The End of an Era

“Don’t try it,” she warned, curling her lips into a smile despite her harsh tone, “you break it, then you buy it.”

“Come on, Delilah, I’m gentler than a field mouse,” returned the enthusiastic Dottie, continuing to fiddle with the silvery band.

“Still, if Johnny finds out I’m even letting you touch it, heck, he spent his whole paycheck on this thing...”

Delilah liked to worry about things. Her earlobes were constantly red from tugging, and sometimes, she pressed buttons against the insides of her cheeks because her teeth nipped at the flesh too much. Once, Dottie teased that she hated spending money so much that she might as well freeze her credit cards. Delilah scrimped and saved and went without to have new dresses. She held in her love, always afraid to get hurt, which is why everyone was so surprised when she announced she had found a husband before any other girls her age.

Dottie was almost the exact opposite. She gave out affection and coins like Halloween candy without expecting anything in return. However, she was not jaded by the wealth she had or kindness she was shown. When she first met Delilah, they had been just children, pigtails and strawberry pink dresses, blue tongues singing summer. Sometimes, she was still that little girl with big dreams and wide smiles ready to break out at any moment.

“When did he pop the question?” Dottie’s question did flips on tongue, she was so desperate to ask it.

“Just two nights ago, outside the gazebo. Oh, it was so lovely. And the ring is so darling.”

“Where from?”

Delilah held her breath, building up suspense for the big reveal, “Martin’s.”

“No!” Dottie gasped.

“Yes!”

“When are y’all gettin’ hitched. I’ll send out all the invitations.” The blonde leaned over the console. "Oh, can I be your maid o’ honor, 'Lilah?”

Delilah's eyes widened to saucers, and she fumbled for words, "Well, you see, it's gonna be the week after graduation."

“Hah, tell that to my mama who said high school flings don’t last.”

Dottie's thoughts flickered through her mind faster than bunnies with ADHD, and she quickly forgot about being the maid of honor or even asking where the wedding would be held. She swigged the last of her glass bottled Coke and let her eyes roam the landscape beyond the car.

"You make sure Johnny treats you right, got it?" Dottie instructed.

"He's wonderful, what do you mean?"

If Delilah had pearls to clutch, she would have been a model southern belle. Her cheeks were flushed in the May heat, her pupils reflecting Dottie's thin silhouette, and her slightly wrinkled bubblegum pink skirt fluttering in and out of frail, bony fingers. Dottie's cheekbones could cut glass, as her brother used to joke, but they were hidden behind a pale unadorned hand and a golden ponytail.

"I dunno, some boys look all nice. Like...well, remember your daddy-"

Delilah, face burning in fury, nearly slapped her best friend, "Don't you dare talk about my father. Ever."

"I'm sorry," Dottie's mouth formed a solemn line, plump lips cresting inward, "I'm real sorry."

"Me too."

If Delilah had the nerve, she would have stomped out of the Chevy and ran to find Johnny.

"I just meant that after everything your mama's been through, you'd wanna think about who you're tying yourself to," Dottie mumbled slowly, brushing flyaways out of her green eyes.

"I've already got the ring on my finger, I love him," she was not sure who she was convincing, Dottie or herself, and she was not sure who believed her, if either.

"Really?" Dottie pressed on, confidence growing like a weed. "'Cause you don't sound like it."

"Dottie, I swear if you don't stop questioning my life, you won't be in it!"

Both girls froze because when they had been young, they had been taught that words were the most powerful weapon of all. The lesson had disappeared into the recesses of their minds, popping in once in a while. Now, they truly felt the weight of Delilah's warning crushing them. Instead of breaking down and letting her best friend leave, Dottie let impulses carry her the rest of the way.

"Sorry," her voice nearly broke, but she got the syllable out in a rush, vastly different from her usual drawl.

Then, she pressed matte pink lipstick against soft cherry red ones. Delilah likes to worry, Dottie knows this. Dottie knows she did something wrong, so she backs off faster than a soldier running from a bomb.

Delilah found her nerve. She did not give Dottie's wide, hopeful green eyes a single look before shoving the door open and taking off. Dottie could not hear anything except the rush of her own heartbeat in her throat and the low humming of the stereo.