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Time To Dress For Church, Lazybones

“Are you ready?”

Trilby opened her weary eyes. As usual, everything was a blur. Without her glasses on, life was a confusing impressionist tableau. “Marta? What are you talking about? Ready for what?”

“Church, of course.”

“Church? Who said anything about going to church? Is the sun even up?”

“C’mon, sleepyhead.” Marta handed Trilby her glasses. “Up and at ‘em.”

She slipped her glasses on and looked at her friend. She was dressed in her Sunday Best with a definite Christmastime flair. Her hair was done up in a retro style that Trilby hadn’t seen her wear before. Marta usually wore it down straight or occasionally in a ponytail or braids. This was more like somebody from a 50’s sitcom and she had sprigs of holly pinned to her ribbon-curled hair. Her skirt suit was hunter green with red piping and she had a cherry red blouse. Her cat-eye glasses had red frames with little Christmas trees at the corners.

“Are you supposed to be the Ghost of Christmas Present?”

“If you ever came to church you could see how I dress for formal occasions. You like?”

“You’re stunning.”

“I know. Now, let’s get you ready. I let you sleep in so you’d be more cooperative.” She grabbed Trilby by her shoulders and yanked her upright.

“Can I have some chai first?”

“I figured you’d say that. Sit up.” Marta spun away to grab a tray table. “Chai, scrambled eggs, sausage medallions, toast and jam. Eat up. We need to make you presentable.”

“Wow, who needs Jeb? I ought to marry you.” Trilby dug in.

“You’d have a better chance.” Marta crossed her arms and waited impatiently for her friend to finish eating breakfast. “Done?”

“Yes, thank you!” Trilby began to slide back down into her bed.

“No, thank you! Get up. Time to dress for church, lazybones. There’s no point spending all that money at the boutiques for attire to impress somebody you won’t get to see.”

“Where am I going to see Jeb?”

Marta clenched her fists and waved them wildly over her head. “At church! The man goes religiously.”

Trilby yawned and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “How else would you go?”

“What?”

“You said he goes religiously. How else would you go to church?”

“Forget the chai. I’m going to pour espresso down your throat if you don’t wake up and get with the program!”

“Alright, alright. I’m up. Let’s do this.”

“Good morning, Trilby. Don’t you look lovely? I’m so glad to see you this morning.” Pastor Greg smiled.

“Thank you, Greg.” Trilby winced in reaction to the jab she received from Marta’s elbow. “Pastor Greg.”

Marta shook her head in dismay as she locked elbows with Trilby and dragged her into the nave. “Look, Mom and Dad saved us some space.”

Trilby scanned the congregation and found Jeb. Her knees began to buckle.

He was about as formal as he was likely to get. He had a green mock turtleneck with a patterned cardigan. He had trimmed his hair and beard a bit, but he still looked like a rustic angel to her.

Speaking of angels, who was that sitting in the pew with him? Her flossy blond hair was brushed and teased out like an 80s prom queen. Her huge doe eyes were almost the exact same shade of green as Jeb’s shirt. Her cheeks were so rosy in contrast with her sugar cookie complexion. That lipstick was as brilliant red as the holly berries pinned to Marta’s hair. A cheap, dollar store angel who totally needed to have a ten foot tree jammed up her…

“Marta!” Trilby plastered a fake smile on her face. She stopped and shoved her friend into a pew. “Sit here!”

“But Mom and Dad are right there. Who sits in the back?” Marta tried to shove her way back out of the pew. “What are you, an Episcopalian?”

Trilby tipped her head in Jeb’s direction. “I want to sit here and keep an eye on her!”

“What the heck is she doing here?”

Trilby drove her shoulder into her friend to plow her back into the pew. “Here? She’s going to church like everyone else. The real question is what the heck is she doing there?” She slapped her hands over her mouth. “Am I allowed to say heck in church?”

“Only if you want to go there.”

“I guess I’m in good company then.”

“Well, stop with the body checking. You’re going to muss my hair.”

“I’m gonna give you a black eye if you don’t stop fussing. I don’t want him to know we’re back here watching him.”

“The whole reason you came here was for him to see you in your new outfit.”

“Well, that was before I saw her there making her move on him.”

“She’s on the far end of the pew, Trilby. She’s got to sit somewhere.”

“As long as she stays there. With all the standing up and sitting down between hymns and readings, I can see her slowly migrating over toward him.”

“Because that’s what you’d do.”

“You’d better believe it.”

“She doesn’t do what you do. If she was coming on to him, she’d be sitting right next to him. She’s going to stay right there and mind her P’s and Q’s, Trilby.”

“I don’t think so. She’s going to booty bounce her way across that pew. If she’s not in the middle of the pew by the Gospel reading-”

“What? You actually want to bet on this? In church?”

“You name the terms.” Trilby was watching Aundrea like a hawk.

“Winner gets a foot massage from the loser.”

“Done. I’m going to need it after an hour or two in these shoes.”

“I told you to break them in, Trilby.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re going to be giving me a foot massage when this is all over. Can you even believe the nerve of that hussy?”

“Again with the jealousy? He’s not yours yet. Until he says you’re going steady, you have no right to be jealous. That’s actually kind of creepy, Trilby.”