Marty says, ‘The things we do for fashion...’
Bells chimed, wistfully playing a tune that I'd heard a thousand times before —the song of love. The morning breeze, with nothing to obstruct it in the open field, whizzed past me. Cool air dampened my cheeks as if it was wishing me well, just like everyone else in the gathering. I stood at the beginning of the aisle, which was layered by a baby pink carpet. Rows of seats lined both sides of the path.
Though this was a possible nerve-wracking moment, I was surprisedly calm. Perhaps it was the joyous smiles of the standing guests, whose faces I couldn't recognize, or maybe it was the one who stood at the altar. Fabian grinned childishly, his dimple putting on a breathtaking display. He was dressed in a fitting white suit and had his hair tied at his back.
I took a step forward. At first glance, my dress seemed impossible to move in. It consisted of an excessive number of frills, so much so that I looked like a white dandelion. However, I found motion easy, as I glided gracefully towards my betrothed. In place of a veil, I had on a Hello Kitty hood, complete with the cat ears and bow.
Hand in hand, Fabian and I said our vows. As soon as we exchanged "I do's", I swerved to face the audience, throwing my wreath of flowers (which happened to be a gigantic lollipop). Skank caught it with ease, for the huge troll was taller than everyone else. I made out the face of Trudy beside him. She appeared giddy with excitement. All of a sudden, Waterloo by ABBA began playing. The crowd fell into sync, dancing perfectly choreographed moves.
The newlyweds —myself and my high elf husband— led the performance. We twirled and dabbed to the beat, never missing a beat. It was beautiful. It was glorious.
Then I woke up.
Laying down on the cold tiles of my room floor, I reminisced the sweet memories of my sleep. That was one dream I wouldn't have minded not waking up from. Too bad reality had a way of always coming back for you. I took one look at the clothes strewn about the room and realized I had fallen asleep. My room was a hideous mess, with my tops and dresses (even panties) scattered on every surface. I'd been searching for a dress to wear to Fabian's parents' wedding anniversary —which was tonight— before my unintentional nap.
There was none. I didn't own many dresses; I'd made sure to mostly pick hoodies and sweatpants during Mom and I's shopping sprees. The few I owned, I had left them in New York. Never had it occurred to me that I might ever need them. If I didn't come up with an acceptable outfit soon, I would have to cancel with Fabian or walk into the party wearing a T-shirt and shorts. The thought was repulsive enough to drive me to my last resort.
One peep into Laura's room confirmed it was empty. My lucky stars were finally shining. I had no idea where in the house she was, but she wouldn't be there for long. At most, I had five minutes to slip in and out of here unnoticed. If Laura was to catch me going through her things, I would be a dead woman. But desperate times called for desperate means.
I intended to quickly go through her closet, leaving everything (except the cloth I stole) exactly as it had been. That way, she wouldn't know I'd been there. I started doubting the possibility of my plan once I saw how painfully organized her wardrobe was. Each fabric was neatly folded into compartments, while the outfits she wore often lay on a hanger. The scenario remained me a lot of Uncle Gerald's desk. Laura really was a chip off the old block.
I'd only been through the first stack of clothes when an annoyed voice snapped at my back. Clutching a pretty black top that I'd been admiring to my chest, I jumped to face the speaker.
"What do you think you're doing!?" Laura's facial features were scrunched in a menacing glare.
Lie! Lie! Lie! Lie! The reasonable part of my brain screamed.
"I'm looking for a dress to borrow for my friend's party tonight." The dumb, partially responsible, and greater part said first.
Patiently, I waited to be yelled at, or even worse, be reported. Instead, I watched Laura's angry expression disappear, like magic. She then rested her posture, folding her arms.
"Which one? Your boyfriend or the afro guardian friend?" She asked.
It took a second for me to realize the guardian afro friend was Claudine, but I pondered lengthily on the identity of the boyfriend she was referring to. An intense wave of embarrassment hit me when I figured it out. If I'd been anything but black, I'd have colored red from the sole of my feet to the crown of my head. A stupefied stare sufficed.
"He's not my boyfriend", was all I managed to croak out.
Laura rolled her eyes. "Well, he is hot."
Another stupefied stare.
Without any more words, she moved to her closet. After short moments of scouring it, she pulled out an indigo ball gown. It was breathtaking, with its sparsely sequined fabric and voluminous pleated skirt. My jaw fell.
"The dress is short on me, but it should be right for you." She commented, examining the attire.
Next, she casually handed it to me, as though lending me her clothes was a regular occurrence. I immediately tried it on. It came along slowly, as I was not experienced in putting on this type of clothing. Laura didn't offer to help, but quietly waited till I was done. At last, standing in the dress, I noticed the off-shoulder bust was very much loose on me.
"It will need some shaping." Laura declared, her brows furrowed.
Taking out a needle and thread from a cupboard, she went to work adjusting the upper half of the gown on my body. Her motions were fluid and precise, making me deduce she'd done this before. She silently concentrated on her task, leaving me with nothing to do but observe her.
Over the one month, I'd already spent in Maile, Laura and I had barely bonded. Our paths rarely ever crossed. Days could pass without me spotting her. At times I wondered —what was her deal? One minute she would seem fine; another, miserable. She'd caught me disobeying the rules twice (now thrice), first when I'd lied about Claudine's identity, and second when I'd snuck out, but hadn't told on me. She had no reason not to, we weren't exactly the best of pals. I could never understand her.
"You're good at sewing." I made small talk.
Laura briefly glanced at me. "Took tailoring lessons in summer school. Had dreams of becoming a fashion designer."
My eyes widened in surprise. "Really? What happened?"
"Everything, I guess." She nonchalantly shrugged. "After I caused that hurricane, I was imprisoned for two years, then banned from ever using magic with this seal." She displayed the tattoo on her wrist, simple double lines that went around it, which I'd never noticed until now. "I kinda lost the passion after that."
My heart went out to Laura. Her ordeal was not something one easily bounced back from. It was the kind that crushed you, never allowing you to forget. Notwithstanding, time healed all. Perhaps, one day, she would be able to forgive herself and move on with her life.
"Can I see your designs?" I asked hopefully.
"Sure."
Reaching into the same cupboard, she brought out a sketch pad, gave it to me, and resumed stitching. It took a few pages for me to note that she was good. Her style was elegant, classy, and absolutely stunning. A "Wow" escaped my lips, causing Laura's to curve upwards. It was the first smile I'd seen on her, and I couldn't help smiling back.
Drawings of dresses continued till about half the book. Following them were sketches of several six-point stars. They filled every bit of every page, to the extent it seemed obsessive. I wondered what was so special about the plain symbol.
"I'm done," Laura announced, snatching the sketchbook when she realized what I was looking at and snapping it shut.
The scowl she gave me said she was unwilling to discuss anything, so I didn't bring up the topic of the star. Looking down at the gown, I saw that she had effectively fitted the torso to my lean frame.
"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" I appreciated it, giddy with excitement. With this outfit, I would be more than acceptable at the anniversary.
For the second time that afternoon, Laura smile. "You're welcome. And go through the door next time, it draws less attention."
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