7. fixing their clothes (hat, tie, etc.)
When Tiff promised this wouldn’t be tacky, Deb trusted her. (She trusted her the last time too, when they were younger, back when Tiff was packing bright pink blush on Deb’s cheeks in the church-halls. Tiff’s mascara was thick and clumpy and they looked monstrous to everyone but each other at the time, but Deb thinks on it fondly.) There’s the horrible noise of taffeta being tugged and adjusted, Deb standing almost perfectly still while Tiff hm’s and haw’s over her.
“I’m not gonna go if you make me wear this,” Deb smooths her hands over the hideous fabric - it bunches back up over her stomach and reflects the light from the green-glass lamp and it makes such an awful colour, too. Tiff scrunches her face at Deb’s frown, and her neck turns red when Tiff carefully places a necklace on her. (It’s cold against the flush of her neck, next to the awful taffeta and below the heavy makeup. Made of fake shimmery stones and dull gold sets. The red crawls up and stains her face.)
Deb doesn’t do well at parties - she doesn’t drink (just in case), and she wears bulky sweaters and giant glasses (it would make her mom proud). The invite felt heavy in her hands until Tiff offered to dress her up - it’s 6:15 pm and she’s routing through her closet and it makes Deb smile. “I look like a bridesmaid and you look….” She can’t find the words.