I had been planning on finishing the latest John Grisham novel while Brit quarantined herself in her room and watched sappy love movies. The first time she and Justin were separated, she stayed in her room for two weeks, crying and refusing to eat. She lost 12 pounds because, at the tender age of 13, she’d been ‘ripped away from the only good thing in [her] tragic young life’- her exact words, not mine. Brit never really bounced back from breakups too quickly, so I was surprised to find that she was awake before me and ready to go shopping.
“What’s taking so long?” I could imagine her standing at the door in some outrageously cute outfit, picking at her nails in irritation.
She couldn’t, however, be more irritated than I was as I rubbed my eyes free of sleep. Reluctantly, I rolled out of bed and pushed on a pair of sunglasses. “I’m coming,” I huffed, pulling a blue A&F Tee over my head. Grabbing a pair of American Eagle flip-flops to match my baggy kaki shorts, I nearly stumbled down the hall. Making my way towards the door, Britney and I stared at one another as if only one of us were sane.
“Are you actually wearing that?”
“Yes. Are you actually going out in public like that?”
“At least I’m comfortable,” I countered, taking in her shiny leather stilettos boots and short mini skirt. It may have been all right if she hadn’t put on fishnets and a black sequined bandeau strip under a crisp, half-buttoned Oxford. It seemed that everyone except for Brit had received the memo that she wasn’t an A-cup and that tiny strip of fabric was a tad too small. “We’re only going to hit a few shops. I thought you wanted to be low key.”
“I want to have fun. No worries today.” I eyed her skeptically. Okay, it might be overkill, but what about you?” She perked up as she said that last part. Apparently being relaxed was a worse faux pas than looking like a hooker at 7:30 in the morning. “You seriously look like you just rolled outta bed.”
“Um, yeah. Cause I seriously just did.”
She rolled her eyes at my deadpan sarcasm. “My point exactly.”
We stood there for a moment before making the silent agreement we both knew was coming. With no words, we both walked to our rooms and shut our doors to recreate ourselves. I’m sure both of us spent more time than necessary staring at the clothes in our closets, rejecting garments one by one, only returning to the one top we’d wrote off ten minutes ago. I even made the effort to brush my hair down. The turquoise halter-style top flowed loosely, falling on my adequate curves in the correct places. A jean skirt with frayed detailing by DKNY and neutral Jimmy Choo mules completed my ensemble.
“Much better,” I commented.
“You like?” She showed off her body-hugging tunic. “I’m wearing Valentino’s casual collection today. I couldn’t let go of these though.” She tugged on the leg of her simple black pants revealing the same boots as earlier.
I pushed her out of the door, sharing a chuckle with her. Surprisingly, I was ready for some browsing. I couldn’t actually buy anything, though, because then I’d have to admit that I enjoyed being up this early on our day off. But, yeah, I’d browse.
***********************************************I feared that this would end up being another one of her shopping binges where I was only there to carry her bags or offer an opinion on how she looked in every outfit. Our first stop was Neiman Marcus. I was going to sit in the car and read, but she insisted that I come in and look around.
As I’d expected, the commotion began as soon as her stiletto-clad foot hit the polished floor. It didn’t occur to me that I’d completely abandoned my post as P.A. Normally, I would have called the store an hour in advance to let them know that we needed to drop by, but it slipped my mind.
Brit didn’t notice, or at least, she didn’t say so. She immediately hit the racks, but I stayed near the door, checking out some of the art hanging around the room. When I tired of that, I found a seat in the corner near the dressing rooms and went back to my book.
“Hey, Becca, come here. You have to see this dress.” The urgent tone in her voice told me that she wanted me to critique how her butt looked in it, but I relented and followed her voice.
“That’s a cute dress,” I admitted- and it really was. An elegant black halter dress, it was hardly her style. “But it’s not very…you, is it?”
“No silly,” She scrunched up her nose (you know, that little trademark thing she does). “It’s for you.”
I looked up to see her genuinely smiling and holding up the dress and measuring the length against her own calf, then mine. “This is definitely you. Now, there’s only one thing missing.”
We both giggled the way that we used to when we were little girls sharing secrets and gossiping about our classmates. “Jewelry,” we both shouted in chorus.
We continued to spend the rest of the day like so. Gone were the days when I was intimidated to ask my best friend about certain things. I didn’t have to worry about fulfilling her every whim and need, nor did I have to worry about keeping a schedule or making appointments. We were back on the same level. We were talking and laughing, and just having a girls' day out. Much deserved, sorely missed and highly appreciated.
******************************************We spent the rest of the week doing pretty much the same thing. After another day of shopping at Louis Vuitton (and just so you know, I’m no freeloader. The raise from Johnny paid for it all.), we went to The Tiki Grill for lunch.
“Who is this mystery guy that you’ve been staying up to talk to?” Britney asked as she picked through her salad.
“Umm… just a friend.” She shot me one of those as-if looks. “No, really. He’s just going through some…well, some personal stuff and I’ve been listening to him vent. That’s all.”
“Do I know him?”
“No, not really.”
