Martin’s eyes hovered briefly over to Gerri, blank and even a little sad, then returned to his phone. He continued down the steps with his eyes fixed on the device, trailing toward the kitchen.
Azura could feel anger boiling inside her, a feeling that was mostly driven by grief and resentment. She was going to open her mouth, to scold him in front of a stranger, when Gerri stepped forward with her hands on her hips.
“Young man,” she said sternly.
Gerri had pulled out the mother card, applying a tone that meant business. It must have triggered something in Martin’s mind because he stopped in his tracks and looked up from his phone and at Gerri with a look of having been struck.
“Your sister has been working hard for you,” Gerri began. “The very state of this home depends upon how well this luncheon goes, which means that your sister needs you on your best behavior.”
Martin was still staring, seemingly hypnotized. Azura had recalled at that moment how her mother had told her that sometimes children craved discipline.
Gerri held his gaze for a moment, then sauntered over to the couch to pick up a bag with a soft blue suit inside. She held it in front of her, her expression softening.
“Here is your suit for the day, Martin,” she said. “I expect you to be cleaned up and decked out in approximately one hour. Do you think you’re up to the challenge?”
Martin walked over to Gerri, never looking at Azura. He took the bag, then nodded, finally feeling that bit of shame that Azura had been carrying for over a year. He took it and trailed back upstairs.
“Wow,” Azura whispered.
Gerri was faced with a smirk.
“I hope I didn’t step over the line,” she said softly. “Sometimes young people won’t listen to their family members, but a stern stranger can set them straight.”
“No, no,” Azura said. “That was like magic. You’ll have to teach me sometime.”
Gerri let out a chuckle and then presented Azura with a few dress options, along with matching heels. Azura looked down at them, feeling like they were way too elegant and decadent for someone like her.
Gerri tracked a finger along a piece that was tight and tasteful. It was pastel yellow, a color that would make her stand out.
“I feel like this one would match your eyes and hair,” Gerri said.
Azura nodded as Gerri described the other dresses, assuring her that she would look stunning no matter what she chose.
She had to dress up to work at the hotel, so Azura wasn’t new to the concept. Sometimes, she would catch herself in the mirror and see her bountiful breasts and flawlessly curved bum and think,hey, I’ve got it going on.
But those days were rare. She hadn’t thought much about her appearance since losing her parents and would often feel guilty about spending money on herself, thinking that it was all for vanity.
Being presented with luxurious dresses made her feel undeserving, and that slithering sensation of guilt returned in the gallows of her gut.
Gerri peered at her as if sensing something. She lifted her hand to her shoulders.
“May I?”
Azura had to shake herself out of her brooding to realize that Gerri was asking to touch her hair, which she had tied into a quick bun. She nodded yes, and then Gerri removed the bun slowly, letting her honey-brown hair fall to her shoulders.
“Your hair is lovely,” Gerri mused.
She fussed a little, which made Azura feel warm and sorrowful. Despite being an adult, her mother had always played with her hair and offered various ways of styling it. Azura had refused, usually sinking into the habit of tying it up or letting it fall messily.
She had done little with it since losing her mother. There was a subconscious fear of cutting it, like she couldn’t cut away any part of her that her mother had once touched.
“I haven’t noticed,” Azura said.
After Gerri finished fluffing it, her hand lingered on Azura’s shoulder.
“Today is going to be wonderful, I promise you,” Gerri said.
Azura felt tears beginning to rise in her eyes, and she shook them away as she looked through the assortment of dresses.