"What do you think about this one?" Blanche says, pointing to a gold lame halter top dress that Rose thinks would end slightly above Blanche's pubic bone if she were to wear it.
Rose tries for tact. "Isn't it, um, a bit short?"
"Nonsense," Blanche says and wheels herself over to finger the fabric. "Doesn't matter anyway. The bottom half of the casket will come up to my navel. I could be completely nude underneath. Hey, now, there's an idea."
Rose tries; she really, really tries not to let Blanche know how much these funeral plans upset her, but Blanche must see something in her face. "What is it, honey?" she says. "Rose, what's wrong?"
"What's wrong? What's wrong? What's wrong is that we're picking out clothes for you to be dead in!" Rose balls her hands up into fists and tries not to cry. "And I don't understand why you even want me here. Shouldn't Rebecca and Janet be helping you with this?"
Blanche sighs. "I'm sorry, Rose. I know this must seem morbid to you, but it's important to me. Janet would lay me out in some god awful twin piece I wouldn't be caught dead in, and Rebecca would have me buttoned up to the chin and down to the ankles. No, thank you. I love my daughters, Rose, I do, but I have always lived my life on my own terms, and I'm gonna die on them, too." Blanche smiles a watery smile and holds out her hands to Rose. Rose takes them. "You are one of the best friends I've ever had, Rose. You and Dorothy and Sophia have meant the world to me. I know it's selfish of me, Rose, and maybe it's too much to ask, but I can't think of anybody that I want at my side here at the end more than you girls."
Rose squeezes Blanche's hands. "Then that's where we'll be." Rose wipes her eyes, they browse for a few more minutes in silence. "Hey," Rose says, taking a dress off the rack. "How do you feel about sequins?"
Okay, this is sadder than I meant it to be
Rose tries for tact. "Isn't it, um, a bit short?"
"Nonsense," Blanche says and wheels herself over to finger the fabric. "Doesn't matter anyway. The bottom half of the casket will come up to my navel. I could be completely nude underneath. Hey, now, there's an idea."
Rose tries; she really, really tries not to let Blanche know how much these funeral plans upset her, but Blanche must see something in her face. "What is it, honey?" she says. "Rose, what's wrong?"
"What's wrong? What's wrong? What's wrong is that we're picking out clothes for you to be dead in!" Rose balls her hands up into fists and tries not to cry. "And I don't understand why you even want me here. Shouldn't Rebecca and Janet be helping you with this?"
Blanche sighs. "I'm sorry, Rose. I know this must seem morbid to you, but it's important to me. Janet would lay me out in some god awful twin piece I wouldn't be caught dead in, and Rebecca would have me buttoned up to the chin and down to the ankles. No, thank you. I love my daughters, Rose, I do, but I have always lived my life on my own terms, and I'm gonna die on them, too." Blanche smiles a watery smile and holds out her hands to Rose. Rose takes them. "You are one of the best friends I've ever had, Rose. You and Dorothy and Sophia have meant the world to me. I know it's selfish of me, Rose, and maybe it's too much to ask, but I can't think of anybody that I want at my side here at the end more than you girls."
Rose squeezes Blanche's hands. "Then that's where we'll be." Rose wipes her eyes, they browse for a few more minutes in silence. "Hey," Rose says, taking a dress off the rack. "How do you feel about sequins?"