Last Night at the Telegraph Club(7)
“A wonderful collection of mix-and-match separates, ma’am,” Miss Stevens said. Her gaze flickered briefly to the blond salesgirl and then back to Lily’s mother, who went to the case and examined the jerkin and the ad.
“Where would you wear this, Lily?” Her mother’s tone was short and critical.
Lily was embarrassed. “I don’t know. I was just looking.”
“It’s perfect for parties,” Miss Stevens said. “If Miss Marshall is preparing a fitting room for you, she could bring this ensemble too.”
The blond salesgirl—Miss Marshall—stepped forward with her armful of clothes, her face blandly expectant, but Lily’s mother shook her head.
“Thank you, but I don’t believe this is right for my daughter. Come to the fitting room, Lily. I have some school clothes for you to try on.”
Lily gave Miss Stevens an apologetic look before hurrying after her mother and Miss Marshall. Miss Stevens returned her glance with a thin smile as she folded the jerkin to put it away.
In the dressing room, the salesgirl hung a row of dresses, shirtwaists, skirts, and matching jackets on the wall-mounted rail. Lily’s mother took a seat on the bench inside the room. “Try on the brown dress first,” her mother said. “That one, with the black buttons.”
There was a succession of brown and gray dresses and skirts, with pale pink or baby blue cotton shirtwaists featuring demure round collars or cuffed three-quarter-length sleeves. They were the teenage version of her mother’s church suit, inoffensive but boring. Lily thought longingly of the tuxedo jerkin, but as she made her way through the clothes her mother had chosen, the idea of it became increasingly outlandish. Maybe her mother was right. Where would she wear such a thing? It would cause a sensation at the fall dance, but she wasn’t the kind of girl who caused sensations.
“The jacket is too big for you,” her mother said, studying the latest suit Lily had tried on.
It was taupe-colored and boxy, and Lily thought it was old-fashioned. “I don’t like it,” she said.
“You’re going to be a senior,” her mother said. “You need to have the right look.” She opened the dressing room door, but the corridor outside was empty. “Where’s that salesgirl?” She glanced back at Lily. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
After her mother left, Lily gazed at her reflection in the mirror. You need to have the right look. Lily knew what her mother meant. She needed to look respectable and serious. The girl in the mirror looked like a schoolgirl dressing up in her mother’s clothes. Her mouth was pinched shut and her forehead was creased, her body swallowed by the jacket’s padded shoulders. If her mother could see her now, she would tell her to stop being ungrateful. They hardly ever shopped upstairs at Macy’s unless there was a major sale, but here she was in the junior miss department with all the latest fashions, not the bargain basement with its odds and ends from last season.
Lily remembered a different visit to Macy’s when she was a child—nine or ten—with Eddie clinging to Mama’s hand as she pushed the buggy with baby Frankie in it through the heavy doors onto the first floor. It had been a struggle to get all of them into the elevator and up to the fourth floor where Santa’s workshop was located. Lily remembered silver snowflakes hanging from the ceiling, tinsel strung over the display cases, and boxes and boxes of toy cars and airplanes stacked on the shelves. An electric train circled a miniature Christmas village, and Eddie knelt to stare at it, transfixed, while Lily was drawn to a table-top chemistry set. There were test tubes in a stand, and a tiny Bunsen burner, and strangely colored liquids housed in little glass vials. The box that the chemistry set came in had an illustration of two boys playing together, and over their blond heads were the words DISCOVER THE FUTURE TODAY!
She didn’t know how long she examined the chemistry set, but suddenly her mother appeared with Eddie and Frankie in tow, exclaiming that she had lost her, and what had she been doing? Lily had pointed to the chemistry set and asked, “Can I have this for Christmas?”
Her mother gazed at her for a moment, and then said, “Don’t you want a doll instead?”
Lily had been too old for tantrums, but something about her mother’s response made her angry, and she fisted her hands by her sides and announced, “I don’t want a doll!”
Her mother’s face had hardened instantly, and Lily saw her hand jerk as if she were about to strike her, but she couldn’t let go of either Eddie or Frankie. Instead, she snapped, “You’re in Macy’s, for goodness’ sake. Be quiet.”
Her mother’s cutting tone had stunned her, and Lily had burst into tears.
Now, the dressing room door opened and her mother returned, Miss Marshall in tow, with another two suit jackets. “Try this one on,” her mother said, handing over a smaller size.
Lily complied. The smaller jacket fit much better. When she buttoned it, the waist nipped in as it was supposed to, rather than ballooning out around her hips. Her mother adjusted the jacket’s drape. Over her mother’s shoulder, Lily saw Miss Marshall carefully plucking a stray black hair from the lapel of the larger jacket and surreptitiously dropping it on the floor.
“Better,” Lily’s mother said, stepping back and blocking Lily’s view of the salesgirl. There was an unusual expression on her face, and it took a moment for Lily to realize that her mother was satisfied.