in search of the perfect dress. She couldn't help but think that being a teenager was so much simpler in the '60s. Until, of course, the Beatles crossed the Atlantic. That's when the hormones kicked in.
"Mom!"
Kitty's excited voice tore her out of her reverie. She snapped into action and traveled toward the voice. Kitty was standing next to a rack in the corner holding up a tiny little turquoise cocktail dress. Nora raised an eyebrow.
"That?"
"What do you think?" Kitty asked, giddily.
"That's not a dress, it's a bra!"
"Mom! This is it. It's the perfect Winter Ball dress."
"Well, good, I hope someone else gets good use out of it because you won't be wearing it," Nora answered.
"Mom, I'm not a baby!"
Nora rolled her eyes.
"We're back to this again?"
"Just because you're old and don't remember what it was like to be a teenager doesn't mean I have to be punished for your ignorance."
"Ooh. Ouch." Nora winced. "In any case, you're not getting that dress so put it back." Kitty just stared at her. "Go on."
"Dad would let me get it."
There it was. A thirteen-year-old's secret weapon- the absent parent card.
"He most certainly would not," Nora countered."He'd rather eat Grandma's meatloaf than allow his little girl to go off gallovanting like a trollop in that...thing. And I am not old!"
At the moment, Sarah ran over holding a long, white, spaghetti strap dress.
"Now that is a dress."
"So I can get it?" Sarah asked nervously.
"Yes, you can get it."
"Yes!"
Kitty's jaw dropped.
"Sarah can get what she wants but I can't get what I want?"
"Sarah doesn't want to look like she's working a corner in West Hollywood."
"God, this is so unfair!"
Nora glanced down at her watch.
"Seven minutes or you'll be rocking the repeats."
Kitty pursed her lips and glared at her mother, shooting daggars in her direction.
"Oh, I know, it's so tough being in seventh grade with a mother who won't let you dress like Bo Derek. How awful for you."
Kitty rolled her eyes and turned her back to Nora, flipping through the rack once more. Nora turned to her oldest daughter.
"Do you think I'm old?"
Sarah shrugged. "Well. Natalie Brewster's mom is forty-three."
"Ha! I have ten years on Natalie Brewster's mom. What do you think of that?"
"Um, pretty cool, Mom," Sarah replied unenthusiastically.
"Pretty cool, yes. That's right."
Kitty turned around, frowning, and held out a conservative green dress she was clearly uninterested in.
"Very nice," Nora said agreeably.
"Fine. Can we go now?"
"After five hours in this nightmare, yes, we can."
Kevin Walker, then nine years old, sat on the floor and stared up at his father and his uncle as they suddenly began shouting obscenities at the television. He looked at them, then back at the television, and at them once more and could not see the connection. Within a matter of seconds, the obscenities turned into outbursts of joy and hugging. His eleven-year-old brother, Tommy, began jumping up and down. Kevin sat still on the floor, regarding them all indifferently. Once the fanfare died down, Kevin ventured to speak.
"Isn't there anything else on?" Kevin asked, pouting.
"It's the big game!" William responded matter-of-factly.
"Yeah, but...isn't there anything else?"
"Kev, it's the 49ers versus the Cowboys. This is the biggest game of the season, buddy."
"But it's boring!" Kevin whined. "Nothing happens."
William shook his head in disbelief. "Come on up here and let me teach you a little something about football appreciation."
Kevin sighed and crawled up onto the couch beside his father.
"Football...is about strategy," William began.
"It's about people throwing a ball around and then jumping on top of each other."
Before William could respond, Tommy threw a Nerf football in the air and then tackled himself, falling down on the floor. Both Saul and William shook their heads, then readjusted their attention elsewhere.
"Football's stupid," Kevin complained.
"Well, it's...it's an acquired taste," William said.
"What does that mean?"
"It means you'll like it eventually."
Kevin shook his head.
"I don't think so."
"You know, Kevin, I never liked football much as a kid either," Saul interjected. "Maybe that's because I wasn't allowed to watch it."
"Who wouldn't let you watch it?" Kevin asked.
"Your mother."
William laughed. "Your little baby sister kept you from watching football? Saul, that's pathetic."
"She was intimidating!"
"She's six years younger than you!"
"Yeah, well, she used to paint my toenails while I was sleeping whenever she wanted revenge!"
"That sounds like Nora," William chuckled.
"She's ruthless when she doesn't get her way."
"Don't I know it."
When he noticed that his father was finally at a loss explaining the merits of football to him, Kevin climbed off the couch and was immediately tackled by his brother.
"Touchdown!" Saul and William exclaimed simultaneously.
Kevin groaned and pushed Tommy off of him. "I hate this game."
All heads turned when the front door burst open the Walker women made their auspicious entrance into the house. Kevin, thoroughly delighted and relieved, ran over to meet them. William took one look at the amount of bags his favorite women were carrying and sighed.
"How many credit cards did you max out?"
"Oh, three or four," Nora said, smiling sweetly.
"Well, that's better than the last time."
Nora walked over and gave him a quick kiss. "Hi."
He grinned back. "Hi."
Then she sprung into action and lunged to catch the football Tommy had just thrown in the direction of her Steuben glass pitcher. Everything stopped for a moment, as Tommy anticipated his mother's potential reaction. Instead, William and Saul began applauding and whistling and as a result, Nora merely bowed and tossed the ball back to her son.
"Watch it, kid, or I'm benching you next game."
Tommy nodded obediently.
"So what did we come up with, ladies?" William asked his daughters.
"Well, Mom wouldn't let Kitty get this hooker dress she wanted and..."
"Sarah Emily Walker!"
"What?"
"In this house, we say prostitute."
Nora pursed her lips to deter her laughter at her husband's seriousness. Sarah rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, okay. Anyway, so I got this completely gorgeous white dress and Kitty got some queer green thing."
Kitty elbowed her sister. "Jerk."
"I heard that, Katherine Ann," Nora admonished sternly.
Kitty's eyes widened at the use of her full name.
"Mom!"
"What? There's no one in this room who doesn't already know what your name is, KitKat."
"Mom!"
Nora sighed and sat down on the arm of the couch beside her husband. "I can't win with these girls. Next time you're taking them shopping and I get to stay home and watch the game with my boys."
"We'll see about that," William answered. He put his arm around her and pulled her down onto the couch and, specifically, onto his lap.
"Okay, this is the part where I go upstairs," Sarah noted, grabbing her bags and running up the stairs. Kitty followed suit.
Saul jumped up off the couch. "I'm gonna go order that pizza. Tommy, Kevin, why don't you come help me pick out the toppings?"
Tommy and Kevin shrugged and followed their uncle into the kitchen, leaving their parents alone.
"So," Nora sighed. "How were the boys?"
"How they usually are," William said.
"Just as I suspected."
"The girls were a chore I see."
"Little bit. And to think they've just begun the whole teenage thing. In three years, we'll be plucking out gray hairs."
"If we have any hair left."
"Oh, that's attractive, William."
"I thought you'd appreciate the image," he replied. "So. Tonight's the night."
She nodded. "Tonight's the night."
"How do you think they're gonna take it?"
"I don't know. But I doubt any of them will react the same way."
"Kitty will probably throw a tantrum," William assumed.
"Tommy will be in denial."
"Sarah will be...grossed out, if that's the term they're using these days."
"And Kevin will just be confused."
"Looks like we have it pretty well planned out then," William said.
"Which of course is why none of it will go as planned."
"Of course."
"You know, the girls said I was old today."
"They didn't!" William responded with mock astonishment.
"They did!" She exclaimed. "Oh. You're mocking me."
"Just a little bit."
"I'm thirty-three, William."
"I know you're thirty-three, dear."
"Thirty-three is not old."
"Thirty-three is absolutely not old."
"You're placating me now."
"Yes, I am." He grinned.
"Look who's talking, old man."
"Hey!"
"You're forty-four. If I'm old, you're older."
"Keen observation."
"I'm not going to win this argument, am I?"
"I'm sorry, what are we arguing about again?" William questioned.
"We're arguing about...wow. Actually, I don't know."
"That's what I thought."
To be continued...