Ready or Not (Ready #4)
J.L. Berg
Twenty Years Ago
I stood on the large stage and quietly bent forward, smoothing the tiny wrinkles out of my pretty pink taffeta dress. The fabric glittered and shimmered as I moved under the bright spotlights. A simple satin bow sat high on top of my head, and dark ringlets curled down my back, reminding me of all the princesses Daddy would tell me about at bedtime.
Looking around at the crowded room and the large audience standing before us, I couldn’t help but smile.
I guessed I was kind of like a princess now.
“Stop fidgeting, Olivia,” my mother whispered next to me.
Her pale pink coat matched my dress, but it wasn’t nearly as pretty. It made her look old and stuffy. I liked it better when she used to dress in shorts and sandals, and she’d dance with me in the sprinklers when the weather got too hot and sticky to stay indoors.
I heard a tapping sound as a microphone came alive. My attention turned to the front of the stage as the crowd exploded in applause.
Smiling, I watched my daddy step out from behind the curtain, grinning and waving, as he passed by a sea of red, white, and blue. Signs bearing his picture and name were bobbing up and down amid the crowd, and I soon found myself covering my tiny ears to block out the thundering noise.
Slender polished fingers wrapped around mine and tugged my hands back down to my sides. I looked up to find my mother wiping tears from her eyes. She gave me a tight hug, and then she whisked away salty trails that had made their way down her cheeks.
“He’s no longer just ours anymore. Things are going to be different from this moment on,” she said.
I glanced back at my father, who was now standing at the wooden podium. After thanking everyone in the room, he turned around and motioned for the two of us to come forward.
“I wouldn’t be anyone without these two women standing beside me—my wonderful wife, June, and darling daughter, Olivia.”
The crowd cheered, and I couldn’t help but smile and blush a little.
I really did feel like a princess—or at least a senator’s daughter.
Whatever that was.
My father always said that being a senator was a big deal. All I knew was, his face was everywhere, and soon, he’d start working at the Capitol building downtown. I’d once taken a field trip there. It looked like the White House, and everyone said it was very old.
“This is only the first step. We’re making waves in Virginia ladies and gentlemen! Victory tonight, change tomorrow!” he bellowed into the microphone.
The crowd erupted once again as he wrapped his arms around us. My mother’s tears continued to flow as I smiled out at all the people cheering for my father.
She was wrong.
Daddy wasn’t different. He felt the same, and he certainly looked like the same goofy dad who would tuck me in at night and sing me songs about dinosaurs and princesses having tea parties.
It was just a job. Kara was one of my friends at school, and her father had gotten a new job. The only thing that had changed in Kara’s life was that she got a bigger house down the street.
We already had a big house.
I looked up at my daddy one more time as he squeezed me closer to his side and waved to the crowd.
Nothing would change.
He’d always be my hero.
~Liv~
Late.
I was always late.
I didn’t know how others managed their lives so effortlessly, especially when they had responsibilities outside of themselves, like kids and husbands and a few plants.
I had only myself to manage, yet I was always running around like a nut at the last moment, trying to decide things like if the teal or brown sandals went better with my dress.
“Teal. Definitely teal,” I muttered as I stared into the floor-length mirror hanging on the back of my bedroom door.
Shoe decision made, I shifted into hyperdrive and began throwing on bangle bracelets and a scarf before finishing everything off with a spritz of my favorite lavender perfume.
I flew down the stairs and made it to the door before I came to a screeching halt.
“Brown!” I yelled to no one in particular as I ran back upstairs to switch my shoes for the tenth time.
I ran back down to the first floor of my historic little house and managed to grab my keys and purse before rushing out the door. I had just turned the lock when I noticed a beast of a moving van occupying the entire street.
“What the hell?” I mumbled, looking around in a daze.
My little blue Prius was perfectly blocked in by a red monstrosity of a moving truck.
Mike’s Movers was plastered on the side, and two big, bulky men were slowly moving down a ramp with a large blue dresser.
“Excuse me!” I yelled, marching over to the beefy quarterback-looking men.
“Yeah?”
“Are you aware your truck is blocking the entire street?” I asked, trying to ignore my high-pitched tone and the way my hand attached itself to my hip.
I looked like a bitch.
But I’m angry!
Beefy man number one’s eyebrow arched in amusement. I had no doubt he found my annoyance cute and endearing.
“Sorry, sweetheart. It’s a narrow road, and there aren’t any alleyways big enough. We’re going as fast as we can.”
“Listen, sweetheart,” I replied, making his lazy smile falter slightly, “I’m late for something, and I really need to get out of my driveway. So, if you could move your big-ass truck just a smidge and let me out, I’d be so very grateful.”