The Edge of Always(44)

My mouth falls open slightly.

Andrew grins and slides the record back in the box.

“I’m not going to buy it,” he says, taking my hand.

Minutes later, we come to another booth chock-full of vintage-style clothing. As I’m meticulously combing through everything on the racks, Andrew falls back into the booth next to me where a wall of hundreds of DVDs and Blu-rays are displayed. He stands there in front of it with his arms crossed, practically unmoving as he scans each and every title. I can see the back of his head through the wooden mesh barrier that separates his booth from mine. I go back to the clothes, feeling a sense of urgency and need with just about each piece I touch. I frickin’ love vintage clothing. Not that I actually wear it, or ever really have, but it’s one of those things you can’t help but look at with admiration and imagine yourself in.

I push the thin metal hangers back, one by one, out of the way so I can see everything. Shirts with poet’s sleeves and leather laces, corsets, dresses with long, flowing sleeves and draping ruffles, Victorian-style boots—

What is this?

My heart stops for a second when I slide one hanger away and see the dress. An ivory vintage Gunne Sax with short flutter sleeves. I take the hanger from the rack and hold the dress against me and turn to the mirror. The length just barely drags the floor. With one hand holding the dress at level with my height, I reach down with the other and pull the fabric out with my fingers. Then I twirl around.

“God, I love this dress,” I say out loud to myself. “I have to have it.”

“I uhhh, have to say,” Andrew says from behind, startling me, “that’s a sweet dress.”

A little embarrassed that he likely saw me admiring myself in it, and talking to myself no doubt, I don’t look right at him. Instead, I peek inside to check out the size on the tag. It’s my size! Of course, I have to buy it now, no questions asked. It was meant to be!

Crushing the dress against me, I whirl around to face Andrew standing there.

“Do you really like it?” I ask guiltily, my way of begging him not to throw that old record conversation up in my face.

“I think you should get it,” he says with a big, dimpled smile. “I can picture you in it already. Beautiful. Naturally.”

I blush hard and look down at it again. “You think so?” I can’t stop smiling.

“Definitely,” he says. “And it would give me easier access.”

Leave it to him!

I let his perverted comment slide, mainly because I’m just way too in love with this dress. Then I realize suddenly that I haven’t looked at the price tag yet. Already familiar with Gunne Sax dresses, I know they aren’t expensive. But when it comes to some random person who thinks they can fool a buyer into paying three times what it’s worth, there’s no telling what that tag says. I hold my breath and look down. Twenty bucks! Perfect.

I look back at Andrew, and I feel like a bitch all of a sudden.

“Why don’t you go ahead and get that Led Zeppelin record,” I say timidly.

Andrew shakes his head, smiling. “Nah, an old record really has no use. But a dress like that, it has uses.” He crosses his arms and looks me up and down.

I’m thinking he’s just being a pervert again, and I start to call him on it this time when he adds, “Like getting married to me in it.”

His green eyes seem to flit across my blue ones.

My smile softens and I say, “It’s a perfect wedding dress.”

“Then it’s settled,” he says, taking my hand. “Whenever we get married, at least you have the dress taken care of.”

“That’s all we need, really,” I say, walking with him out of the booth with the dress draped over my forearm.

He glances over at me. “Rings,” he says with a curious look hidden within his eyes.

“I have a ring,” I say, holding out my hand in case he somehow forgot about the one he bought me in Texas.

“That’s an engagement ring.”

“Yeah, but it’s enough.”

“Well, I need one, too,” he says. “Or did you forget about me? It takes two, y’know.”

I chuckle lightly as we make it to the short line at the register. “OK, you’re right, but I’m fine with the ring I have. Besides, I know you spent a lot of money on this necklace. You can’t be doing that.”

“Are we back to that already?” he asks playfully, pulling his wallet from his pocket. “I didn’t lie to you about what I paid for the necklace.”

Maybe he really is telling the truth.

“I believe you,” I finally say.

He smiles and leaves it at that.





Andrew





20


Yes, I’m a damn liar. That necklace cost a little over six hundred bucks, but I know better than to tell her that. She thinks that expensive things are always all about how many zeroes are behind the decimal, but it’s not always about that. Really, I think it’s usually the girl that makes it all about the price. Shit, I’ve seen chicks bitch and moan about how their guy didn’t spend enough. I wonder if they even realize that they make it hard on us when they get together with their friends and compare rocks like we might compare inches. We don’t really do that, by the way. At least, I’ve never known a guy who wanted to whip his shit out and compete with me.