TWENTY-NINE
* * *
"Buffy?"
She blinked.
"Finished?"
Again.
Mirror. Her face there, so familiar. Pretty.
She nodded, closed the lipstick and slipped it into her small silk purse.
With a rustle of her satin skirt, Cynthia leaned toward the mirror and dabbed at her own lips with a bit of gloss. Buffy rose to give her room, looked around.
All was as it should be. The bed, the pillows, the closet door just ajar. A copy of "Your Prom" open on the bed, where a few moments ago the two of them had been reading a last article or two. She looked at Cynthia as she finished.
Cynthia was her oldest and dearest friend in all the world.
They stood together before the mirror; their gowns were new and stylish, their shoes new, their makeup new. They had done each other's hair and now took a moment to admire their success.
"God, we're hot," Cynthia said.
They giggled.
A knock came then, and the door cracked open.
Mom.
"Robert and Chad are here," she said. "Ready?"
"In a minute," Buffy answered. The words seemed just a bit distant and she wondered why.
Mom nodded and closed the door.
They took a few minutes; in one of the articles they had read it talked about making the first entrance when your date came to get you; keep them waiting, just a bit. Let the anticipation build, because this is your night, your prom.
#
They went down at last. She could feel the carpet beneath her shoes, giving just a bit as she walked, as she and Cynthia came down the stairs. And there, at the bottom, were Robert and Chad, each so handsome in his tuxedo, each smiling. And there was Dad, too, with the camera, and the flash in her eyes as he took their picture, she smiling her best smile because she felt so beautiful.
There were more pictures then, and Mom and Dad fussing about how nice they both looked, and then Robert was pinning her corsage on her and the flash was popping again.
And then a moment came and Mom and Cynthia and Robert and Chad were talking in the living room, and she was in the dining room with Dad.
He smiled.
"You know," he said, "I have to wonder what an old kook like me ever did to deserve a beautiful daughter like you."
She felt herself blush.
"Oh, Daddy ...."
He chuckled, reached into his pocket, drew out a slender black box.
"For you," he said.
She took it, opened it.
Bright, sharp light caught her gaze from gems on the necklace inside.
"Daddy?"
He smiled. It was his kind smile, the one she always remembered when she thought of him happy.
"Here." He took the necklace and moved behind her, laid it around her neck, fastened it. Then he faced her again.
"You are my everything, Buffy."
#
They ate, the four of them, at a fine restaurant. It was a beautiful evening; you could see the stars overhead. Robert held her chair for her when she sat down and Chad did likewise for Cynthia, and as they ate they talked.
School, college, the future.
This was good, and when they had finished they drove over to the gymnasium, parked and went inside.
And time became unimportant.
She was in his arms, his touch gentle as they danced, holding her close, and there was no need for words, no need for anything but the eternity that was this moment, that was she, good, loved and beautiful all through.
The night was perfect, under the quiet light of the sparkling ball overhead.
#
In time they moved from the dance floor, and he brought her some punch. Cynthia was there, and they smiled and talked and laughed a bit. Others came by, visited. Friends and other friends, and then, across the way, Mom.
Mom.
#
She looked out of place there. She was dressed as she had been at home, in pants and a blouse and a sweater. And there was something more, too, about how she stood, how she looked around the gymnasium.
"Is that your mom, Buffy?" Cynthia asked.
Buffy nodded.
"Yeah."
"What's she doing here?"
Buffy set down her glass of punch, took a step forward.
"I don't know."
Just as Mom saw her.
They met in the low light. Mom's face was drawn.
"Mom?"
"Buffy. I'm sorry. We have to go. Now."
"Mom? What is it?"
Mom's face tensed, her body with it.
"I'm sorry, sweetie. There's been an accident. Your father ...."
* * *
"Buffy?"
She blinked.
"Finished?"
Again.
Mirror. Her face there, so familiar. Pretty.
She nodded, closed the lipstick and slipped it into her small silk purse.
With a rustle of her satin skirt, Cynthia leaned toward the mirror and dabbed at her own lips with a bit of gloss. Buffy rose to give her room, looked around.
All was as it should be. The bed, the pillows, the closet door just ajar. A copy of "Your Prom" open on the bed, where a few moments ago the two of them had been reading a last article or two. She looked at Cynthia as she finished.
Cynthia was her oldest and dearest friend in all the world.
They stood together before the mirror; their gowns were new and stylish, their shoes new, their makeup new. They had done each other's hair and now took a moment to admire their success.
"God, we're hot," Cynthia said.
They giggled.
A knock came then, and the door cracked open.
Mom.
"Robert and Chad are here," she said. "Ready?"
"In a minute," Buffy answered. The words seemed just a bit distant and she wondered why.
Mom nodded and closed the door.
They took a few minutes; in one of the articles they had read it talked about making the first entrance when your date came to get you; keep them waiting, just a bit. Let the anticipation build, because this is your night, your prom.
#
They went down at last. She could feel the carpet beneath her shoes, giving just a bit as she walked, as she and Cynthia came down the stairs. And there, at the bottom, were Robert and Chad, each so handsome in his tuxedo, each smiling. And there was Dad, too, with the camera, and the flash in her eyes as he took their picture, she smiling her best smile because she felt so beautiful.
There were more pictures then, and Mom and Dad fussing about how nice they both looked, and then Robert was pinning her corsage on her and the flash was popping again.
And then a moment came and Mom and Cynthia and Robert and Chad were talking in the living room, and she was in the dining room with Dad.
He smiled.
"You know," he said, "I have to wonder what an old kook like me ever did to deserve a beautiful daughter like you."
She felt herself blush.
"Oh, Daddy ...."
He chuckled, reached into his pocket, drew out a slender black box.
"For you," he said.
She took it, opened it.
Bright, sharp light caught her gaze from gems on the necklace inside.
"Daddy?"
He smiled. It was his kind smile, the one she always remembered when she thought of him happy.
"Here." He took the necklace and moved behind her, laid it around her neck, fastened it. Then he faced her again.
"You are my everything, Buffy."
#
They ate, the four of them, at a fine restaurant. It was a beautiful evening; you could see the stars overhead. Robert held her chair for her when she sat down and Chad did likewise for Cynthia, and as they ate they talked.
School, college, the future.
This was good, and when they had finished they drove over to the gymnasium, parked and went inside.
And time became unimportant.
She was in his arms, his touch gentle as they danced, holding her close, and there was no need for words, no need for anything but the eternity that was this moment, that was she, good, loved and beautiful all through.
The night was perfect, under the quiet light of the sparkling ball overhead.
#
In time they moved from the dance floor, and he brought her some punch. Cynthia was there, and they smiled and talked and laughed a bit. Others came by, visited. Friends and other friends, and then, across the way, Mom.
Mom.
#
She looked out of place there. She was dressed as she had been at home, in pants and a blouse and a sweater. And there was something more, too, about how she stood, how she looked around the gymnasium.
"Is that your mom, Buffy?" Cynthia asked.
Buffy nodded.
"Yeah."
"What's she doing here?"
Buffy set down her glass of punch, took a step forward.
"I don't know."
Just as Mom saw her.
They met in the low light. Mom's face was drawn.
"Mom?"
"Buffy. I'm sorry. We have to go. Now."
"Mom? What is it?"
Mom's face tensed, her body with it.
"I'm sorry, sweetie. There's been an accident. Your father ...."
