I’m headlinin’ y’all! Blue Flower by Mazzy Star is my prompt for this week’s Stories from the Jukebox from MJ Polk.
Have fun!
“I don’t like this blouse.” Grace’s brow furrowed as she studied the mirror. “It fits wonky.”
“Let us see.”
“No. I’m serious. It’s not a good look.”
“You never spend this much time trying on clothes, Grace.”
“She’s trying to find an outfit for her date.”
“Date? Grace!” Katherine’s voice shot under the dressing room door. ”Grace, you have a date?”
“What? No!” Grace stuttered. “How do you know?”
Katherine looked over at Elizabeth. “It’s not with Thin Soup Guy, is it?”
“No. She blocked him when he asked her for a full body shot.”
Grace stuck her head out of the door. She squawked, “How do you know about Thin Soup Guy?”
Elizabeth held a blouse up to her chin, eyeing the mirror. “I have your sign-in.”
“You’re not supposed to keep the sign-in.”
Elizabeth had been telling Grace to sign up for Hinge for months. And when she didn’t, she signed her up for it herself.
Grace was appalled. And slightly intrigued.
“Lizzy Em, this was my decision to make. Privately.”
Elizabeth turned to Katherine Dee, “The deal was for her to give it two full weeks before deciding how much she hated it. Talk to everyone who messaged her. Like all the profiles. She has literally nothing to lose.”
“Except nobody mentioned the screenshots until day four! By then, my face was already in the system!” Grace’s voice came from over the dressing room door.
“Screenshots?” Katherine asked, browsing through the boutique evening gowns.
“Yes! Apparently, if you say no—or if you have a boundary—or if you just say something they don’t like—they might post you. Like, hang your profile out on the internet with the rest of your dirty laundry.”
Elizabeth winced.
“Lord. Dating is not for the faint of heart these days,” Katherine shook her head.
Grace had met a few nice gentlemen. And a few… not.
The “how r u” messages were landing like a thud.
Mr. Unhinged had opened with: You’re the first match I’ve had on Hinged in over a year. All these dating apps are shitty.
Then there was Thin Soup Guy. He kept on with a conversation but it was very… thin.
Until finally, one day he told her he was not six feet tall and skinny and if that’s what she was looking for, she should move on. She said it wasn’t. He seemed relieved. Then he asked her to send a full-body photo and they could “go from there.”
“He wasn’t the one for her.” Elizabeth said, matter-of-factly. She took an evening gown from her sister. “I don’t think she likes any of them.”
“It’s not that she dislikes them… she just dislikes that they aren’t him.”
For a second, Grace went still behind the door. “Y’all…”
Katherine pulled out her phone. “I signed her up for CatholicMatch. The only guy who sent a message on here is the guy she stood up at prom.”
“I did not stand him up!” Grace hollered. “I backed out.”
“Last minute.”
“Poor guy.”
“Online dating is brutal.” Elizabeth shook her head. Then she tossed the evening gown over the dressing room door. “Grace, try this.”
“Y’all. I’m changing the password tonight.”
Grace shimmied into the dress. Sky blue sequins. Faint blue flower pattern you could almost miss. She zipped the side zip. Then looked at the tag.
“Oh… no.”
“Grace, what is it?”
“Do you hate it? It looked perfect for you…”
“No, Katydid. I love it, but…” Grace’s voice dropped. “Did you look at the price?”
“I didn’t. Is it… wait… this is Hammers.” Katherine tried to peer over the dressing room door.
Grace started to unzip the dress.
“Oh…” Grace croaked. “Oh… nooooooo.”
“Grace?”
She tugged again, as sweat formed on her brow.
“It’s stuck,” she whispered-yelled, trying to shimmy out the same way she came in. She made a little progress.
“Come out here,” Elizabeth said. “Let’s see if we can help.”
“NO!”
“We’re coming in.”
Now all three sisters were crammed into the world’s tiniest dressing room.
Grace’s armpits were damp. Sweat slipped down her back.
Elizabeth fanned her with a sales flyer.
Katherine tugged at the zipper.
Nothing.
“Y’all. Get out. It’s hot. Let me think about this.”
She pulled on the zipper again. It gave just enough for her to wiggle the dress down to her hips.
Now she was half in, half out of the dress.
“Oh no.” A beat. “Oh dear.”
She caught her reflection.
“This… this is worse…”
“What’s worse? What happened?”
“I can’t come out. There are body parts exposed.” Grace glanced back at the mirror. “And… oh dear… it is not pretty.”
“Ok. I think we need something slippery. Lotion maybe”
“Ooooooh. Butter. Grace, want me to run down to the store and get some butter?”
“I do not.”
“Ice?”
“Why would ice—no. No ice.”
“Well. Maybe we could cut it off of you.”
At that, the sales woman materialized, faster than lightning, floating in on her tiptoes.
“Ma’am—” she called over the dressing room door. “Ma’am, we can ring the dress up while you’re wearing it.”
She turned to the sisters. “Plenty of people love their new outfits so much they just wear them out of the store.”
Grace groaned. She tugged, shimmied, contorted.
Eventually, the dress was back on.
One hundred percent.
After she gathered herself, she stepped out.
“Oh Grace.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“If he could see you right—”
“Well he can’t,” Grace cut her sister off, smoothing the dress over her hips. “Let’s just go.”
When Katherine started up the car, she looked at Grace. “Are you sure you still want to go?”
“Yes, but we’re stopping at the liquor store on the way. Do not fight me on this.”
Her sister nodded. They were headed to the Weed Eater Café—BYOB—and Grace… well, she deserved a drink.
Grace was silent the whole way up the mountain, watching the road, wondering if it could change its mind. She didn’t want to ruin their annual girls’ trip. They waited all year for the Weed Eater’s famous tomato pie. And peanut butter pie. And, at this point—why not?
She looked up at the shack. Two men in flannel shirts were smoking pipes in the rockers out front. She took a long swig and stepped out of the car. Then the sisters walked up to the front porch of the café.
The men looked up. Went back to their pipes.
The hostess greeted them. Took them to their table.
They pulled out the plastic lawn chairs. Picked up the sticky menus.
When the waitress came to take their order, she looked Grace over.
“Whatchall celebratin’?”
“A commitment,” Grace deadpanned.
“You gettin’ married?”
“No. Committing to something I didn’t mean to.”
“The dress,” Elizabeth nodded.
“Sure,” Grace sighed.
Here’s the mixtape.
Blue Flower — Mazzy Star
Wrecked — Turnpike Troubadours
Miss Ohio (cover) — Zach Bryan
Feathered Indians — Tyler Childers
You Should Probably Leave — Chris Stapleton
Blue Ain’t Your Color (cover) — Chris Stapleton
All Your’n — Tyler Childers
Honeysuckle Blue — Drivin N Cryin (runner up for the headliner song prompt)
My story, Opera Rose and Other Devotions, is the feature this month over at The Southern Writers Guild. Part one of The Bluff, the first movement, was released last week. The second part will be released on Thursday. I’d love it if you’d check it out and tell me what you think.
Opera Rose and Other Devotions is a triptych of a life—Southern-rooted, grief-marked, and stubbornly alive.
Before she was Gray, she was Grace.
A girl who learned early how to care for everyone else.
How to keep her own heart tucked safely out of reach—
sealed beneath layers of old paint.
Home was never one place.
It was a series of arrangements.
A suitcase at a cousin’s house.
An empty bed that might not stay hers.
A makeshift kind of safety—
bean bags, Christmas lights, and whatever quiet she could find.
In the first story, The Bluff, a young girl stands on the edge of something she doesn’t yet understand—
watching the boy she loves dance with gravity,
already learning what it means to survive.
This is where it begins. Stay tuned for future installments—subscribe so you don’t miss out!
Well done! This is one of my favs so far.
LOL! This was awesome! Loved it! :)
Loved the narration, too!