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“Oh my GOD.”
Alexis may have said it, but that didn’t mean David wasn’t thinking it.
“Moira… it’s gorgeous.”
No. Gorgeous wasn’t enough. To say that his mother looked gorgeous or stunning or fabulous, would not do her, or the gown, justice. Despite having spent hours upon hours helping her scour the internet for the perfect gown, Moira had remained tight lipped about the dress she had chosen for the red-carpet premiere of The Crows movie. However, as soon as she emerged from the other room, David recognized it as one she had gone back to multiple times on the Harrods website.
“Wasn’t it shown with a veil?” he asked, his alcohol-riddled brain recalling that detail from their search. He hoped she remembered to use the promo code he had found too.
“The veil’s on its way,” she replied softly.
His dad continued to talk, but David didn’t hear any of what he said. Fourteen polar bear shots didn’t help, but even completely sober, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to focus on anything other than the vision his mother presented at that moment. She was, of course, stunning, but she also looked more vulnerable than David could ever recall seeing her. Moira was a larger-than-life force most of the time, but right now, she seemed anything but. She looked like she felt exposed, but not in a bad way. No, her edges were softened, her armor was down, and she seemed almost bashful as she showed off her beautiful new dress. This was very new to David, and judging by the fact that he didn’t hear Alexis’ shrill voice, he was willing to bet she felt the same.
Growing up, David spent many an evening watching his mother prepare for various events: premiers, award shows, and Rose Video galas, to name a few. He remembers the first time he got a glimpse of what went into those special nights out.
Hiding behind the door to Moira’s dressing room at the mansion, he couldn’t have been more than four years old, still an only child for the moment, watching as a team of no less than 10 fluttered around her, making sure every last detail of her look was perfect—Moira Rose would expect, and not accept, anything less. He was captivated by the way her jewelry shimmered under the special lights in the dressing room, the way her black and white gown seemed to be made for her (he’d later learn that it, along with many others, were made just for her), and how her bright blue eyes seemed to pop even more with makeup done by a professional.
Moira hadn’t caught him that first time, but someone else did.
“Your mama looks muy hermosa, no?” Adelina’s soft voice in his ear started him.
“What does that mean, Lina?” his little voice questioned, still not taking his eyes off the room.
“It means she is very beautiful, little one.”
“Oh. Yes. But mommy is always beautiful. This is… extra beautiful?”
Adelina chuckled softly. “Yes, tonight she certainly is. Come, let’s get you back to the nursery before mama sees you. We can’t ‘interrupt her process’ now, can we?” David shook his head seriously and took Adelina’s hand in his smaller one. He chanced one last glance back and smiled seeing his mother looking so happy. He vowed right then and there in his little heart that someday, he’d get to be a part of her process too. And maybe develop one of his own, if only to feel as happy as his mother looked.
And he did. Moira eventually caught David peeking in as she prepped for a Rose Video fundraising gala a month or so later, and feeling particularly generous with her time, invited David in and set him on her lap while her team worked around her.
David didn’t dare ask any questions that time, figuring he was lucky enough to even be allowed in, he didn’t want to ruin the chance of that ever happening again. Moira, sensing his curiosity (and not completely without maternal instinct, at least when it came to her son), explained some of what was happening around them. Watching the various assistants do Moira’s makeup, and help her with choosing a wig had been a dream, but it wasn’t until she had changed into her dress and jewelry that he just couldn’t help the words that tumbled from his lips.
“Oh my God,” David’s mouth hung open at the final vision his mother presented as she emerged from behind the dressing screen in the corner of the room. Once again, she looked “extra beautiful” and he just had to tell her so; and he did.
“Thank you, darling,” Moira smiled softly at her spellbound son.
“Wow,” his father’s voice flowed into the room. David watched his mother’s cheeks color prettily before he turned his head to see his father, dressed just as elegantly in a black tuxedo, enter the room. “You look… gorgeous, sweetheart.” David ducked his head in innocent embarrassment as John wrapped an arm around Moira’s waist and planted a soft kiss on her cheek.
“Thank you, dear. Since it would seem I have the approval of both Rose men for the evening, I guess we shall depart.” John leaned down with a goodnight kiss for David before ruffling his hair. Moira did her best to smooth his unruly curls back down before kissing his cheek with her own whispered ‘goodnight’.
That was 30 years and hundreds of events and gowns ago. David had been a part of his mother’s process for most of his life now, since that day when he was just four years old. In the beginning, he would simply watch, maybe ask a question or two of her or those around her. He didn’t dare offer a suggestion until he was 10, fearing that he may not be invited back into this world of style and fashion and overall glamor he was falling more and more in love with at every turn. Eventually, David became his mother’s sounding board, and more often than not, the only one she would trust to choose the right accessories for her look on a particular evening. Today, in their tiny motel room, a far cry from the dressing room in the mansion, David feels the same wonder he did on that day all those years ago.
He also comes to a startling realization as he listens to his mother volunteering of her own free will to send the gown back. For all the dresses he has seen, all the jewelry he had a hand in choosing, he never appreciated the right his mother had to all of it until this very minute. She didn’t go to award shows just to be a guest, designers didn’t fight to be the one to dress her for no good reason—no. She earned all of it with the time and effort she put into her work and her image. Even this ridiculous Crows movie—she put everything she had into it for the two weeks she was gone, hoping with all of her heart that she would gain everything (her career) back in return. Every part of him wants to dissuade her from returning this particular dress; sending this gown back would be yet another blow in her quest to return to the celebrity she once knew. It’s not right, and it’s not fair. He can’t let her do it… they can’t let her do it. Of all the dresses and jewelry she had ever worn, none feels more deserved to him than this one gown. This isn’t just for The Crows premiere; this gown is EVERYTHING she ever worked for.
And even though he still may slightly resent the fact that Moira never put the same time and effort into being a mother (or what the world taught him a mother should be) as she did her work, he can’t deny now how proud he is to be her son.
The next thing David is aware of is Alexis snapping photos on her phone, while his dad is still fumbling in his pocket for his. He doesn’t have to turn around to know the lovesick expression on Johnny Rose’s face—he’d watched it grow sickeningly sweeter with each event and every passing year. In the past, David would roll his eyes at the obnoxious affection his parents often showed for one another. Now… now he kind of hopes that Patrick will still look at him like that, 40 years from now. He shakes his head to halt that train of thought, not daring to tempt the universe into taking it all away from him; he’d been burned by the fates before (GOD he was starting to think like his mother; maybe it was the hangover). The soft tone of his mother’s voice brought his attention back to the room.
Alexis has since set the phone down and is beaming with the same emotion he’s trying so very hard to keep hidden (the mutinous tears in his eyes might be failing him there). She may not have bothered to spend the time with their mother that he had, but Alexis’ heart had taken up residence on her sleeve in recent years; he can see she’s just as proud, and just as in awe of Moira Rose now, as he was at the age of four.
“And those are the shoes we’re going with?” he asks hesitantly, taking one final sweeping glance at the gown (the gown he’s going to find a way for her to keep come hell or high water. Maybe they can ship something of Alexis’ instead…). They’re great shoes, just not right for the dress. He can say that to his mother with confidence now; he had been trained by her after all.
“What do you think? No. Shoes later.” She pauses. “As well as jewels.”
He and Alexis gasp in delight.
“What?” Johnny asks with a touch of concern, remembering just how much money used to be spent on those jewels once upon a time. However, he’s drowned out by the excited chatter of his family. Oh well- the dress was going back anyway, right?