Alpha Omega M.D. – Episode #30
… Princess Olla holds up the Paris creation against her body, not about to let on that she herself has spent time wearing it…
That same Friday night, in the less contentious environs of Tallahassee, society’s’ finest prepare for tomorrow and the anticipated Summer Cotillion. It unofficially marks the average annual easing of the “lazy days”, as the sun mercifully starts to drop from its zenith overhead. Shadows begin to lengthen and the dogs come out from under their back porch.
Martha Ferrell prepares for the event by unpacking her favorite gown, first checking for damage from last year’s gala, i.e. footprints on the hem from ballroom challenged partners, or traces of champagne and hors d’oeuvre or third most likely culprit, moth-eaten holes. Lastly, and most important of all, the issue of whether her six gallons fits into this five gallon satin container.
“What do you think, Agnes?” She does an awkward pirouette in the dress, tailored for her six years ago; a present honoring her fortieth year.
“Maybe we could let out the sleeves some. It looks tight above the elbows.”
“Yes I think you are right.” She confirms the mirror’s reflecting truth, without vain regret.
Agnes is wearing a gown that her mother wore the year before she was born. She has matured at an scary rate, nearly… no definitely surpassing mom’s womanhood; filling in the spaces and providing the kind of cleavage that may well cause the hormone levels of men aged twelve to infinity to rise measurably.
“My, haven’t you blossomed, my dear. Girls are developing faster every year, it seems,” Martha concludes correctly.
Two generations of “real” women are joined by an admirer of both.
“Why Nessie, I remember your mamma when she wore that dress, her first Cotillion I reckon. So beautiful and so graceful,” He muses, then reconsidering, “But you better wait some years before you become a mother. If you weren’t my daughter, I would guess you for a twenty year old college girl. You are saving yourself, aren’t you?”
“Oh, Daddy,” Agnes (Nessie) blushes, which rhyme with messy, a nickname, as well as her bedroom comportment, “of course I am. You don’t allow me to have suitors!”
“All right, point well stated.” She is behind many of her peers and he knows it. “It’s just that you look so grown up.” John turns his attention to his wife. “And as for you my dearest, forget about altering your dress.” He peeks around the corner, into the hall to motion to Olla. “I think this one will assure of being belle of the ball.”
Olla displays the Paris creation, this time merely holding it up against her body, not about to let it be known that it was her own very skin which spent time as Martha’s surrogate mannequin.
The new owner rushes to it, stroking the rose colored satin, admiring the Parisian lace and trying not to shed tears of joy.
The incredible irony of the moment is lost on the ignorant.
“Oh mother, you must try it on straight away,” encourages Agnes.
Before she obliges, Martha turns to say, “John Ferrell, life with you is one big surprise.”
John Ferrell is telling himself, ‘Wheeewww, I’m sure glad she will never know the truth’.
Princess Olla/Laura Bell mutters, “Surprises ain’t always good ones, Miss Martha,” under her breath.
Alpha Omega M.D.