Cath stared at the box in her hands. She couldn't believe it.
Well, maybe she could. She knew better than to underestimate her mother.
"Hey, do you think the black or the gr—" Mary Ann stopped dead in the doorway and raised an eyebrow at the pile of red velvet in Cath's lap. "What is that?"
Cath held up the dress wordlessly, and Mary Ann bit her lip. She hooked her hangers over the door handle and crossed her arms.
"I mean… it's not your style. But it does suit you." Cath stared at her, and Mary Ann shrugged. "Your hair is dark and your skin is light. Dark red makes both of those colors pop. It's a fact."
"But it's got to be at least two sizes too small!" Cath could see it already: her rounded belly straining the stiching, her thighs squeezed together and puddling together like melted ice cream. It made her palms sweat just thinking about it. "I can't go out in this!"
Mary Ann's eyebrows dipped down in a frown. "You haven't even tried it on yet. I think you're exaggerating." She strode over and checked the size on the tag. "It is your size, Cath. You don't have to wear it if you don't feel comfortable, obviously, but I think you should give it a shot." She pursed her lips. "Your mother sent this, didn't she?"
"How did you know," Cath deadpanned. She sighed and shooed Mary Ann out of the room, then she shimmied into the dress. "You're going to have to help me lace up the back," she called, and Mary Ann poked her head in.
"What do you think?" she asked diplomatically as she threaded the ties through the corset-style backing. Cath leaned over to look in the mirror, and Mary Ann yanked on the strings.
"Wait! Let me finish this first before you judge." Cath felt the fabric shift, and then Mary Ann tapped her shoulder. "Alright, now you can look."
Cath chewed her lip and touched the folds of the glittering fabric. It was undeniably attractive: glamourous and a little wild without making her uncomfortable. Her mother knew her way around clothing, that was for sure.
"I… like it," she admitted slowly. A small smile tugged at her lips. "A lot, actually." She smoothed the fabric over her stomach. "You don't think it's too tight, is it?"
With her usual candor, Mary Ann replied, "Maybe a little. But it works." She tugged at the hem of her own sedate black dress just as the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," she offered quickly as a panicked expression flashed across Cath's features.
"Dress, check, lipstick, check, hair—" she frowned and patted her hair. Had she pinned it? The pin poked her palm; that answered that question. "And shoes! Done!"
There was a man she didn't recognize standing in the kitchen. Her kitchen. Inspecting her favorite marble rolling pin!
"Hi, I'm Cath," she said loudly, hoping he would put the rolling down. Gently. Hopefully gently.
The rolling pin thunked against the counter, and Cath flinched.
"Jack."
Cath sized him up: dark jeans, untucked black button-up, black Converse, dark hair tousled in a way that might be intentional but could also simply be the result of a misplaced hairbrush. He was looking at her too, but there was something strange in his gaze. Flat, as though he wasn't quite looking at her, but through her. It made the back of her neck prickle.
Cath pasted on a smile. "So how do you know my mother?"
"Our moms are friends." He ran a finger over her rolling pin again, and Cath suppressed the urge to whack him with it. Assaulting your date with a rolling pin is most definitely wrong. Her mother would disapprove. Vehemently. "We hung out a couple times when we were kids. Don't you remember?"
Cath shook her head slowly. She rarely remembered the playdates her mother had organized for her, though she could recall the delicacies they'd served in honor of the occasion. Her mother never scolded her in front of guests, so she could eat all the treats she wanted: madeleines dipped in chocolate and grated orange zest, tiny raspberry tartlets, white chocolate truffles… Her mouth watered just thinking about it.
The trill of the doorbell interrupted her reverie. "Coming!" Mary Ann called, and Jack squinted at the door.
"Is someone else coming?"
"We're going on a double date." Cath gave him her sweetest smile. "I hope you don't mind."
His grunt made it crystal clear that he did, in fact, mind, but that didn't bother Cath one bit. In fact, it was just icing on the cake. After all, tonight was for Cath and Mary Ann; no distractions.
The metro was crowded; everyone in the city was ready to party on a Friday night, it seemed. The crush crammed the four of them close together like strawberries in jam, and Mary Ann clutched Cath's arm.
"I'd hate to get separated," she half-shouted over the din of the closing doors. "There's at least a hundred people in here!"
"You'll be fine," Jack said deprecatingly. "You're skinny enough to squeeze in."
Cath's jaw dropped. "Don't you know it's rude to comment on someone's size? Especially if this is your first time meeting them?"
Jack cocked his head at her, as though he didn't quite understand. "It's not like I said she was fat. And I didn't say anything about you."
A headache began to press against Cath's temples; suddenly the prospect of an entire evening spent in Jack's company seemed unbearable. What was her mother thinking? Usually the men she picked out had better manners, at least. Mary Ann squeezed her shoulder sympathetically, and Cath sighed. At least they were together.
They stayed silent as the metro car swayed and jostled. Mary Ann's date hadn't looked up from her phone yet, and Cath leaned over to smile at her.
"What did you say your name was again?" she asked cheerily.
The girl's eyes flicked up, then back down again. Her eyeliner was smudged, but Cath thought that might be intentional. Better not to point it out, she decided. It looked a little like melted dark chocolate, and Cath wondered if a smudged chocolate decoration would look stylish or simply silly. Perhaps on a butter cookie..
"Abigail," she muttered. "I'm a friend from work. Don't get excited."
Cath opened her mouth, then closed it again. "Ah."
Mary Ann leaned forward to join the conversation. "That's like telling a kangaroo not to jump. Being excited is just what Cath does." She grinned at her friend, then winked. "I know you were excited about this date."
Cath smothered a giggle. She didn't want to be rude, but at the same time, she had a feeling Jack didn't notice the subtle jab. Anyway, she was excited… Just not for the date part.
The metro doors whooshed open and they poured out like horchata over ice. Mm. I need to get a recipe for that, Cath reminded herself. Mary Ann, ever the picky eater, had argued that watery milk did not sound appealing to her, but Cath had a feeling she could convince her.
They spilled out onto the steps to the old-fashioned little door of the theatre. The street was bright with quaint little lights and gas lanterns, and gentle music lilted from a restaurant a few doors down.
"This is cute," Cath told Mary Ann, who was unclipping the candy-striped alligator clip from their tickets. Mary Ann nodded, only half-listening, as she double-checked the time and the seats.
"We should head in now," she advised. "The show starts in a couple minutes."
The woman at the ticket counter ripped their stubs and handed them back. "Enjoy the show!" she called after them, and Cath beamed at Mary Ann.
"This is going to be so fun," she whispered to her friend, squeezing her hand as the lights dimmed, and a deep voice drowned out anything Mary Ann whispered in reply.
"Welcome, everyone, to the The Court Theatre. Prepare to lose your hearts."