- Veronica -

Standing in the clothing department, my mother is practically vibrating, even as she tries to contain herself. I know what she wants—she wants me to pick out an outfit for when I hear who I've been partnered with so we can have a union ceremony quickly before I leave for college at the end of the week. Why I wanted to come here was I needed a warmer jacket for when I move across the country into a colder climate. But while I'm over here, looking for something that could keep me from freezing this fall, she's slowly making her way through the formal outfits, trying to catch my eye over the racks when she comes close to something she likes. I've been ignoring her, or at least doing my best to try.

Right now, my concern is packing for college. From what I hear, there is limited space for anything and if I get partnered and shuffled into double-lodging, it will be even less because I'll have to share my closet, my bathroom, my desk, my bed…

I catch the bile in the back of my throat and choke it back. Once again, I close my eyes and wish to be paired with someone I know. The list is growing in my head of acceptable candidates. Duncan would be fine, as would Casey Gant who was in my history class. I wouldn't even mind Eli Navarro. His first match rejected him, choosing instead to lead a life on their own rather than marry him. When word spread, I felt so bad and hoped that someone would be matched with him before he headed off to structural engineering school. But as of now, it looks like he'll be making the trek solo.

There are some people who make my skin crawl and I most definitely would rather choose to live alone for the rest of my life than create a union with them. Troy Vandergraff was on my debate team last year and kept saying he was going into I.T. and that he would hack Orwell's code and pair us together, which gave me the creeps. Thankfully Dick Cassablancas, the king doofus of the school, has already placed his preference for polyamory, like Logan, so I'm safe. His kid brother, Cassidy, used to creep me out by following me around the school until Lilly told Dick to tell him to knock it off. He would be too young to be paired with me right now, but still, if that were to occur, I would definitely reject that match.

Mom says there's no point in speculating, but trying to solve this puzzle helps my brain comprehend the next steps. Prepared. I want to be mentally prepared. Up until this everything has worked out pretty well for me by just being prepared. I'm prepared for school, prepared for my career, prepared for life. As my dad says, life is simpler now—just follow the rules set out and everything will work out as it should. I need to have faith and trust that the system will continue to work.

"Veronica, dear…" My mom touches my arm and I jump nearly out of my skin.

"Jeez, Mom!"

"I'm sorry if I startled you, but you were just standing here, staring at the coats…"

"I'm fine. Just deciding." I grab the black winter coat closest to where my hand fell and hug it close to my body, avoiding my mother's glance. "And there. Done. Let's go."

"But Veronica, I want you to pick out one more thing…"

Here it comes.

"A dress or a nice pantsuit for your union ceremony."

My exhale sounds more like a groan and I cringe at my lack of control of the inflection.

"Mom, it doesn't have to be fancy."

"I know, but it would be nice to have something, well, nice."

"What's wrong with this?" I spread open my arms, exposing my white jeans and plain white t-shirt. "It's white. Isn't that the colour people used to wear?"

"Veronica…"

"Mom…"

"Can you please humour me this time? Don't make me bribe you with ice cream like you're a five-year-old."

"For one, I humour you all the time, mom." I toss my hair over my shoulder and glance over towards the formal section. "For another, I thought we were picking up ice cream on the way home anyway? It's my birthday tomorrow which means ice cream and waffles for breakfast. That's the tradition."

"Yes. The last year of the tradition as well." My mother tosses her own long blond hair over her shoulder and smirks at me. "I'll have to teach your partner how to make them for you for next year."

There goes my stomach again, flipping and flopping like a dying fish on the shore.

"Nope. You'll have to come across the country and do it next year. He won't mind, I'm sure of it. Just remember to knock before you come in that morning, okay?"

Joke. Deflect. Maybe she'll leave me alone.

Instead, her hand wraps around my bicep and gives me a pull. I let it all go, allowing her to lead me around the racks until we are across the store and standing in front of a rack of formalwear. She reaches into the lines of fabric and pulls out a soft blue dress with a sweet-heart bodice. My nose wrinkles and she sighs and puts it back. The next one is a pink one-piece summer jumper with spaghetti straps and wide palazzo pants. I shake my head and she puts it back too.

"Let me just look, Mom." I step forward and she moves away, her palms up in mock defence.

"Whatever you want, Veronica. This is your special day."

I roll my eyes as I start to flip through the outfits. "Special day, huh? Signing a piece of paper is a special day?"

"Veronica Mars, you know it means more than that." Her voice is snippy over my shoulder and I register that this is one thing I will not miss when I move. "You're about to meet the person you are meant to spend the rest of your life with. That's a huge, huge deal."

"I know it is, Mom. You don't have to point it out, trust me, I get that this is a big life deal. But so is becoming a lawyer and eventually a judge. That's an even bigger deal. I can have an impact on the entire country with my job. That's an incredible thing and whoever the guy is that I get matched with had better understand that or I'm rejecting him right off the bat and doing this life all on my own. Just me and my vibrator living happily ever after."

"Veronica!"

"What? It's true." Laughing, I turn to face her, enjoying the shade of red she is turning. My generation has been talking about sex for most of our teenage lives. I still enjoy that my mother has her prudish generation's ideas lodged in her brain from time to time. "Maybe Orwell will pair me with that instead? Is that a thing? Can that happen?"

"Ver-on-i-cahhhh…" she hisses and I continue to laugh, turning back to the rack.

"I'm kidding, mom. I'm sure it will all be fine and I'll be paired with a wonderful man who will be the perfect partner in all ways."

My eye catches a peacock blue fabric in the racks and I pull it out, the satin fabric swishing as the skirt opens. It has a high neck but sleeveless and I glance at the size to make sure it will fit.

"This one. I think this is a pretty one."

I hold it against my body as best I can with the coat in my other hand and spin around towards one of the mirrors on a pillar. The blue of the fabric catches the blue in my eyes and I can't help but smile at my reflection. I can pair it with a simple pair of sandals I have and it would be a nice outfit, even if I don't go through with the union ceremony.

"Oh Veronica, it's gorgeous."

"Yeah, it is, Mom."

What will my partner think of this outfit?

My brain balks. This is a new sensation to think about what a virtual stranger will think of my choices. Up until this point, the people with the most influence in my life have been my family and Lilly. Even though Logan and Duncan hung out with us, they wouldn't really be considered an influence per se. Duncan was usually quiet, deferring to Lilly or Logan's naturally outgoing natures, and Logan wouldn't care if I was in a paper bag or a fancy dress.

It was Lilly and her stacks of old magazines filled with what was once called couture outfits who thought my choices of simple, understated clothes were boring. I mean, it wasn't like we had a lot of choices like they once did. I'm lucky that this one dress was in my size, because there wasn't another. In economics class, they taught us that part of the ramifications from the war was the loss of international trade partners, which meant we were last in the international supply chain. "Canada's castoffs" is what Logan called our current fashion in his term paper for that class. Somehow though, Lilly always manages to make what we were left with look fabulous, cutting up t-shirts and layering them in cool ways, or asking me to sew a pair of pants with my mother's sewing machine so they were just a little tighter. I just wear what I wear like I found it on the rack and consider myself lucky to find it at all.

Mom scoops the jacket and then the dress from my hands, tossing a wink over her shoulder as she walks towards the register, a smirk of self-satisfaction on her lips.

I may tease her, but I'll miss my family when I move. Mom says a parent is supposed to get on their child's nerves—that's their job. But for all my mother's poking and prodding about what I should and should not do, my father is the opposite, just content to love. I'm ashamed to think it, but I will miss him most. You're supposed to love your parents equally, but things are just different with my dad. His calm and easy ways, despite the pressure of his job, puts me at ease. More than Mom. More than Lilly. More than anyone could. And the truth is, part of me hopes that whatever man I end up with tomorrow has those qualities. A man that can go through hell and back and still know exactly who they are. If he exists, I hope he is paired with me, but right now, no one I know would fit that description. Not in the least.