Chapter 3 Mermaid Skirt

Mermaid Skirt

The image in the mirror stared sadly back at Georgette, as she tried to gauge what in her physical appearance kept her from being the heart of perfection. Could it be that her hair was too deep a shade of raven black? Or that it was too unruly and curly, swaying down to the small of her back? It was so long she could faultlessly re-enact the famous ride of Lady Godiva, wearing not one stitch of clothing, using her long hair to cover the delicate areas whose exposure society frowned upon. Her frame was petite and almost delicate like a calla lily, but she possessed the strength and determination of a mighty oak.

She knew she could stare at herself for hours and never find the perfection she so desperately sought. A swift shimmer of light flashing in the mirror reminded her that she needed to finish dressing, because Martin would be arriving soon. She had begged off, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He thought that the quicker she got out and mingled in the social world, the sooner the pain would ease. Like he was fond to point out—Trip wasn’t going to sit around and pine for her, so why should she give him that honor.

On her bed, spread out like funeral attire was the source of the shimmer of light that reflected briefly in the mirror. Staring down at it with regret, Georgette wished she hadn’t of been so easily persuaded by the vivacious saleslady at the dress boutique to purchase such a flamboyant gown. The source of the shimmering was a multitude of sequins in iridescent shades of blue and green covering the boned bodice of the gown. Even the thin spaghetti straps were encased in sequins. The skirt was made of black satin and embellished with deep green and blue sequins. But what made the dress so unique was the shape of the skirt. The hem was cut in a pointed shape at each side of the dress, giving it a fish tail—the illusion that it was tailored for a mermaid. A pair of black fishnet sleeves decorated with black pearls and sequins completed the dress. They were to be worn like gloves with a braided loop at the end for the middle finger to slip through.

After she dressed, Georgette had to admit that the saleslady was correct—the dress was a perfect fit. It looked spun directly onto her body by little sea horses. If she became overly bored at the party, she could slip into the pool and sing like a siren, luring men to their doom. She laughed at that thought. The one man she wanted was immune to her charms.

Georgette stared for a long time at her reflection, hypnotized by the glamour and wishing Trip could see her now with her hair loose and falling everywhere, reflecting the sparkle of the sequins. If she closed her eyes, she knew she would be able to feel his hands caressing her hair, wrapping strands of it around his fingers, and whispering how he adored the softness of it. With effort, she fought the urge to drift down memory lane, because time was ticking and Martin would be there soon to whisk her away to the ball.

The thought of letting her hair loose and free was too much painful to consider. Though she was determined to be free of Trip’s influence, she knew that baby steps were needed, so she braided her hair like usual and wound it around her head, pinning it up with rhinestone clips. A few curls escaped but on an impulse, she let them enjoy freedom. Georgette sprayed a cloud of perfume into the air and walked through it, just as the doorbell rang announcing Martin’s arrival. As she walked to the door to let him in, she prayed that she wouldn’t feel like a fish out of water at the party.