Prior Engagement

21.13. Hey, are you coming?

21:26. Should I just wait here, or

21:45. Hey!!

18:04. Shoes, pants, dress shirt – not fully buttoned, they enjoyed projecting a slutty look – jacket. Black socks. Pops wouldn’t allow anything less. He still gave a little huff when Ezra flew around the house in their inappropriately buttoned shirt. But fine, he would relent, if only because it was important to give children space to explore and rebel. And of course, this meant that Ezra rarely had reason to rebel. It was perfectly symbiotic.

They dashed into their bedroom, feeling along the Persian rug that hung on the wall, gave a thumbs up to Mr. Tiger lying on his regular shelf above the desk. The room was its usual eclectic mess, a mishmash of burned sienna, terracotta, auburn. Orange suited them. They had a corsage here somewhere, pops had made one for the occasion. what are you going to wear, they had texted her a week ago. a dress, obviously, ha ha, can you imagine? but color? fabric? Pops wants to know.

They had waited a week, stopping every impulse to double text her, jumping every time the phone chimed, deflating immediately when it was just another ad or sale or Jacob taking up space. They had texted her Tuesday, and the phone finally chimed with the special ringtone they had ended up setting just for her (Satie’s Gymnopédie no. 1, because she had sent them a clip of her playing it on the piano once). Hi. It’s sage. Broderie Anglaise.

She would look stunning, Jesus Christ. And pops had gotten to work, making the perfect arrangement. Lots of leaves in a cool frosty green, interspersed with baby’s breath and lavender. Ezra preferred warmer colors, but still pinned a sprig of lavender to their lapel. They needed to match, they wanted everyone at school to know that they were an item. They were an item, they had to be.

17:59. The dress wasn’t new, she’d pulled it from her army of frocks. It still looked new though, she’d only worn it once at a garden party, say six months ago? Papa would rather her just get something new than wear something to an event twice. But it was perfect. Nothing too ostentatious, nothing that would stand out too much to Ezra’s friends. But still pretty, with its long skirt and revealed shoulders. She had a sheer wrap that was meant to go with it, but why should she bother? This wasn’t a garden party.

It had been difficult arranging this, but she was beginning to feel butterflies fluttering in her stomach. It could be good. Could even be fun. Prom. She’d never been to prom, her school didn’t have anything of the sort. No point, if the girls couldn’t bring dates. It could be fun. Normal. Kids her age went to prom. It was normal.

She closed the door on her walk-in closet and sat down at her little vanity, her array of makeup lined up in front of her. Lipsticks, brushes, some palettes for eyeshadow. She usually went light on the makeup, sticking to a red lip. Never at school, of course, but she liked the sensation of wetness on her lips. Call it rebellion. Although Papa minded a lot of things, he had never once had an issue with her lipstick. Chanel Rouge Coco 494 Attraction.

She went just a little heavier tonight. Emphasized her heavy lids with a heavier dark brown, blushed up her cheeks, put mascara on. The trademark lipstick. Why not? She didn’t look whorish, but older. Refined. Too refined? Was it appropriate for the event? Or would she look overdressed and over styled? Should she keep her hair down, for the whimsical look? Make herself look younger with braids? Ezra had talked about this for weeks, it had to be perfect.

18:50. Hair was finally done. Slicked back, but with a few mischievous curls bouncing back onto their forehead. Not too posh, but not too irreverent. They gave their reflection a wink. Looking good, pal. For the final touch, they drew a thick line of eyeliner underneath their lower lash line and smudged it. Pirate-y, ahoy mate! they thought and snickered to themselves. Silly. Avant-garde was a better term. That’s what pops would call it.

“Ezra!” they heard pops call out from his atelier, as if he knew Ezra was thinking about him. “You’re keeping track of time now, right? It’s almost seven!”

“Yeah yeah, don’t worry! I got it!” Ezra jumped out of the chair and gave their shoes a cursory look. Shiny! Pops had been up late last night shining them up. Good ol’ pops, he really did a lot. Should tell him that, Ezra thought. Let him know, in some subtle way, that he was appreciated. It would have to come later, though, Ezra was running out of time. They were supposed to get on their bike and pick her up at half past seven, make it to the prom at eight. It had already started at seven, but who came to prom on time? Not Ezra, that’s who.

Oh! One last thing. They dug through a pile of decorative pillows, checked beside the ashtray with their pipe, moved a stack of old vinyl records from the desk and finally found what they were looking for tossed next to the broken yet decorative oil lamp on the bedside table. Sighing in relief, they unbuttoned their pants and got their packer in place. There. Perfect. Their girlfriend (Girlfriend? Friend? Acquaintance?) already knew that it was fake, but she didn’t mind at all. She understood their commitment to aesthetics. She was cool, that way. The coolest girl they’d ever met.

19.23. She was ready. She had decided on a low bun in her neck, but with disobedient little locks falling out of it. It struck a balance, she hoped. A proper bun, but with youthful whimsy. Now she just had to get out without Papa noticing she was gone, and Ezra would pick her up. They would have an extra helmet for her, she’d ride on their bike with her hands wrapped around their lanky waist, feel the stringy muscles there, and they would be at the normal prom for normal kids. Jacob would be there too, Ezra had assured her. They could be a unit, the three of them. She wouldn’t be stranded. It would be fun. And she would be back home in time. Papa would never have to know.

But when she left her room, Papa was already in the hallway, taking his coat off. Her breath hitched in her throat. No no, that was all wrong. He had a late night. That’s why she had said yes. He had a late night, so he shouldn’t be home.

He raised an eyebrow at her, as she stood dumbly in the corridor. “Why are you all dressed up?”

She scrambled her brains for words. “I… I just thought-“

“Good, anyway. We’re going out.” He hung his coat up. Flicking a miniscule speck of dust from its sleeve. “I’m just going to change, then we’re leaving.”

“Leaving where?”

“Da Capo. I figured we would have dinner out.”

“Oh! Oh, I…”

“You what?” he said, and she heard the note of annoyance in his voice. Don’t ask so many questions, just smile and nod. Don’t be ungrateful. He was already heading towards his own bedroom, done with the conversation.

“I can’t. Not tonight.”

He stopped. “What do you mean, you can’t?”

“I-“

“Do you have a prior engagement?” The signs were there now, that he was getting irritated. His forehead was tense, a twitch at his fingers.

“…No. Of course not.” Her phone. Her phone, it was still in her bedroom.

He was silent for a moment, looking at her with exasperation. And after brief contemplation, decided not to press the issue further. “Well. You’re already dressed, so get your coat and wait by the elevator.”

Fuck. Fuck. She couldn’t get her phone, she couldn’t push this. He was already annoyed, but she could still save this. Just don’t push further.

19.29. Heyyy, im here

19.32. im outside so….. whenever ur ready

19.38. are u ok??

21.13. Their phone chimed. Jacob. Ezra stared at the message, and then tossed the phone onto their mattress. She hadn’t showed up. She hadn’t texted them, or called, or anything. And now Jacob was hounding them, too. Whatever. They didn’t care. He could have fun without Ezra, why did he always need them as a fucking crutch? Whatever. It was cool. Whatever.