3
I’m not exactly sure how I ended up here. I’m standing beside my father, wearing my fanciest dress.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask again, “I’m not sure about this.” Who would be? My father has force fed me everything I need to know about Caroline Richards. She sounds like the exact opposite of me.
“There you are, my southern sweetie.” A high, female voice calls. Her bond hair is pulled back into an elegant chignon; she’s wearing a pink dress.
“This must be your daughter.” Tiffany says, taking my hand. We lock eyes, her are a steely gray.
“Sweetie, I’m Tiffany Richards, you must Emily?” I smile politely.
“Yes, Ma’m, I am.” I say. Another girl steps up, blonde like her mother but with warm brown eyes.
“Hi!” she says. I grit my teeth, “I’m Caroline.”
“Emily.” I say, giving her a once over. She’s wearing the exact same dress as I, a one-shouldered red dress that sets of her ashy blonde hair. It accents her long arms and strong legs. She looks amazing and I feel like crap.
“I hear you’re from the south. What’s that like?” Caroline asks me. I sneak a glance at my dad. He nods at me then kisses Tiffany’s forehead.
“We have a reservation waiting.” He says, taking Tiffany’s arm. Caroline and I fall into place behind them.
“I love Atlanta.” I say, “My father’s mom and dad still live down there.” Caroline nods.
“Now, what do you think of Bush being replaced by that Obama. Both me and my mom hate that.” Caroline says
“Why?” I ask as we reach our table. Caroline shrugs and sits beside me.
“Um, what sports do you play?” I ask, “you look pretty athletic.” Caroline stares at me.
“I only work out once a week.” she says, “Really, I think any more then that is over working myself.”
This is very awkward. It’s like we have nothing in common. My father did tell me she loved field hockey and singing and everything I did. Looks like he like lied to get me to go. I order a simple salad, not wanting to gain more weight then I need. I already know that tomorrow, I’ll be eating cookies and brownies, not caring about my weight.
“I’ll be right back.” Caroline says, grabbing her red clutch.
“Same, excuse me, please.” I say and follow her into the bathroom.
I don’t lock myself into a stall. Instead, I lean over a sink and splash my face with water. This is the most painful hour and a half of my life. I just want it to end.
