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I got home and took a shower, spending way too long trying to style my hair. It refused to hold a curl or do anything but hang stick straight. As a last resort, I put it up into a French braid.
The swelling in my face had gone down a bit, but no amount of makeup would hide the black eye. Instead, I went heavy on the eyeliner and some dark-purple eye shadow to even things out.
With that done, I stared blankly at my closet. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d worn anything even close to formal. I don’t usually hang with the evening gown crowd. Galas, fundraisers, and holiday soirees aren’t my scene. I prefer to be low-maintenance and casual, for which Juanita gives me no end of grief.
After twenty minutes, I settled on an indigo dress that hadn’t seen the light of day for years. I u
