Chapter 10

When I got home, there was a note from mom saying she was taking care of "business" at the store. Business that usually meant shopping. And *lots* of it. She took the whole process quite seriously. I remember well the one time I went along. It was a big mistake. Her rude, impatient attitude embarrassed me over and over again. The second we left the house she was in this kind of "get the hell out my way" frenzy, acting more like an addict in desperate need of a fix than anything else.

As the shopping progressed, the change in my mother went slowly from night to day. With each beep of the cash register, each signature, each detour back to the car, mom was more and more elated, as if her emotional high was somehow electronically linked to the credit card balance.

But what happened when we got home that day sickened me the most. My dad greeted us and asked her how she was doing. Nothing was said. Instead, he was immediately taken by the hand and escorted to the rear of the car, where she proceeded to open the trunk lid, exposing the vast quantities of her "booty".

"Just *look* in there," her eyes glazed over insanely as she spoke. "That's how I feel! Right there!"

I watched the living room clock nervously at it approached that magic hour, five O'clock. The hour when hopefully Jenny would show up.

With each passing minute the prospects grew dimmer like the slowly setting sun through the window shades. Had she even seen my note? If so, why wasn't there a reply?

Suddenly there was a soft knock at the door and I jumped up to answer it. As I opened the door I could feel everything bubbling up inside me with anticipation.

Wow! Was she a sight, wearing this off-the-shoulder white dress with wide straps that crossed in front, widening enough to barely encompass her breasts. Her arms crossed in front too, making those pointy shoulders poke out seductively.

Jenny looked like a sweet southern belle, an image of delightful femininity.

Sure, I knew that being feminine is much more than wearing darling dresses and lace and cute hairdos.

I knew that. But inside me there was this desire to be that beautiful flower, just like Jennifer was. To be caught up in that whimsical flight of fancy. Of being totally and completely "girl". I was in love with the thought of it and in love with love itself.

It sure looked like she had really gone well out of her way to look extra pretty that day. But for me? I could only dream of being the object of her affection, she had so many other friends. Looking at how attractive she was started stirring up all these romantic, dreamy feelings again. It was too embarrassing for me to admit to being such a tomboy. Too hard to admit being afraid of being a girl, of not knowing what it was all about. But desperately wanting someone other than mother to help me sort things out. Someone I could trust. Someone like Jenny.