OK, maybe if I go from head to toe, I won’t forget anything this time.

            Hair’s washed, loose around my shoulders, curls are springy. Just enough gel so they won’t go frizzy if it rains. Again. God, one thing I can’t control is the weather. But we’re not supposed to get rain. This is Cali, though.

            Eyebrows are plucked. Contacts are in. Right-side in, I should say. At least I won’t be winking at her uncontrollably like that one night at the club. I’m sure she was ready to deck me halfway through the night. I cocked it up to allergies; she bought it.

            Makeup is on, lipgloss is applied, none on my teeth. Teeth have been brushed, twice, probably because I couldn’t remember if I had done it or not. I even used mouthwash. That stuff is wicked. No wonder kids drink it when they can’t get alcohol.

            Earrings are in, all with backings so they don’t start falling out. Having one fall into her drink when I leaned over to shout in her ear at the last concert was mortifying. Yeah, we’ve swapped spit and other bodily fluids, but she’s not ready to be drinking a vodka cran with diamonds studs anytime soon. away message text here.

            Bra is clasped at the right notch, cami is just tight enough to add that extra support but not dig into my shoulders. My dark blue sweater slides just off my shoulders; no lint, no cat hair, nothing to make her sneeze. My bangles are few and far between this time. Last time, every time I put my hands up, it was like a china cabinet crashed down my arm. I have my promise ring on my left hand this time, not the right, which she noticed right away. I was in a hurry to get showered, dressed, and to her house to pick her up on time so we weren’t late for school. Not my fault I forgot to set my alarm and switched my dad’s ring with hers. I still had it on. That counts for something, right?

            Belt buckle is tight, but won’t dig into my stomach. Button’s buttoned, zipper’s zipped. Pockets are tucked in and, yep, can’t see my underwear line. No creases in my jeans, boots come up evenly, both zipped, polished, shined to gleaming perfection.

            The deep breath that escapes my chest is rattling enough to cause me to laugh. It’s like this every time we go out, so tonight’s no different. Purse check: keys, cell, wallet, gum, lippy and chappy. And, there in the bottom, the pendant that I plan to slip onto her neck when I clumsily trip going up the stairs to the theater and spill the contents at her feet. She’ll bend to help me pick them up, smiling as she always does, calling me her klutz.

We’ll reach for it at the same time.

She’ll realize what it is.

And the whole moment will be perfect.