“Are we covering up the tattoos?” called the young woman from the dressing room.
Her friend, the bride-to-be, scoffed in reply. “We would never cover up Mama Jade and Raven Sky.” She turned to me. “Her ancestors,” she whispered with a wink and a smile.
Of course, she knew I could hear them. We were all packed into the bridal salon like passengers on a streetcar at rush hour. Banquet chairs lined one side of the hall with mirrored change rooms on the other. My daughter was trying on prom dresses while I sat holding myself tightly. It was still odd being in such close quarters with this many people.
The bridesmaid friend walked out clad in a gorgeous gold satin gown. Her intricately beautiful tattoos now on full display, she beamed when she saw her reflection. “It looks so much better than I thought!” she said. “I can see myself in this. I’m dancing; I’m doing shots.”
“You’re fixing my train and getting me snacks,” the bride retorted, smiling drily.
The friend waved her off. “Once you say your vows, you’re Tim’s. He’ll handle you.”
“Mm hm,” said the bride with a roll of her eyes. “So how’s the size? Your weight may fluctuate between now and November.”
“Not likely,” said the bridesmaid with confidence. “I like to say I’m a sturdy two thirty.”
The bride laughed out loud. “A sturdy two thirty and loyal to the bone! I’m the luckiest.”
“You are.”
And then my daughter alit from the dressing room, glowing in a shimmery baby blue gown. I gasped for the sixth time that day at her effortless beauty. “I love it, baby,” I said. “It matches your eyes.”
She held her phone up and spoke into the mirror. “So, my mom likes this one—says it matches my eyes. But I’m not sure. I’ve got these hip dips and they’re like so prominent in this dress.”
It takes me a second to realize she’s sending a snap message to her friends and not actually speaking to me. She turns to me with a smile. “Should I try on the purple one?” And I nod.
On the other side of me, a woman in her early seventies is trying on a sequinned gown and complaining to her friend. “These dinners,” she moans. “By the time I’m done buying dresses for this cruise, I’ll have spent more money than the actual room price.”
“You’re lucky,” replied the friend. “Joe doesn’t take me anywhere.”
“Well, you’re not missing much, Nancy,” she said. “Dave loves to cruise but I think he’s nostalgic for when he would go with his parents in the 60s. It was classy back then, dignified. Now, I dunno… it feels more like ridiculous indulgence in a burning world.”
“It’s never ridiculous to seek out joy,” said the friend softly.
“Mom! Can you zip me up?” called my daughter.
“Yes, baby,” I said.
Scenes from a Bridal Salon