Dawn Of A New Day 2

This story is a work of fiction and the product of my imagination

All characters in the story are eighteen years of age or older.

Thank you for taking the time to read, and ratings and comments are greatly appreciated.

This is my entry for the Winter Holidays Story contest.

◇-◇-◇-◇

It had happened one year ago today.

"If you just sign by the two X's, we'll be finished," the well-dressed gentleman with the graying hair and thick horn-rimmed glasses said, sliding the folder toward me.

"In some ways, I hate for it to be 'finished,' Mr. Bowie."

"I can certainly appreciate that, Ms. Shelford. Nineteen years is a long time."

"Nearly half my life," I responded, those nineteen years racing through my mind.

He handed me the pen.

I think I was wasting his time, and he wanted to get on with more important business, but, to me, this was very important.

"It almost seems strange to be signing

Dawn Shelford

without the M-r-s in front of it.".

"Until you've signed, you're still technically married, so you can use that designation if you'd feel more comfortable. But I'd recommend leaving it off."

"Oh, I will for sure," I added.

"Will you be reverting to your maiden name now? I can handle that for you if you'd like."

A few more bucks for the attorney.

"No, I don't think so. I've been Dawn Shelford all this time, and that's how people know me, so I don't think I'll change that."

"You could hyphenate as well."

I'd spent half my life as Dawn Shelford. I didn't think I'd know how to be anyone else...but I knew I'd have to. With a sigh, I signed on the first line, then the second.

"Thank you, Ms. Shelford. Now we just need to wait for a judge to sign it and the clerk to file it. I'll be notified when that's complete, and I'll contact you then."

We shook hands, and I left. Sooner than I'd expected, about three weeks, Mr. Jon Bowie, Esq. phoned to let me know that everything was complete, and I was a single woman again. He didn't actually say I was single, just that everything was complete, but that was the thought that filled my head when I heard his words.

I phoned Shana to let her know, and she was at the house within twenty minutes, tears filling her eyes.

"The bastard," she murmured as she hugged me.

"Don't do that, honey; he's still your father. Things have a way of changing, as they've done now, and who knows what the future might hold."

"I hope it holds immediate impotence for him," she growled.

I had to laugh at that since similar thoughts had filled my mind. His telling me he didn't want to be married to me any longer, then moving in with a twenty-five-year-old was a touch devastating. I couldn't help it that I was thirty-nine years old and didn't look nor act like I did when I was twenty-five. But that seemed very important to Sal, thus the divorce.

Shana eyed me, a very serious look on her face. "Now that it's final, and you know it's final, are you going to be okay?"

A simple question with no simple answer.

"I'll just have to see, Shana. I think so, and I'm sure I'll be better than I've been for the last year, knowing what Sal and his young friend had been up to. I have the house, the Mercedes, and a gob of money, so that part is good."

"That's not the part I'm asking about."

"I have a good job, some friends, and a wonderful daughter. I'll be fine."

"Thanks, Mom. I appreciate that. I know I haven't been a perfect daughter."

"I'm not sure there's ever been one, but I'm very content having you."

I received a wonderful hug and a couple of tear stains on my blouse. Shana had been what I guess you could call a

normal

daughter, and I loved her to pieces.

When she left and closed the door behind her, I realized I was alone. My time attempting to be "okay" was beginning

◇-◇-◇-◇

That was a year ago. I can still almost hear the sound of the pen sliding along that paper as I signed away what had been half of my life.

After a year, was I okay?

I worked, had a beautiful house, and a big black Mercedes, which I'd begun to hate. It was way too big and bulky when I wanted to be petite and sleek. It stuck out everywhere it went...and made me stick out as well. I wanted to be hidden and obscure. I'd discovered that during this year. I'd never been an extrovert, relying on Sal to take care of that side of things. Of course, without him, rather than working to be more outgoing, I'd retreated, only being sociable when it was absolutely necessary. I liked people; that wasn't the problem. It was just that, after the divorce, I didn't know quite where I stood with, well, everyone, and I was hesitant to push things the slightest bit.

Of course, as daughters do, Shana was constantly after me to

get involved

, to meet a few men, and have a date.

"Mom, you're just forty. You have more than half of your life ahead of you. You're still pretty and look good in some of those dresses you have. You were vivacious and lively when you married Dad. I bet you still look good in a bikini," she added with a chuckle.

No one was going to find out how I looked in a bikini; that much was sure. Vivacious and lively? I'd never considered myself that, but I did enjoy going out and having a lot of fun, at least before Shana was born. That had changed things, and I was never sure why.

I'd thought about dating, even checked out a few guys with that in mind, but I could never step out of my safety zone. I tried to analyze what was holding me back, but the only thing I could come up with was fear. I wasn't a fearful person in other things, particularly in my work, where I supervised a group of interior designers. I was surviving very nicely without a romantic relationship, and I knew there were no guarantees and more heartache was possible.

The memory of the breakup, of being tossed aside for someone

more attractive

, still grated on my self-confidence, at least the part of it that dealt with men. Shana was nineteen, and romance was a big part of her life and had been since high school. She'd had a boyfriend since she was fourteen—not the same one, but she felt her life was empty unless there was a guy following her around.

She thought I needed that too, and nothing I said could convince her otherwise. And the Christmas party had her beaming with imagined possibilities. This was a unique party. The building where I worked had ten tenants, all very successful but all small businesses. They'd gotten together and, for the first time, decided to have a combined Christmas party. With all their money in one pot, it promised to be a special gathering with well in excess of one hundred people expected to participate.

Shana was ecstatic about

my

party.

"Mom, we need to get a new dress, and I've got some ideas."

The big grin was a not-so-subtle hint regarding her ideas. If I'd let her pick my clothing, it would contain much less material than what I choose. Plus, she kept tossing the bikini idea at me. I did agree to go shopping with her as I enjoyed being with her and knew that her being close by could end at any time. I smiled and shook my head.

"Try to hold yourself in check, Shana," I said with a laugh.

"Mom, someone has to take care of you. You need to find a man, or maybe you just need to let a man find you."

"Shana, you're incorrigible. I don't need a man."

"You don't

need

a Mercedes, either, but you have one, and I think you're enjoying it."

"Actually, I've been thinking of trading it in," I countered with a "gotcha" chuckle.

"Guh. Now, who's being incorrigible?"

"Whatever," I said, sounding like Shana. "Let's go shopping, and I'll try to be open to your suggestions." I received a kiss on the cheek for that.

The trip to the mall was uneventful except for Shana pressing me about why in the world I'd want to get rid of the Mercedes.

"It's a nice heavy car, and that makes it safe, and it will be great when it snows. You should already know that from having it for what, three years?"

"It hardly snowed last year, and I didn't really notice when your father was driving."

"Well, you need to keep it."

Shana had spoken, and I had no plans to do anything until after the first of the year. Maybe she was right, though.

"Park in the big garage," she cautioned, "in case it rains or snows."

"I thought you liked exercise, keeping fit and all."

"Oh, I do. I just don't like rain and snow."

"You're living in the wrong part of the world, then. You need to head south, maybe find a man with a southern accent. I love those accents."

"I have a few years, Mom, but I'm here now to help you along."

"Help me along?"

"You're a wonderful catch for the right man. We just need to flush him out."

Shana certainly didn't try to hide her intentions. I tried to deflect most of the things she'd say, but she was persistent, if not diplomatic. She wouldn't accept my obvious lack of interest in finding another man—I'd been married to what I thought was the very best and had discovered, after nineteen years, that I'd been wrong. I wasn't interested in going through that again, content to lead a somewhat monastic existence, reading, enjoying some theater, and perhaps volunteering at the children's hospital.

Per instructions, I pulled into the parking garage and found an empty slot on the third level. Shana would get a bit of exercise, and I'd tag along, struggling to keep up.

"Now, you need to listen to my suggestions," she called over her shoulder.

"I've been choosing my clothes for twenty years, and I've done a fairly good job of it," I said as a way of challenging her.

"In a way, yes. But you've had a different purpose."

Uh-oh, I thought. Here we go.

"You were trying to look nice, but just nice. Respectable and prim."

"So, you don't think I should look respectable?" I asked with a chuckle.

I want you to look respectable...but hot."

"I'm forty years old. My

hot years

are long past."

"Mom, when we get inside, I'm going to take you to a dressing room, strip you naked, and then see how hot you are."

I couldn't keep from laughing at that. I'd never considered myself

hot.

Sal used to tell me I was a babe, but I thought he was just after more sex. But, hot? At forty? Shana was trying, but she was fighting twenty years of reluctance.

"The nicer clothing is on the second floor," she said, leading me to the escalator. "You need to listen to me," she cautioned, "and don't fight me. I'm not your little girl any longer. I'm your grown daughter who's going to do what's best for you, even if you don't know that."

I could sense a day of disagreements ahead of me, and I knew that "because I said so" wasn't going to work with this feisty nineteen-year-old.

"Red," she said. "You need to wear red. It goes with your dark hair and eyes. Plus, it will help you stand out. It is Christmas-y too."

Shana seemed to have her arguments well organized, and I sensed I might be outnumbered by her stubbornness. Still, I couldn't just completely fold.

"I don't want to stand out, honey. I'm more comfortable blending in.

We stepped off the escalator, and Shana's head was in motion.

"This way, Mom. I think I see what you need."

She was determined, and I was struggling to keep up. She moved in and out of the racks of dresses until she found what she was looking for. She looked at me and smiled.

"Some of these might do," she said as she slid the hangers along the rack, checking each dress in turn.

I watched her carefully study each red garment, ignoring the other colors. And I was just a spectator, watching from a ways off.

"Okay," she finally said as she pulled three dresses off the rack. "Let's try these on, and then we can decide."

"Do I get a vote?" I asked as she tucked the dresses under her arm.

Shana stopped. "Mom, you know you're going to make the final decision, but I'm going to do everything I can to influence that decision."

I sighed. Protesting wasn't going to win today. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to see what Shana had selected for me. I had become a rather drab dresser in the last year, and even before, I suppose. As my life fell apart, how I dressed was not a priority, and it had continued after the divorce, except for work. Even there, style was secondary to looking clean and efficient.

Shana led me to the changing rooms and handed me the bundle of various shades and textures of red material.

"I want to see each one," she said, laughing heartily.

She knew me too well.

I could almost feel her eyes on my back as I searched for a vacant stall. Once inside, I latched the door and hung the dresses on a pair of hooks. Shana knew my sizes well, so I wasn't concerned about that, just the style and look.

I sighed and pulled the first dress off the hanger. It was too short and...wow. But I'd sort of promised, so I stripped to my underwear and put on the dress. It had two spaghetti straps that went nicely with my white bra straps, a very low scoop neck that went well with the top segment of the bra, and a hemline that began by my right knee and rose to just below my left hip. I closed my eyes and shook my head, almost afraid to leave the stall.

I opened the door and peered out. There was no one in view except Shana. A big smile crossed her face, and she shook her head. Erase number one.

Back in the stall, I hung number one on another hook, wondering what number two would be. I'm sure my eyes widened when I took it off the hanger. It was a velvet-like material, maybe real velvet, and I immediately liked it. But what would it look like when I tried it on?

Once I had it on, I looked in the mirror. A single strap over my right shoulder that swooped across my chest, exposing my bra again. I sensed that my back was bare to the waist or maybe a little below. The skirt, which extended to the floor, had a split on the left side that ended six inches below my waist.

It was stunning, and I'd never worn anything like it. But it was a long way from the

me

I thought I was.

I stepped out of the stall, and Shana was quickly beaming, gesturing for me to come closer.

"Mom, it's gorgeous," she gushed. "I don't need to see any others."

"It's something, isn't it? But I'm forty years old. This looks more like it's for a twenty-five-year-old."

Shana snickered. "You're silly and beautiful. The men will be drooling and fighting to dance with you."

"That's not what I'm after, Shana. I just want to have a good time, not have men drooling over me."

"Mom, just let things happen. Don't fight life."

"Honey, I'm not trying to belittle you in any way, but what happened happened to me, and it left its mark, and I'm not sure I'm up to trying again."

"Mom, I love you, but I went through it too. We may have been doing different things at different places, but it was the same time for both of us. It affected me and my life. I watched you suffer, and I suffered too...more than you know. And I'm doing all that I can to rise out of that, get away from it, and have a wonderful life. And I want that for you too."

How had I been so blessed with a daughter like this when half of the seed that created her was from... There was no way I could refuse.

"It's probably way too expensive."

Shana snorted. "Just buy it so we can go look for shoes... and other accessories," she said with a giggle.

So, we left the mall, me with a bag containing the dress, a pair of four-inch red heels, a pair of red bikini underwear, and...I cringed; no red bra. I'd never been braless, except in a bathing suit or my sleepwear. I was forty years old and embarking on the life my nineteen-year-old daughter had envisioned for me. Where had this strong-willed offspring come from?

◇-◇-◇-◇

"So, Dawn, tell me about this Christmas party," Glenda said, a big smile on her face. "I've always loved Christmas parties.

I'd inadvertently mentioned the party when Glenda stopped by for our Wednesday evening wine tasting. I'm not sure why I was so reluctant to talk about the party. Maybe I didn't want to think about Shana's expectations. Even with that, I was looking forward to what was actually a wine fest with two divorcees trying to relive some of the good old days.

"It's this Saturday, isn't it?" she continued when I didn't respond right away.

"Yeah, Saturday," I answered, filling our glasses.

"Just the people from your design group?"

I explained how the party was to be organized, with probably over a hundred people attending.

"Lots of people means lots of fun," Glenda said, chuckling. "More available men,"

"Not you, too," I groaned.

"Oh, what's that about?"

"Shana, of course."

"She's a beautiful daughter. I'm jealous, as usual. Mitch and Michael are great sons, and they take care of the house and yard and everything else I need. But, I'd love to have a daughter to sit and talk with and to go shopping with, you know.

I snorted before I could stop myself.

Glenda grinned. "Go on."

I sighed. "Shana insisted I get a new dress for the party...and insisted on going shopping with me...and also insisted on having the final decision despite saying the final decision was mine."

"Ahhh, I'm beginning to get the picture. And I like it. You need a good man."

I groaned again. "I don't, I don't," I pleaded, draining my wine glass. Maybe repeating it would drive it home.

"So you two did go shopping?"

I nodded.

"Am I allowed to see?"

We refilled glasses and headed for the spare bedroom where I'd stashed the dress...and the accessories.

I carefully opened the big bag—right on top was a small bundle of red lace. I held them up."

Glenda chuckled. "The guys will love those."

"I've never worn anything close to...to those," I confessed.

Next came the shoes.

"Not sure I could walk on those."

"I wear heels for work, so I should be okay."

I carefully held up the dress.

"Whoa. Is that velvet?"

"Yep."

"Put it on. I want to see it

My first impulse was to say no, but I decided it might be a good idea to take this opportunity to see how I look in it.

"I'll turn my back," Glenda volunteered.

I stripped to my underwear. I decided to do it all, unfastening my bra and pulling off my panties. I looked at the lacy panties, then pulled them on. I wished I could see myself in the mirror.

The dress was next—it felt strange against my bare breasts, and I wondered how I'd react to that feeling at the party. I put on the shoes and was ready.

"All set."

Glenda turned, and her eyes went wide. "Holy shit!"

I couldn't keep from laughing.

"It is striking, isn't it?"

"You're striking," Glenda said, standing up and walking around me. "Wow."

I felt her fingers on my back.

"No invisible bra straps."

"Glenda, don't be weird."

"My gosh, your back is flawless. "When you dance at the party, the guys will love putting their hands on that bare back."

That was something I hadn't thought of...and was a touch frightening. There was no barrier between my back, my side, and...ugh.

"Men will be standing in line to get at you, Dawn."

"Get at me?"

"Stick your leg out of that slit."

Growling, I tugged on the dress until my leg was visible.

"With your complexion, you don't need hose. Bare legs are sexy, hon."

"I don't want to be sexy," I blurted out.

"Red velvet dress with a slit to the waist, bare back, no bra, very high heels." She wiggled her eyebrows when she finished.

She made me look in the bathroom mirror. I consider myself a rational person, and the mirror was showing me a very attractive woman.

Still, I didn't need a man.

"Seriously, Dawn. Look at me."

I turned and looked.

"You're going to hook a man with that combination. Count on it."

Guh. What was wrong with everyone?

◇-◇-◇-◇

Shana showed up to help me dress for the party.