How she has managed to keep in touch with both of us when Evelyne and I can’t see eye to eye is anyone’s guess.
The fact that Adele doesn’t gossip, take sides, or pass judgment on other people, helps a lot.
With her, what you see is what you get.
In that regard, we are the same. That doesn't mean she’s not different than me.
She is. A lot, in fact. And in every aspect of her life. Frankly, we couldn’t be more different even if we tried.
We hold different values, too.
In that respect, she’s more like my family, but unlike them, she doesn’t stick her nose in other people’s business, respecting choices different than her own.
These past years, she's had to put up with harsh critiques from my family and hers.
The fact that she stood her ground made me grateful and humble, leaving me no other choice but to keep in touch with her, although it hasn’t been easy.
She lives in a world different than mine.
Six years older than me––at thirty years old––she has her life figured out. She’s built a great career as a physician and is engaged to a wonderful man.
To help me socialize, she summons me to get together with her once in a while, offering me a semblance of normal life, attempting to bring out the woman I was supposed to be.
Proper, polished, and highly educated. A physician. Like her. A principled woman with moral standing and good values.
Adele has suggested the blind date, the thought of meeting up with a stranger making my skin crawl, but it’s the price I have to pay, so I preserve my friendship.
I check the time and walk into the closet before expertly running my eyes over the racks. Gray, black, navy. All designer labels. Few of my old clothes. Relics from years ago when I was someone else.
My eyes drop to the garment bags.
I pick one up and slip my fingers inside. Soft cream fabric brushes against my fingertips.
Cream?
Oh... I remember that day.
I wanted to try a new color and explore a different side of myself.
I peel off the garment bag, hold the dress in front of me and glance in the mirror.
Hmm.
I could make it work.
Admittedly, it looks good against the dark color of my hair. I open a drawer, fumble inside for a few moments, and pull out a set of cream lace lingerie.
Perfect. I slip it on. The soft, delicate lace makes my tanned skin look darker.
I put on my dress and examine myself in the mirror.
It looks nothing like me.
It’s so... I don’t know.
Virginal?
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