Hello, I’m April. My spouse, Mark, and I divorced six years ago. He was fast on his feet. And by “quickly,” I mean three months after our divorce papers were finalized, he was seeing Cassandra, the type of lady who greets you as if she were doing you a favor. Her smile never quite makes it to her eyes, and she talks as if every word were being recorded for a podcast.
I’ve managed to keep things amicable for our daughter, Lily, even though she and I have never gotten along.
Now seventeen, Lily is more intelligent, considerate, and self-aware than the majority of adults I know. She is getting ready for college in the fall after graduating from high school this spring. In between her part-time job, SAT preparation, and classes One evening, as I stirred spaghetti sauce, she held up her phone and said, “Look at this, Mom.” The garment was stunning, with delicate beading and a waterfall of soft satin that glistened like the night sky. It was the type of dress you might see on the red carpet or in the fantasies of adolescence.
The price sticker said $999.99 as well.
The sting hit me instantly. I have two jobs. Every dollar has a voice. Bills, groceries, and rent. Extras are generally not in the cards, even ones this special.
I tried to conceal the knot in my gut as I said, “It’s beautiful, sweetheart.” Her excitement seemed to fade a bit, as if someone were gradually lowering a spotlight.
As she pretended to scroll, she muttered, “I know it’s too much.”
I sat at the kitchen table and stared at that outfit once again that night, long after she had gone to bed. I was reminded of something by its nuances and silhouette.
of a person.
Mom.
When I was just 10 years old, she taught me how to sew. It wasn’t about inventiveness back then. It was essential. We created anything fresh that we desired. She had faith in the kind of love that manifested itself through hard work, through late-night hours spent hunched over a sewing machine with painful fingers and tired eyes.
So I thought of something.
With a mug of coffee in one hand and hope in the other, I knocked on Lily’s bedroom door the following morning while still in my pajamas.
What if I made a dress for you? I inquired. One that is identical to the one you showed me. Together, we could design it.
She blinked. “You create dresses?”
I grinned. “I did once. The antique sewing machine is still with me. It may be enjoyable.
She paused. “However, what if it appears to be homemade?”
I replied, “It will be.” However, homemade does not equate to inferior. It means “made with heart.”
After a moment of silence, she gently nodded. “We should try.”
So we started.
Our living room became a miniature fashion studio over the course of the following few weeks. The sofa table was strewn with thread spools, sketchbooks, and fabric swatches. We decided on a satin that was delicately shimmering and rose-gold. Lily desired something classic and refined. I desired something.
I used my credit card to order the cloth and hoped to work extra to help pay for it later.
I came home and sewed every night after my second shift. Despite being neglected for years, my hands were still able to recall the rhythm. Lily occasionally sat next to me as I completed my homework. At other moments, she observed silently.
One evening she remarked, “When you sew, you look serene.”
“Yes,” I said. “Especially when I’m making you a garment.”
Three arduous weeks later, the dress was finished.
Then one Sunday morning Lily gave it a try. Her eyes were wide as she turned slowly in front of the mirror. Like a dream, it fit.
“Mom… I seem to be in a movie,” she said. With tears burning in the back of my eyes, I remarked, “You look like it too.”
The storm then arrived.
I was hand-stitching the final bead into the hem the night before prom when we heard heels clacking up our front path. My stomach twisted as I peered out the window.
Cassie.
With flawless makeup, a white clothing bag in one arm, and a fancy purse draped over the other, she appeared to be trying out for a part as she stood on our porch, beaming as though she had won something.
Before she could knock, I opened the door.
She said, “April!” with sweetness. “I gave Lily a small surprise!”
Behind me, Lily showed up with her eyebrows up.
What is happening? She enquired.
“I simply couldn’t allow my girl to attend prom without looking her very best,” Cassandra grinned as she theatrically unzipped the suitcase. The $1,000 expensive garment Lily had shown me was inside.
With a condescending smile, he continued, “I heard you were stuck wearing some… homemade thing.” “You don’t have to now!”
It had a punch-like sensation. Wondering what Lily would say, I glanced at her.
She was silent for a while. She merely gazed at the gown. Next, at me.
In an unintelligible voice, she told Cassandra, “It’s really pretty.”
“I was sure you would adore it,” Cassandra exclaimed. “I received the money this morning from Mark. And I’ve already made an online post about it! My buddies are all very excited to see you in it.
The house was quiet after she left.
“Are you alright?” I inquired.
Lily gave a nod. “I simply need to think,”
It was prom day. Without inquiring about her dress preference, I assisted her in getting ready. With shaking hands, I put on her makeup, curled her hair, and secured her jewelry.
“Thank you, Mom,” she said quietly. For everything. I am aware that this wasn’t simple.
I said, “You’re worth it.”
To get dressed, she vanished upstairs.
She arrived twenty minutes later wearing the dress I had sewn, a vision of pride and beauty, the rose-gold satin glistening with every stride.
You chose mine? Stunned, I inquired.
“I did, of course,” she said. It was lovingly made. There was a price tag on that other dress. A part of you is in yours.
She then displayed her phone to me. The post from Cassandra said:
“I’m very proud of Lily—she looks amazing in the dress I got her as a surprise tonight! I can’t wait to watch her shine!
Lily grinned. “A surprise is in store for her.”
We took a car to school. And there she was, Cassandra, waiting for a photo session outside the doorway, with her phone in hand and two chic friends at her sides.
Her face sank as she saw Lily.