THE CRISP LINEN BLOUSE
She took the bag of damp clothing out of the refrigerator and drew out the white linen blouse. The iron was already hot, but not too hot lest it leave a scorch mark.
She shook the bottle of spray starch and sprayed it on the sleeves. Laying the shirt on the ironing board, she lovingly ran the iron over the expensive fabric and imagined how elegant it would look with her new suit.
She lifted the sleeve from the board and placed the front of the blouse down for its treatment of starch and heat. Buttons. Pearl buttons. Beautiful, impossibly small buttons to work around as she tried not to singe it. the button holes challenged her patience as she navigated the iron around them.
Fifteen minutes she lavished on the blouse, caressing the collar gently as she hung it over the shower rod. Oh, she thought, this was worth the money. Brushing her teeth, she realized she needed to make an appointment with the dentist.
She sat on the edge of the bed and carefully puller up her nylons, made certain the seams were straight and clipped them to the garters affixed to her girdle. After easing the satin slip over her head, she slipped into the shirt. The sensuous feel of the fabric sent ripples of excitement tingling through her body. She stepped into the navy-blue skirt and quickly zipped it up the back. The matching suit jacket finished the preparations.
Stepping back into the bathroom, she combed her hair and applied just a dab of Dippety-Do. As she checked herself in the mirror, she remembered she need one last accessory. Sandra fingered the small silver cross, a gift for her 16th birthday from her grandmother, before fastening it around her neck. Perfect. She felt confident that today would be the new beginning she longed for.
While waiting for the bus, she felt the eyes of several men checking her out. She couldn’t decide whether she was annoyed or flattered. She clutched her pocketbook against her side with one hand and her bus token in the other. when the bus stopped, Sandra gracefully stepped in and took a seat near the front. She didn’t want to miss her stop.
At Maple Street she pulled the cord and exited the bus. The September morning was cool, but she felt beads of perspiration under her arms. “Please, deodorant, don’t fail me now,” she thought. Without thinking, she let out a deep breath as she stepped off the bus and set out on the 2-block walk.
She strode up the sidewalk and pulled open the heavy glass door. A custodian, clad in a grey work uniform, smiled at her as he polished the railing on the stairway. She returned the smile and made her way down the hall, hoping she looked as confident as she as she was trying to feel. She stopped outside a door and checked the number above it. she was at the right place. Lifting a brief prayer, she turned the knob and pushed.
The room quickly fell quiet as she walked to the middle of the room. “Good morning, boys and girls. I’m Miss Newton and I am your teacher. We’re going to have a wonderful time this year in second grade.”
The children looked at her with a mixture of awe and excitement. Her first day of teaching. The pride she felt was almost enough to pop a button off that crisp, linen blouse.
Excellent story, Penney! I repeat myself from times past, but you are a very good author. Thanks for sharing.