Lesson 3: A Study in Dresses

I waited by the window, looking out to see when Lyre was approaching. I watched him pull up in an old, hand-me-down, gray 1985 Chevrolet Camaro. He carefully pulled into the driveway and I pulled the blinds shut before he could see me. Rushing to the door, I stood waiting for him. Unlike his entrance, I wouldn’t be late. I would be prompt, on time, ready to learn… I would prove to him that I wasn’t like his other students.

I shifted back and forth, awaiting the sound of the doorbell. When it finally came I swiftly opened it and he looked a little startled. He was carrying his flute case along with a large paper bag that he held like it was relatively lite.

“Come on in.” I said cheerfully, leading the way. My house wasn’t as close to the beach, but it was larger and, I hate to admit it, grander. I led him up a spiral staircase to my room, where a music stand was patiently waiting. He looked surprised at me room, which was unlike the rest of my pristine house. My room was covered in miscellaneous photos and trinkets. I playfully jumped on my soft bed as I casually kicked a book of song lyrics underneath. I grabbed my case off of the bed, but he stopped me from opening it.

“This time we’re going to try something different.” Lyre said, plucking the case from my hands. “First of all, the best way to learn music is to have a connection with it.”

“A connection?” I responded, shrugging my shoulders and searching around my room. “I, uh, play the guitar… occasionally…” I wasn’t about to mention the hobby I held closest and dearest to my heart: composing song lyrics.

“Excellent. Think about how you feel when you play… connect those thoughts, flow through your breaths.” He closed his eyes and took continuous deep breaths. I stared at him like he was crazy, and when he peeked through his eyes he instructed me to join him. Something told me that Mr. Harmon wouldn’t care too much about “forming connections” to the music, and I felt like I was meditating or joining in on some strange cult ritual. None of that mattered, though. I had to follow him, stick with his instructions… prove him wrong…

“Have you considered my offer about the restaurant yet?” He asked, keeping his eyes closed and not acknowledging anything except sounds of the room. “Oh, and keep your eyes closed.” Was I that predictable?

“I accept.” I tried to say as calmly as possible, shutting my eyes and listening to his deep breaths instead of emulating them.

“Good.” He replied, and I could have sworn that I heard his smile in his voice. The next thing I heard (literally) he jumped off the bed and faced me. “We need you to work tomorrow night. We’re short on helping hands, and-”

“Friday night?” I whined, and he only shook his head. Damn it, there I went, being the stereotypical girl he expected. I quickly shifted tones. “I’ll be there.”

“One last thing…” Lyre said with a mischievous smile as he reached into the bag. He pulled out a long piece of red and white fabric. I looked at it curiously.

“And what is that? Don’t tell me I have to clean my flute with it?”

“It’s a dress.” Lyre said, handing it to me. It looked like I was going to be swimming in it. Plus, I couldn’t even tell which way was up.

“And why do I need a dress?” I examined, holding up the clothing to the light.

“If you work at our restaurant, Demeter’s, you have to wear the outfit. It really isn’t all that bad, I just have to check it for size, but I’m sure you’ll look great in it.” I tried to hide my blushing cheeks at his comment.

I quickly said, “I’ll got try it on!” I hurried to the bathroom and closed to door behind me. I pulled the dress over and I felt like I was wearing a sheet. How did anyone expect me to wait tables like this? I was guaranteed to break something. To top it all off, it kept falling down. Maybe it was a size too big?

“How’s it going in there?” Lyre called through the door.

“I think I need a smaller size…”

“Did you use the clips?” He asked, and I searched through the bag. I found a handful of colorful clips that matched the dress, but I had no idea how to apply them. I conveyed my plight to him.

“Come out and I can help you with it.” He said, and I finally gave in and opened the door. He looked me up and down first, and then he took the clips from my hands. “Do you have a larger mirror?”

“Sure.” I replied, closing the door and revealing the mirror hanging on the back of it.

“Hold out your left arm.” Lyre instructed, and I did as I was told. He found the loose fabric and clipped it, preventing the dress from falling down as far. With extreme precision he adjusted the other end, and pulled a twine rope from the bag. I assumed it was a belt, and as both my arms were lifted, he placed his arms around my waist to secure the rope. His fingers felt like ice rippling through the dress to my skin, and I had to make sure he couldn’t see my face, for sure as always I couldn’t help but let a little rosy color escape my cheeks.

“There, all done. It might be a little large, but it’ll do.” I twirled around in the dress, expecting it from all angles. It was amazing how the dress transformed into something more becoming when the right person handled it.

“So, why don’t you change out of that and we’ll get back to the lesson?” He suggested, and I agreed. As I changed back into my regular clothes, I couldn’t help but feel his fingers skimming my waist. I tried to shake it off. It was nothing.

Or was it?