The Authentics by Abdi Nazemian

Author:Abdi Nazemian
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-05-29T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

I’D THOUGHT THAT HAVING A new granddaughter would have distracted Sheila from throwing my sweet sixteen party, but I’d thought wrong. If anything, it had galvanized her even more. After all, this gave her an opportunity to dress up not only her daughter, but also her granddaughter, and flaunt us both in front of all her friends. Which is why Sheila, Lida, and I were in the baby section of Barneys in Beverly Hills on Saturday morning, searching for an outfit for Rose. I was lost in a daydream, playing that kiss on the Ferris wheel again and again in my head. It felt like a dream, a very nice dream, which I was abruptly taken out of when Sheila hoisted a pink cashmere baby dress in my face. “Daria, for the last time, what do you think?” She demanded to know. “Isn’t it adorable?”

Still in my reverie, all I could manage was a feeble “Yeah, supercute.”

“Are you even paying attention, Daria?” Sheila asked. “This is your birthday we’re planning.”

“Oh, come on, Sheila,” I said. “We’re not planning it. You’re planning it. I hate my birthday.”

“Why would you say that?” my mother asked.

I thought for a beat. Why did I hate my birthday so much? I guess I hated how I had to pretend it was the best day of the year to make other people feel good. I hated all the obligatory Facebook birthday posts I had to “like.” Or maybe my birthday reminded me that I was born on the cusp of Aquarius and Pisces, so it was basically like the universe couldn’t make a decision about who I was supposed to be, and where I really belonged. But I didn’t say any of that. “I don’t know. I just do,” I said instead.

Sheila took a long breath, composing herself. “Look, I know you’re upset now, but in ten years, when you’re looking at the beautiful photos from the event, you’ll thank me.”

“Ten years,” I repeated, laughing. “Wow. Okay. So way over half my life from now, I’ll thank you.”

“Yes,” she said. “And when you look at those photos in ten years, you’ll love me even more if all our clothes don’t clash, so please help me pick the right outfit for Rose.”

I just shrugged, unable to hide my annoyance. Lida put a supportive hand on my arm, and then, probably afraid of being accused of taking sides, put one on Sheila’s arm as well.

Sheila gently pushed Lida’s hand aside, and announced, “I’ve already decided that I’m going to wear my new red Valentino with the black-and-white flowers. You, well, I was thinking you should be in white, and Rose can be in this—”

“She’s a baby,” Lida interrupted, taking in the dress Sheila was holding up. “Why would you buy cashmere for a baby? She’s just going to spit up all over it.”

“She’s only going to wear the outfit once,” Sheila replied, as if this were obvious. Then she shifted her attention to a pink infant headband, bedazzled with rhinestones.

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