When I woke up the next morning, I felt like I had just gotten off a roller coaster. Not the kind that made you sick and wanting to lay down, but the kind that made you feel exhilarated and ready for more adventure.   After all, I was getting a free first-class trip to my sister's wedding. I also had my months' hard work stored away in my suitcase.

     However, there was one thing that was bothering me. I still didn't know much about this Lance guy who was marrying my sister, other than the few details I got from my sister on the phone.

      If I am honest, I didn't know much about my step-siblings either. This wasn't a source of anxiety, however. I was actually looking forward to learning more about my extended family. I was to stay at my step-brother Ricks's house during the wedding. It seemed as tho I was one of the only step-siblings to end up in Chicago. It also seemed  I was finally getting the large family I wanted. However, there still seemed to be one issue.

      It's not my family

    Marriage, I won't lie to you. The idea of having a man around to at least help pay the bills was very... Intriguing. However, I couldn't dream about it much. "Life goes on" as they say, and life in California certainly did that. At the publishing office, I was beginning to make a name for myself as an extremely dependent employee. 

      That is when I didn't spend the days daydreaming about clothing and princes.

      I had on more than one occasion thought about how I could make a career there. It seemed beyond me, but I did find myself thinking now and then, about becoming a journalist or photographer. I had brought a few of the magazines from the office with me to read. Doing so I found myself reliving these thoughts. 

      I wouldn't have taken the picture like that... I probably would have used another descriptor than that word... The front cover could use a bit more pizazz.

      These thoughts and more came to mind as I read through the various articles and pictures of  the following week's release. Mostly I was trying to calm my nerves a bit.

      I had yet to meet this man who was to steal my sister away, and was nervous to meet an entire family I didn't know. I knew he came from an upper-middle-class family, and the groom had an elder brother and sister. There was a younger brother as well, but apparently, he was off in Vietnam fighting and was rarely heard from. My sister told me he was a bit of a "wild child", a greaser if you will. Of course, she only heard stories. I was not looking forward to meeting any of them. You must remember I grew up in the 50's and 60's. Where family heritage meant something and  I had very little to boast about.

      It was likely that I would be shunned as soon as they saw me.

      That's the spirit, Lynne. Put yourself down before you've even had a chance to prove your worth.

      As the plane landed I realized I hadn't been in this part of the country in a while.
  I was back in the Midwest. Milwaukee Wisconsin, of all places. I stepped out of the boarding area and into the main lounge, when all of a sudden I heard

       "Lynne, over here". I looked up. There was my unexpected welcome party. My sister, and to my surprise, 4 men. I recognized my older stepbrother Rick from the few times I met him as a teen. I was quite glad to see him, and then 2 tall lanky young men. Along with a very average-looking man in a dress shirt and pants.  My sister hugged me and very excitedly introduced me to her future husband. "This is Lance" she said. Beaming as she said it. He was well over 6 feet tall and lanky. He looked me up and down as if learning everything about me in those few seconds. I could tell he was untamed but really intelligent at the same time. My sister then told me he was an up-and-coming entrepreneur, and something about him made me feel she wasn't wrong.

      "Hello Lynne", came a surprisingly booming voice from the thin man named Lance. He wasn't as well dressed as the man I identified as average-looking, but he definitely seemed to be the kind of person who kept things clean and orderly. His jeans and shirt were spotless and fit his body perfectly. He wasn't handsome per se, but very well put together. The average-looking man was next. My sister was very pleased to introduce him.
 "This is Roger", she said. Her face getting red as she said.

      "How do you do", he extended a slightly sweaty hand. I shook it. He didn't say anything as he waited.

      What you have to remember is I had just spent a year living in the city of beautiful people where shyness wasn't exactly rewarded.

       I was instantly bored of Roger. Even though in the brief seconds of silence my sister mentioned that 
 "Roger works in a bank, and is very single".

     "What you kids have to remember is that in the 60's any kind of stable office job that had room for promotion was a good gig."           Roger would have no problem finding a wife. In that moment I severely hoped it wouldn't be me. I wanted excitement. I wanted an adventure. I wanted a Prince Charming.

      "Kids I look back at this moment and  I must say. Be careful of what you wish for. The next few moments would decide the rest of my life, and I had no clue just what a roller coaster of a life it would be. I was lucky, but some aren't as such."
       In those silent moments, I looked around. While I walked up to my greeting party. I had noticed. One of the men was quite tall. He had to be 6 and a half feet. Where originally I thought he was a bit skinny. I, upon closer inspection, realized that his arms and legs were long and thin but well-muscled all the same. Like a rod iron. Long but sturdy. I found myself looking for this man as I tried to avoid Roger's nervous gaze.
 "Where had he gone"? I wondered how such a large person could disappear. Then I saw him. Towering over three women. Smiling at them with more radiance than the sun in a tight tank top and jeans. I instantly hated all three of the women. The man named Lance called out. 
 "John boi. The girls been eying you for at least a minute". The man turned and looked back at us. Was it me or was the room getting larger? No, I was getting smaller. I didn't know much about physics but I briefly recalled some law saying that matter couldn't be destroyed. So how was the room getting smaller?

      The man didn't look perturbed at all, and said goodbye to the girls. I noticed they put a piece of paper in his hands and giggled. He began walking over. Physics aside I decided I was indeed getting smaller. This man was huge, and not to mention tan. He walked with ease but also with a bit of tension. Like at any minute he was prepared for a fight.

      In only a few long strides he reached us and held out his hand.
 "The names' John". Said the man. In an even deeper voice than his elder brother's. 
 "Lynne". I squeaked out. I screamed at myself to say something cool. Interesting, anything to keep the man's smile from disappearing. I had the feeling that if his smile disappeared then the whole world would freeze.

      "Umm, Im from California, well I moved there anyway. You see my parents are drunks and broke to boot". I began rambling. I told myself to stop, but that only made it worse. "I work for a magazine". No that wasn't good enough. Was the room getting hotter, and smaller?  Why was everything happening in slow motion? Someone needed to get Sir Isaac Newton, and Albert Einstein on the line because clearly, some force of nature was screwing up the Laws of Physics.

      My heart was beating faster. "Oh've heard of this before". I thought to myself, my panic started to fade as I realized the perfectly logical reason for my sudden symptoms...

       I'm having a heart attack. 
      My anxiety began to fade as the perfectly logical reason set it. Then I had the horrible realization that if I died. The man would certainly have cause to lose his smile. I made up my mind then and there. I couldn't die just yet.

      "Breathe, breathe girl. You can do this. Just get through this conversation and maybe just maybe you'll be able to live long enough to see your sister get married."

       A whole 5 minutes went by. Man the guy could talk, and I knew right then and there. I'd be more than happy to listen to him do so for the rest of my life.

      I have no real recollection of what he said. I managed to stave off a heartbeat of 250 beats per minute. It seemed as though I was capable of calming myself to a mild 185 beats per minute. We ended up getting in Lance's car. It was older but well-maintained. The average-looking man. What was his name? Roger, sat in the back next to me. His heartbeat seemed to be in the mid 3-400's. I could tell because he was actually sweating. The man who had my full attention rode shotgun, and my completely oblivious step sister rode on my other side in the back. Rick had his own car and led us to his house. 

      I stepped out of the car. Feeling as though a crushing weight had been lifted off of me. Strangely enough my life instantly felt lonely without that prescence. I was both relieved to be free of the pressure but felt oddly content in it's presence. At one point of the car ride I had made an attempt to make conversation. I asked if John had a car of his own.

      That sure got him going. He indeed was a bit of a greaser. He maneuvered so that he could pull his wallet out of his pocket while sitting down.  He then removed a picture of him and his dad standing next to what he called "Good oL American Muscle." I had heard of muscle cars before but didn't know much about them. In Chicago, you mostly walked everywhere, and in my area of California, everyone took the rail car.

        I looked at the picture. The man's dad was nearly as tall as him.

      "The whole family is a bunch of Sky Scrapers". The thought crossed my mind as I simultaneously realized I would most likely be doing a lot of looking up at people during the wedding.

      "That there is a 1970 Ford Torino Cobra. 429 cubic inches of Powa." He dropped the ER ending of the word and grunted out the ending. He seemed immensely proud of the automobile. Enough so that my blank stare didn't seem to deter his enthusiasm. All I knew about cars was that they were pricey, cost a lot of gas money to run, and were expensive to repair. Did I mention they weren't cheap?

      In a moment the man got ahold of himself. He turned back into the charismatic person I could tell he was. His incongruous outburst over. He began talking to his brother. I could tell he wasn't being rude. He seemed to be the type of person that would fill in the silence with his interests if no one else bothered saying anything.

      "All I have to do is talk and Im sure he'll respond to me."

The problem was that I couldn't think of anything to say. I noticed Roger was in the same boat I was in. Though I couldn't figure out why. 

      Am I all that intimidating?

        I could see where some of the tanned hotties at the beach, or even some of the high school cheerleaders at Michigan High. May make a guy nervous, but I failed to see how I would be capable of such. He squeezed in a comment here and there, but he was out of his league, competing with John for my attention, and he knew it.

     I looked at him feeling sorry for him, but after all.

      I had my own problems.

      After my failed attempt at conversation. John and Lance began talking about the current state of the country and the war effort in Vietnam. This was one of the first times I had ever been a part of this kind of conversation. Sure I didn't say anything, and I was pretty sure that the two men forgot I was there, but it was exhilarating all the same.

      I really am becoming an adult.

      I began running through all the words I could think of pertaining to that beast of a topic I had no interest in "The Economy". After all, why pay attention to something when you accounted for such a small part of it?

      Mutual Funds, Stocks, Investments, Corporations, Interests Rates, The US Treasury...

       It turned out I knew more than I expected. This kind of thinking was something I was prone to. I did relatively well in school but didn't have much time or energy for studying. During the majority of my adolescence. I did all of the cleaning, worked a nearly full-time job, and did well, almost everything else. I took more care of my parents than they ever had of me. Making sure they got up for whatever jobs they could hold, and retrieving them from the bars in the middle of the night to make sure they wouldn't cause a scene on their way home.

      That didn't exactly leave a lot of room for the more intellectual aspect of school. I treated my trade school classes with absolute importance, but whether or not I got a B vs an A on an English paper. Never really mattered to me. It simply wasn't important. Most of the "Studying" I did. Came in the form of private contemplation. On subjects I was interested in. 

      Unfortunately this secluded way of thinking. Didn't exactly train a person on how to engage in charismatic conversation. It turns out my intrapersonal communicative style. Didn't exactly cause a proclivity for the kind of social skills that would be necessary to talk to the man in the passenger seat. So I listened. 

      I listened to what he said all the way up until we got to Rick's house. I was so busy "Listening" to his words and definetely not to his deep voice. I didn't notice we had gotten there.

      "Lynne, Earth to Lynne." My elder step-sister snapped her fingers at me in an attempt to break my trance. 

      "OH, um. I guess I'll be going." I put on my best smile and tried to make the most out of exiting the vehicle. Unfortunately, rather than being a graceful exit, it was a clumsy extradition. As I almost immediately tripped on the curb. 

      The Vietnam Soldier was on his feet in an instant. The car door opened before I hit the ground and he grabbed my arm. Effortlessly pulling me to my feet. 

      "Up we go soldier." He smiled as he lightly dusted off my shoulders. 

      "I don't think I'll need a medic, a little R and R, and I should be good as can be Sir." 

      Did I just tell a joke? Oh please let it have been funny.

      The man smiled at me as I did an impromptu Salut. My shoulders held back and my head high as I did. That's right. I was a soldier on a mission, and my CO had just made this man's smile a very important person. It was my duty to keep it glistening for as long as possible. 

      Mission Success.

      This was a serious confidence booster. My sister knowing better kept her mouth shut and let me have my moment. Her husband-to-be wasn't as empathetic.

      "Kiss her or miss her John Boi. We got places to be."Said the, suddenly very, annoying husband to be.

      J ohn looked at me with that wonderful smile.

      "That wouldn't be a very gentlemen thing to do. Would it"? 

      "I guess not," I responded, slightly disappointed. 

       "I'll see you at the wedding." He said as he leaned over to get back into the car. 

      The wedding,

      That's right I had a golden opportunity to see this man again. My hesitation began to fade as hope rekindled. 

      "I'll see ya Lynne," Sue said impishly. Roger murmured a goodbye. Clearly disheartened at the scene that just played in front of him.

      "I'll see you to.... Randy." I almost whispered the words as I said them. Barely mustering a wave. I was still in shock and awe. With one hand as quick as a lynx he grabbed me and pulled me out of thin air. He literally swept me off my feet. 

      Marilyn Monroe, eat your heart out.

      I walked to the house and lay down. I had a lot to contemplate.

      With that. The following weeks went by relatively quickly. Filling the many monotonous hours with daydreams of beautiful dresses tended to make the days go by quicker. My fantasies were entertaining at the time but from the perspective of someone who knows about high-end fashion. My taste would most likely be considered bland. 

      This was all a moot point. Considering even after receiving my extra works pay. I would still have a rather abysmal amount of cash to spend. That didn't stop me though as I walked home each day. I found myself paying more and more attention to the dresses shining in the windows. 

      "Marilyn Monroe would look good in that one. OHHH, I can just see Raquel Welch in that one."

      What I didn't realize at the time was that all of my inner machinations seemed to focus on some other pretty woman in the dresses. It's almost as if my self-consciousness couldn't fathom the idea that I may be able to bring out their full potential. Despite this, my determination wasn't hindered in the slightest. For the first time in my life, I wanted something because. Well, I wanted it. I didn't need it, and it wasn't going to improve my life at all. I just wanted something of my own that was elegant. Just like the stars whose phones I used to connect.

      I was no Elizabeth Taylor, but maybe when I put on a dress fit for a star. I might just feel like her.

      As the days went on my purse began to fill up with my overtime pay. My daydreams seemed to be less a dream and more something that may become reality. In fact, it just so happened that I found the very dress of my dreams at a local store. It was on sale, about the most luxurious piece of clothing I could picture myself in, and after my shift at the Magazine Publisher's, it would be mine. 

    "  If only these next few hours would go by a bit quicker."

      I began to get a bit anxious as I sat at my desk. I wasn't one to quit work early. If there was a job to do. I made sure it got done. However, on this particular afternoon. I began to wonder just how much trouble I would get in if I slipped out early.

      "I'd probably get fired."

      After all, a nice boss only gets a person so far when it comes to pressing the rules. So with that in mind, I bade my time and tried to make the most of a very boring day ahead of me.

      I was very familiar with the concept that time slows down when you desperately want it to speed up. My parents often argued late into the night. During those late nights, I wanted nothing more than to fast forward through it all. I mean, most of my childhood was spent wishing I could grow up and move out, but those nights in particular were cruel.

      With that being said, I couldn't very well manipulate time. I could, however, manipulate my attitude. I decided I would have a productive rest of the day. 

      At precisely 3:59, having accomplished almost nothing that afternoon, I stood up to head out. Thankfully my boss had a business trip that day, and would only be getting back late that night. 

      "I'll make up the work on Monday".

      Little did I know, at the time, come Monday my life would be turned around forever.

      I walked out the doors and did not look back. After all, I had a very important meeting myself this afternoon.

     After getting off the railway, and walking for a few minutes. I was now standing in front of the boutique store I had been scouting. Sweating, not with the excursion of the walk, but with nerves. I reminded myself that I had saved up all the extra money I could, and now was the moment of truth. There was a gorgeous black dress in there that had been half off for over a week. I knew that because I had made fairly regular trips to the area. Non-shalantly trying to find a sale.

      "This is your moment Lynne. Go in there and get YOUR fancy dress."

      Apparently, my inner self-consciousness hadn't gotten the memo that I was no longer a low-self-esteem teenager. I wanted that dress and was going to get it. I had no talent for fashion and didn't even bother to pay attention to style or brand names. If it did the job it did the job, but even I knew this was a special gift.

      I steeled my nerves. 

      "You don't belong with the beautiful people." One of my mother's last words to me. Sang like a chorus in the back of my head.

      "Your Wrong".

      I clenched the fist that I still wanted to use to smack the witch and went in. 

       I did so with my shoulders back and head held high. 

      "Well hello honey." Said a well-dressed man, with a lisp, behind a desk. On an earlier excursion, I ascertained that he was the owner of the establishment. He didn't seem to recognize me, as he was invested in his reading material.

       "Oh my God, he knows I don't belong here." 

       I looked around and noticed I wasn't being kicked out. I looked at a shirt I hadn't previously seen and nearly passed out trying to read all of the digits on the price tag. My extra months' worth of overtime suddenly seemed like a drop in the pond. I looked at a pair of designer pants.

      "Drop in the Ocean is more like it... It's ok I prepared for this. That's why I chose the black dress on sale along the wall here... Wait, where is it? It was just here this morning. I stopped by the shop on my way to work this morning. It was right here against the wall."

       I looked side to side in a desperate attempt to quell the inner anxiety building inside me. 

      "It has to be here. It can't be gone."

      "Excuse me, sir," I asked the man behind the desk. He hadn't ever really spoken to me much on my scouting trips to the store, but he seemed nice enough.

      "Yes honey," He said lowering his glasses. He was viewing a magazine catalog and somehow acknowledged me with his full attention without lifting his gaze from its pages.

      "The black dress that was here. Do you know where it is?" My unfortunate habit of furling my hands nervously, and looking at the floor when I talked to people. Was on full display even as I desperately tried to hide my anxiety. 

      The desperation in my voice must have been evident because he looked up at me. 

      "Oh honey, that sold." He pursed his lips and honestly looked as though he felt bad. 

      "A cute little thing like yourself picked it up a few hours ago. Said she'd been saving up all week."

      "All week, I'd been busting my chops for almost a month."

      Despite the anger inside. I nearly cried. This was supposed to be the first time I was going to feel special. Not just be told by a clerk or cat-called by a construction worker, but actually be special.

      "I was going to be pretty in that dress walking up the aisle with the crowd watching. Wishing me a happy life with my new husba... Where did that come from."

      "Is there another one on sale like that one?" I asked still not able to quell my nerves. My hand was shaking as despair slowly started to overtake me.
      "Dang it second time in a month I gave away my intentions during a negotiation."

Something wet brushed my hand on it's way to the floor.

     "Was that a tear? It couldn't be. I've been through so much worse than this. It's just a dress after all."

   At that moment I once again recalled my mother telling me "I didn't belong with the beautiful people."

      "Drip. Drip... Yeah those are definitely tears forming in the corner of my eyes."

       I took a deep breath and tried to gather myself. I wouldn't turn into a dribbling mess in front of this man.
      "Are there any others on sale". I asked again barely able to keep the whimper out of my voice.

      "Sorry hon. That one wasn't just on sale. It was the sale." The man answered politely.

      "Oh, OK" I said. As I turned to walk out. I began to think of some alternative options.

      "Maybe the thrift store would have something befitting trash."

      At that thought. I didn't even try to hold back the welling tears. As I walked away and covered my eyes. As to not make a total fool of myself. The man spoke up.

     "But, you know what they say. Any publicity is good publicity. I can't very well let a young thing like you drapes yourself in someone else's fabric. Let's see what we got here in that same price range."

      He was obviously able to guess my plight. He picked out a similar dress that under scrutiny was actually more plush than the one I wanted.

     "Sir, I can't afford that." I showed him how much money I had. Forcing myself not to get over-excited. After all, there is no such thing as a free meal.

       He looked at the amount I had in my purse. Visibly twitching at the sight of my worn-down leather bag, but nonetheless keeping his opinions to himself.

      "Well, between you and I, you'd actually be doing me a favor if you bought this thing. Been hanging on the racks for months now. A constant reminder of my failure to create perfection."

      I couldn't believe it. In Chicago, I'd been chased off the subway because my ticket was a day expired. This man was insinuating that he'd sell me this luxurious dress for the little amount I had. 

      "If it seems too good to be true it usually is."

      I glowered suspiciously. I was from Chicago, and nobody did anything for free in the "Windy City".

      He noticed my hesitation and looked at me lowering his glasses again with a knowing stare. 

      "Honey, I'm a fashion designer in California. If I wanted women I'd have em." I didn't get it. He took my hand and surprisingly I was not alarmed. I sensed no maliciousness from him

      "Trust me, honey, you're not my type." I had no idea what he meant. I wasn't sure what type I was. As far as I knew there was only pretty and ugly. All the same, I couldn't believe it. This wonderful man was going to let me buy my perfect dress. I would be special after all!

      I began to recollect some of my daydreams of the past few weeks. Some involving a princess and...

      "Was he my Prince Charming?"

      I couldn't quite put my finger on why, but I decided that, as I was not his type, neither was he mine. I was so elated at the idea of getting an even better dress. I didn't much care for charming princes and fairylands. If need be, this princess would write her own story.

      "Thanks again sir," I said as I exited the building. Having happily handed over all the money in my purse. I was so happy I decided I'd walk home rather than take the railcar to my street. It's amazing how fast our emotions can flip. One second we're in tears. The next we're skipping down L.A. for several miles to get home in the most positive mindset we've ever been in.

      That night I laid my clothes out for the upcoming day of travel. I began thinking about where my slip-up in thinking came from. I mean I wasn't in the greatest mindset at the time, but at some point, I could swear I was envisioning myself not getting my dream husband. Why was this dress so important? I held the thing up and looked at it. Even after several hours I still couldn't hide my elation.

      "I mean yea she's beautiful but still. I'm not the one getting married." 

      I had to remind myself of that fact before I got too ahead of myself. At this point, I had the dress draped over my front and was looking at my reflection in the full-length mirror. 

      "MRS. Somebody, anybody, nobody? Way to spoil the mood Lynne."

        I had to laugh at that. After all, it's not as if a person's personality can totally change in a few hours. 

        After my roller coaster of emotions. I decided that was enough for one day. The mission was a success, and that is what mattered. I sighed. One step at a time. Smiling to myself I put the dress in the protective lining it came with, and carefully packed it.

      I decided while the dress was beautiful. It was my actions that led me to get it. There was a further lesson in there, but my exciting day began to take hold of me and I decided it was time for bed.

      I said goodnight to my prize and carefully zipped it up in my suitcase. I put on my pajamas, turned the light off, and went to bed. Dreams of chocolate pound cake and twirling dresses filled my head that night.

        .