Page 50 of Breathe Again

Some people don’t know this, but shopping was hard work. It was not just about finding things to try on, it was the mental gymnastics,for me anyway, required once I was standing in front of the mirror, to accept what I was seeing.

The reflection in the mirror never matched the mental image I carried of myself in my head. It was always a bit disconcerting to be faced with the fullness of my figure. It didn’t help that I couldn’t tell if I looked good, or if I was comfortable with how I looked, in something new.

Often I had to strip off the new outfit and put on my regular clothes, something I knew I was comfortable wearing, back on and study myself in the mirror, noting that I didn't look great in that either, before trying the new outfit again.

Then I compared the new outfit to the old one. If it was at least as good, it went into the possibilities pile. If it was not, it went to discards. So, I chose based on the comparison of what I already wore. I could not tell, objectively, if an outfit looked good enough on me, or even if it suited me.

I gave up a long time ago trying to find a style to project, now I just wanted something that fit well and flattered me somewhat. The entire process was exhausting, and I couldn’t do it on my own, so I rarely bought myself new clothes.

When shopping with Bex and my sister, I skipped most of that process.

I trusted Willa, entirely. If she didn’t like how something looked, she blamed it on the dress, the cut, the color, or the style, but she would never let me buy it.

Rebecca was much less tactful. She tried, God love her, but it was just not in her. I put one dress on, and she curled her lip, and said, “Ew, take it off. It’s awful.” I tried on another, and she crowed, “Bow Chicka Wow Wow!”

Between the two of them, I got something that made me feel like the beauty they swore up and down that I was.

“You think Zee will like it?”

“How did he like your get-up today?” Bex teased, turning to Willa. “He took her into their room for a private discussion before we left, and she returned ten minutes later looking dazed and well-kissed.”

Willa laughed. “Go, Zale!”

Yes, I thought to myself, if he liked me in what I wore to the mall, he was going to love this dress. We left it at the store to be steamed and packaged to pick up on our way out.

I was the first one of us to find something. I wondered later if that was by design because Willa and Rebecca knew how self-conscious I was about my body. I felt guilty that they took care of me like that. This shopping trip was supposed to be for Bex primarily. We hit a few more stores before Willa consulted her list.

“Are you ready for a break, Bex?” she asked.

“When’s it scheduled for?”

“Now.” Willa looked back down at her shopping itinerary. “Let’s grab some lunch and go over what you’ve tried so far.”

We were right next to Kelsey’s Roadhouse which was attached to the mall. Willa had mapped our route perfectly. We got a table for lunch and placed our orders, mine being a peppercorn crusted hamburger. Yum.

We went over the dresses Bex had tried and took note of what she liked about each, which gave us a better idea of her vision. Willa had not tried on much of anything yet, but she had an uncanny knack for choosing the exact right thing, right off the hanger, which is precisely what she did two stores later. She tried it on to be sure, and she was right.

As for Rebecca, she would soon be tired, and we hadn’t found ‘the one’ yet. There had been lots that looked good, but none that looked good and were comfortable and didn’t chafe her sensitive skin, skin that was becoming more sensitive with each new dress she pulled on and off her body.

Stopping for lunch and sitting for a while helped, but we were nearing the end of her tolerance. Willa asked her if she wanted to extend the lunch break or do the next two stores. She chose to do the next two stores, but it was in the first where we hit gold.

She was drawn to the softest stretch lace bodysuit first. I watched her rub the soft fabric between her fingers, her face soft, beautiful asalways. I hoped this was it for her. She pulled it off the rack to take a closer look.

I searched for the correct size and traded with her. Soft white, with long fitted sleeves, a deep V at the front with a deeper dip at the back, this was something that she could normally wear when she needed something dressy.

On the next rack, the skirt, of palest smoke, hung slightly gathered from a wide grey satin waistband, and reached to the floor. There was a lace overlay made to go with both the skirt and the bodysuit, the lace perfectly matched to the bodysuit.

In the dressing room, Rebecca slipped into the bodysuit and the skirt. She came out for help with the overlay. Seed pearls sewn along the neckline and wrists caught the light as she moved.

Willa and I were quiet, caught up in her moment with her. The lace overlay consisted of two panels of lace hanging from a thinner grey satin band that blended perfectly with the wider band of the skirt. I carefully placed the thin band of the overlay over the wide band of the skirt, and wrapped the satin ties around Rebecca’s slim waist, securing them with a bow at her back, the ends of which trailed to the edge of the lace that hit the floor. It was stunning. She was glowing.

I went back to the dressing room couch to Willa, where we sat enthralled by the picture Rebecca made, the wonder she radiated.

I pictured her in my mind so many years before when we found the dress she wore for Jack, pictured her standing at the altar with my dear friend, pictured her as we watched him slip away, pictured her lost in the years since, and saw her before me now. Healthy, happy, whole.

“Rebecca.” I heard Willa whisper beside me, but I couldn’t look at her, so focused as I was on Bex.

Rebecca looked up, her smile soft. “I never dreamed I could have this again.”

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