“Which one do you think Essos would prefer?” I ask him, holding up the two dresses. One is a full-length lavender dress that I’m doubtful of, because it feels juvenile with its illusion neckline and lace flower appliques from the shoulders to slightly below the waist. Dave barks. I lower that one and raise up a sexier option, a strapless and form-fitting black dress.
Dave gives a small growl, so I put the offending dress away, still doubtful. I hang the lavender dress on the hook outside my closet.
“He is your master. I suppose you would know best.” I jump in the shower, realizing I’m low on time. When I come out in my towel, Dave is where I left him, watching me with his big eyes. I give his head a good scratch, and his tail pounds on the bed. Sliding into the lavender gown, I feel less like a child as I admire the plunging neckline I previously overlooked.
“Since you’ve proven yourself such a fashionista, which shoes?” In my hands, I have a pair of black flats and some pointy-toed silver heels covered in rhinestones. When Dave barks for the heels, I frown and hold up the flats again.
“Are you sure? These seem much more sensible.” He huffs in response. “Heels it is.”
Having burned so much time asking for Dave’s opinion, I have no choice but to leave my hair down. I hardly have enough time to blow dry it, and as I flip my hair over, I’m positive there are still damp clumps. I pass on all the large statement jewelry again and opt for a long chain with a teardrop gemstone that rests between my breasts. I look at myself in the mirror and adjust my bra, then decide I’m ready.
Desperate to not be late, I slide my shoes on and stride to the stairs. Thankfully, other girls are descending the stairs as well, so I am not last. I join the flow into the dining room, letting out a sigh of relief. When I catch sight of Essos, I’m surprised at the smile that springs to my face.Maybe I want this more than I thought.
It takes just a second for my smile to fade. He’s walking with Zara on his arm, and I can just hear them through the chatter as she makes a suggestion.
“Essos, this might be out of the norm, but I think we should have a little ceremony to mark what we each lost. I think it would be a great way for us to begin to heal and move forward from what we went through, in order to really open us up to this process.”
I stop walking, shocked to hear my idea come out of her mouth.
“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Essos agrees, leading her to the chair beside his.
I want to hit her, but instead, I take my seat and clench my teeth. Through my anger, I make a mental note to thank Dave, since Zara is wearing a black dress that’s almost identical to the one I was considering.
Once everyone is seated, Essos stands, and we’re all served glasses of wine. “Zara just reminded me that you are all struggling with this adjustment and grieving the loss of your loved ones, and I’m sorry if I haven’t been more sympathetic to this fact.” Essos places a hand on Zara’s bare shoulder, and I have to look away. Otherwise, my glare might burn a hole through them both, and then I’d have to hear all about their matching holes.
“Her idea is to have a memorial so you can each remember your families and friends and the life you’ve left behind. I propose we go around the table and have each of you talk a little bit about someone that you lost—or many someones, as the case may be. Zara, why don’t you start?”
My ears are red hot, burning with fury. As Zara stands and starts to talk about her parents, Tiffany manages to catch my eye, and she mouths her apology to me. I give her a curt nod while grabbing Cat’s hand under the table and squeezing it. My action catches her off guard, and she looks at me quickly. I shift my gaze to shoot daggers at Zara, who has started to talk about her grandparents.
Before I can tell Cat why I am crushing the ever-loving shit out of her hand, Zara’s wine glass shatters in hers. I jerk back and stare in disbelief. Everyone is startled, most of all Zara.
Essos looks at me, an odd combination of concern and pride on his face. Before I can figure out what that means, he does a sweep of the room, looking to make sure that no one else is affected.
“Oh god, I must have been holding it too tightly while talking about grandpabby. Oh no, I’m bleeding.” Zara doesn’t seem too put off by the blood as she practically swoons into Essos.
While everyone fusses over Zara, I turn to Cat. “The memorial was my idea. Tiffany and I talked about it earlier,” I whisper to her.
“That two-faced bit—” Cat starts.
“Don’t. She’s not worth it. I’m just... To hear Zara say it was her idea was frustrating.”
Our conversation cuts off as soon as they’re ready to continue around the table. Tiffany lights up, talking about Steve and her parents, and I dread the moment it’s my turn to talk about the people I am grieving. This was meant to give people a chance to talk if they wanted to. I don’t want to. I would rather grieve in my own space and let people lean on me.
The people I would grieve all left me behind years ago. My parents died when I was too small to remember them. I miss my maternal grandparents, but my memories of them are too fuzzy to hurt the way others are hurting. I miss my adoptive parents, but I’m not as heartsick as some of the others here.
When it’s finally my turn, I have figured out what to say. I stand up and smooth down the tulle of my dress.
“Melinda and Phil were better parents than I deserved. When they adopted me, I was bitter and resentful of my situation, and I laid a lot of my issues at their feet. My only hope is that this doesn’t break them. I also really miss my cat, Waffles—he was such a good boy. He loved to beg for food and steal my socks.” I raise my glass and sit back down.Wide eyes around the table make me realize that this is probably the most any of them have heard me talk about myself. It makes me want to retreat back into my shell, but I refuse, keeping my back straight.
I glance at Essos, and he offers me a small smile before focusing on Cat, who is talking about her brothers and parents. I reach out to take her hand again and give it a less punishing squeeze, so she knows that she is never alone. I will never not need her in my life.
Following dinner, we meet in the ballroom with our escorts. Finn bows and offers his hand to me then leads me onto the dance floor. I follow him, realizing that I should not have listened to Dave about my shoes. I should have gone with flats.
“This dress is a bold choice.” He tries to guide me, but I keep stepping on his toes. Finally, he stops. “I lead. You need to let someone else take charge—you cannot control what is happening on this dance floor any more than you can control being dead or what happens during the Calling. So, let. It. Go.” I am taken aback, but he reaches out and takes my hands again. We start moving to the music.
“Someone is in a mood today,” I snark at him, put out at being reprimanded.
“Yes, well, I had errands to run, and they were not very fun. You’re doing better. You just need someone to bully you into letting them have control.” We are gliding more easily, although I stomp on his foot on purpose at that comment. Finn growls at me.