E Is For Easter Dress
Kneeling at the bed, I buried my nose in the skirt. See? I raised my head. A new Easter dress! I sniffed the unwashed newness again. And new shoes! I held one black patent Mary Jane to my nose. I have a new Easter dress, God! I said aloud. Who are you talking to? Claire opened the door and looked around. God, my voice was small. You think you’re so special, don’t you? You’d better thank God you have that dress. She grabbed a lock of my hair. My mouth became a serious straight line. I held my head very still. My shoulders tensed. Claire released my hair and fingered the edge of the new dress. You should’ve worn my old dress from last year, her voice was low and rough; she wasn’t speaking to me. She looked at my face, You’d better take good care of this dress. I grabbed my Bible from the nightstand and propped myself on my elbows, leaning over the dress to protect it from her, and began to read softly to myself. One at a time, I knocked the new shoes under the bed skirt with my knee. Claire jerked open her desk drawers and slammed them shut. Finally, she stomped out of the room.
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