Page 39 - Solstice Art & Literary Magazine 2021

Starry Night. I couldn’t tell at first what it was made of—not cotton, not linen. It was dream-stuff. Only dream-stuff would sway the way it did when Mom stepped out of the fitting room. I begged her to twirl. When she did, the soft studio light coalesced around her like a halo of fairy-dust. The magic worked.
“Do you have something for my daughter too?” Mom asked graciously.
“Of course! Come with me,” the fairy godmother replied. She took us to the back of the shop, where the treasure trove of little-girl dresses was hidden. She lifted up a layered A-line dress the shade of pink cotton candy. I knew it was a proper lady’s dress because
it even had a shift loved it instantly.
TWO dresses. walked away with that day—one for the princess, the
other for her little la- dy-in-waiting.
IMPATIENCE • SNAPPY SHIEVITZ
Chalk Pastel • 11”x17”
A moment later, the baby-blue door swung open, revealing my mom, who was evidently surprised to see Mindy. “Come on in!” She said in high-pitched, cheery English.
By custom, I let Mindy enter first. “Slippers for you!” My mom bowed down immediately and placed before Mindy’s white sneakers a pair of soft slippers, the kind we reserved for guests. “What’s your name?”
“Mindy,” my friend flashed her pearly bleached teeth, but the corners of her mouth stiffened. Her smile grew cold.
Tendrils of dread rose within
underneath. I That’s what we
become the Homecoming Queen. But Mindy definitely could, with her tan swimmer’s body THROUGH THE in short shorts and
me. I had noticed that my mom was wearing a sheer white dress halfway to her knees. I was sure, moreover, that it wasn’t a dress, but a shift she bought for me—the one that came with my favorite pink A-line. I thought it had disappeared in a cardboard box along with the oth- er evidence of my childhood on the other side of the ocean. But no, my mom must’ve kept it as a nightgown. It fit badly on her. Through the filmy fabric, I could easily see my mom’s tired, bare body. So could Mindy.
THREE summers
ago, my new friend
Mindy asked to stay
at my house for a
while before her
swim practice. This was a whole different realm. This was America, where not every Cinderella could
someone like Her Majesty asked to stop by my humble abode.
I rang the doorbell.
CONTINUES
FILMY FABRIC, Urban tops, and
I COULD EASILY SEE MY MOM’S TIRED, BARE BODY. SO COULD MINDY.
with her perfect bleached teeth she flashed in every sel- fie. I curtly agreed when she asked to come over—it was not an everyday occurrence when
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