Loosen up and enjoy the moment, there is always room for critical thought later.
I’m in the shop, hemming pants as usual, when Cherise arrives. We’re alone once again. My father had run to a supplier for more black thread. Being a tuxedo shop, we go through a lot of black thread.
Cherise has come to tell me exactly when Adam will be asking me to the prom. But first she wants to know, “Where are you guys going Saturday night?”
I shrug and for an instant wonder if it’s a bad thing that here it is Friday afternoon and Adam and I haven’t firmed up our plans for tomorrow night. “We haven’t talked about it,” I tell her. “Adam said he’d be in touch after swim practice today.”
“That’s exactly what I hoped you’d say,” Cherise cheers, grabbing a chair and pulling my astrological chart out of her book bag. “I have something to show you.”
I can’t help it. I roll my eyes. I’m trying so hard to be accepting of all this. The eye-roll was a throw back to BD (Before I made the Deal with her regarding Adam asking me out). BD, I permitted myself to make fun of Cherise’s hobby. Now, I must reprimand myself and silently promise to try harder to keep my cynicism under control.
Either Cherise doesn’t notice my slip, or she doesn’t care. “I was reviewing your chart,” she says.
“The solar or natal one?” I cut in. Just to show how much I’m trying, I’ve taken to using her lingo. If I’d won the deal instead of her, I’d fully expect her to be spouting astronomy terms. Fair is fair.
“The natal one,” she tells me while unfolding the large familiar white paper with its big hand-drawn pizza circle. The chart is looking well-worn. The paper’s now wrinkled and battered around the edges as if she’d been folding it and unfolding it frequently. Studying it. Memorizing it. Preparing to make more predictions about me with it.
Cherise spreads the paper on my sewing table, knocking a spool of thread to the ground as she runs her hand over the page to smooth out the creases.
“See here, Sylvie,” she begins. Cherise has graduated from pointing at the chart with a simple pen, to some long fancy wooden pointer thingy with a cast silver hand on the end. The pointer part is a little hand with its first finger out and on the wee mini-nail is a small purple stone. I interrupt to ask Cherise where she got the pointer thingy and she tells me it’s a Jewish ritual object for reading the Torah, the first five books of the Bible written in scroll form.
Cherise isn’t Jewish and doesn’t own a Torah, or a Bible in any form. She’s told me before, “The world is my religion, the Earth my goddess.” Since my father has never taken me to a church, synagogue, or mosque of any kind, ever, who am I to criticize another person’s beliefs? We’re Christian, even though we never go to church. The only religious holiday we celebrate is Christmas. Cherise’s family commemorates Christmas, too, although Cherise would never say it’s because she’s Christian. Cherise chooses to call their tree a “Universal Evergreen of Everlasting Love.” Whatever.
“I think the pointer adds dignity to my astrological reading,” she informs me. Then adds, “Nathan Feldman lent it to me. He got it for his bar mitzvah. I think he’s still trying to get up the nerve to ask me out.” I laugh because Nathan Feldman has been trying to ask Cherise out since kindergarten. He often hovers, mutters, and retreats. Sometimes, he gives Cherise gifts or stuff for her to borrow as conversation starters, like today I suppose, when he lent her the pointer. Sometimes I just want to shake him and shout, “Get it over with already! Ask her out!” But I don’t and he won’t.
I’m of the opinion that by using the pointer on an astrological chart, Cherise is practicing some sort of sacrilege or mocking a Jewish religious object, but she looks so serious, I decide that voicing my concern would be tantamount to throwing our friendship out the window. I know with certainty that Cherise respects all people equally. There’s no way she’d intentionally mock someone’s faith.
“Nice purple stone,” I remark instead of saying what’s on my mind.
“Thanks. It’s amethyst, the stone of intuition.” She grins. “Now, about the prom. You can see that Aquarius is in your Fifth House.” She taps one of the drawn pieces of pizza with her pointer. “This is the house of Creativity and Sexual—”
Saved by the bell. The shop’s doorbell, that is! I don’t think I could have shot out of my chair and grabbed my crutches to answer the summons any faster if there was a supernova explosion under my feet.
Emerging from the back room, I discover Tanisha and Jennifer standing by the wedding dress. Once again, admiring it and probably dreaming about their own eventual nuptials.
“Hey,” they say simultaneously as I approach, slowly swinging on my crutches.
I don’t even have a chance to utter a few generic niceties before they launch into why they’re paying me another unexpected visit.
“Did you get a chance to look at the costume designs?” Jennifer asks.
“Yeah, did ya?” Tanisha leans in toward me.
“I—” Hmm. Not sure what to say. I still don’t have time to make those dresses, no matter how pretty they are. Then again, I suppose if I was going to the dance with Adam, I would like to wear the Cinderella costume, the whole “Prince Charming” thing being such big deal around school. The costumes would be glamorous and make a comedic statement at the same time. “I …,” I begin again.
“What costume designs?” Cherise sticks her head out of the back room where she’s clearly been eavesdropping on the conversation.
“I …” I’m starting to sound like a broken record.
“Ohhh,” Cherise says suddenly. I see her standing taller as she realizes that these “designs” were the reason Jennifer and Tanisha came into the shop this past Monday. And with that dawning realization, comes the knowledge that she saw me stash the drawings behind my father’s desk. Where they have remained ever since.
Cherise is behind the desk in a flash. Seconds later, she emerges with Jennifer and Tanisha’s three sketches in her hand.
“Wow,” Cherise says as she studies the wood nymph and its wings. “Oh my,” she gasps after seeing the Old English gown with its velvet and lace. And when she flips the page to the third, Cherise, for possibly the first time in her life, is speechless.
We all stand silently watching, waiting for her to speak. When she finally opens her mouth, Cherise dramatically clutches the pages to her chest, holds them against her heart, saying, “You have to make these costumes, Sylvie. You just have to.”
Jennifer jumps in. “Tanisha and I are road tripping. We’ve decided that to make these costumes work, we need to visit the best fabric store in all of Ohio. It’s a little shop near Case Western called Maude’s Materials.”
“I went there once with my mom when I was a kid,” Tanisha adds.
“My dad’s at a conference in Cleveland, so we’re catching the bus first thing in the morning and he’ll drive us back home early Sunday afternoon,” Jennifer tells us. Turning to me, she says, “We were going to buy the material as a surprise for you.” Jennifer is so pleased with herself, she’s glowing.
Tanisha adds, “While we’re in Cleveland, we’re going to tour the Case Western Reserve’s theater department. We’ve both been accepted to go to Case next year to study theater arts and costume design.”
“After we graduate, we’re going to open our own custom costume design shop.” Jennifer puts in. “We’ll call it ‘J T Designs.’ Isn’t that the bomb?”
“Yeah,” I softly echo. “The bomb.” I still haven’t agreed to make anything and already I’m feeling an unwelcome amount of pressure. “Look,” I tell them. “Your costume designs are really good, but I’ve no idea how I could possibly make them.” I mean I’ve already added a boyfriend to my very busy schedule. Making three dresses might be just the thing to put me over the edge.
“She’ll do it.”
My head spins entirely around in a move made famous by The Exorcist.
Cherise drapes one arm loosely around my shoulder and pulls me into a private corner. “The dresses are part of your destiny,” she tells me. “It’s no coincidence that the Fashionistas have handed you these drawings and asked you to create the costumes. It’s all part of what I wanted to show you this afternoon.”
With one hand on my back, Cherise leads me back into the sewing room, motioning for the other girls to join us. My crutches propel me forward as she escorts me back to my chair and picks up her Jewish pointer thingy. Jennifer and Tanisha have followed, obviously curious as to what Cherise wants to show them.
The whole Tanisha “fox purse incident” is apparently forgiven or perhaps forgotten the moment they get a first glance at the astrological chart Cherise’s drawn for me. For some crazy reason, the chart seems to raise her in their esteem. They don’t even seem to mind that she keeps referring to them as the “Fashionistas.” I think they might even like it.
Cherise quickly brings Jennifer and Tanisha up to speed in the predestined saga of Sylvie and Adam. I can tell by the looks on their faces, they are eating up this romantic tale of literally star-crossed lovers. She tells them that due to my Soul Urge number, 4, he’s asked me out, but that we haven’t determined where we’re going.
“Now, look here,” Cherise says, indicating a place on the chart with the pointer. “With Jupiter entering Scorpio, Sylvie’s love interest will take her to a familiar location and ask her an important question.”
“Cool,” gushes Jennifer, as she leans closer in to get a better look at my star chart. She asks to borrow Cherise’s pointer and then, as if the document is some rare, ancient piece of parchment, gingerly touches a pencil-mark notation that Cherise has made on one side of the pizza. “What’s this?” she asks.
“According to my mathematical calculations,” Cherise begins (and I’m wondering what Mr. Weston would say if he knew this is how his top math student is using her knowledge.) “Jupiter is moving into Scorpio at 7:03 Eastern Time tomorrow evening. Therefore, the important question will reveal itself between tomorrow night and noon on Sunday, when Jupiter will push forward into new territory.” She also explains how at the same time, coincidentally, one of Neptune’s moons will be on the rise. A specific indication that dancing is in my future.
“Well then, it’s a done deal,” Jennifer says, standing up straight and stepping back from the chart. She hands Cherise her pointer. “Adam’s going to ask Sylvie to the prom tonight.” They’re talking excitedly as if I’m not in the room.
“I get it.” Tanisha leans over the chart as if all the secrets of the universe are written there. “The love interest is clearly Adam. And the question will definitely be ‘Will you go to prom with me?’” With her hands on her hips, Tanisha stands up and declares, “We can triple-date to prom together! Now there’s no reason for you not to make the dresses.”
“Oh, please,” I retort. “I’d actually like it if Adam asked me to go, but I’m not going to agree to make three dresses in the next four weeks. As of now, I have no date and no time and I’m definitely not making this commitment based on how Jupiter is cycling.”
Cherise taps her chin with the pointer hand. “After Adam asks the important question, you will explore unexplored possibilities. Love must be that possibility because you’ve never explored it before.” Her voice becomes stronger, louder. “The chart’s meaning is obvious. By the night of the Spring Fling Prom, Sylvie will be in love.”
We’re back to where we started the day I lost my mother’s diamond, when Cherise first predicted I’d be falling in love. I mean, dating Adam has been nice and all, but it’s not the same thing as falling in love. This isn’t some fairy tale.
“Where are you going Saturday night?” Jennifer asks me. “It has to be a familiar place, right?” She looks to Cherise, who nods in agreement.
“I’ve no idea yet. And anyway, Adam might choose a new restaurant. Somewhere I’ve never been before. What would that do to your prediction?” I ask Cherise.
“He won’t,” is her reply and before I can counter again, my cell phone messaging alert goes off. I get up from my chair and skipping the crutches, hop across the room to grab my phone out of my purse.
It’s Adam.
I’ll pick you up at 6 for dinner. Movie after.
I reply with lightning-fast texting skills.
OK
I feel Tanisha, Jennifer, and Cherise gathering around me to read over my shoulder.
“Ask him where,” Jennifer tells me, right before I press the send button. I add:
Where?
I hope beyond hope that he says the name of a place I’ve never heard of. We’re all crowded around my phone’s little screen not so patiently waiting when the message is returned.
The Krnr Cafe.
And with that the conversation ends. I shut the phone and turn to face three high school seniors wearing identical grins.
“The Corner Café,” Cherise says, her smile so wide her cheeks touch her ears. “Not just any familiar place.” She smiles even wider if possible. “Your favorite place!”
“I’m sure I told him I like hanging out at the Corner Café,” I tell Cherise. “He probably picked it just to make me happy.”
“You can believe what you want to believe, but so far, I haven’t missed a single prediction.” Cherise turns away from me to face Jennifer and Tanisha. “Now, about those costumes,” she says. “You will, of course, be choosing organic materials in colors that have not been tested on animals. Sylvie will need hemp thread and chemical-free batting.…”
I flop back into my sewing chair and pick up the tuxedo pants I was working on. Apparently, I’m making Jennifer’s and Tanisha’s costumes after all. The three of them are so busy planning, any protest I might have would fall on deaf ears.
As I rethread my needle and return to hemming, I consider that if the stars aren’t dictating my life, then just maybe Cherise is.