That Red Dress

“How do I look, darlings?”

Brigit was draped against the changing room door, proudly showing off her prominent curves.

“Nice, nice,” the sales clerk said enthusiastically, only he twisted the word in such a way that it sounded more like “noy-sse.” It irritated Jane. She turned to Brigit and shrugged indifferently.

“It’s all right,” she said. Beside her, Claire was giving a quiet round of applause.

“You should get it,” another male patron informed Brigit, who looked his way with an appraising sort of expression. As he sauntered closer to her, he continued, “The guys won’t be able to resist you.”

Brigit faked a little laugh, and turned to go back in the dressing room.

“I guess that settles it,” she said just before she closed the door.

Once she was out of sight, the two guys put their heads together like they were opposite poles of a magnet. Jane saw them making crude hand motions and heard guttural guffaws as they walked away. Her lip curled involuntarily; not only were they saying rude shit about her best friend, she also had to admit she felt a pang of jealousy. No one ever talked about her that way…

“Brigit’s so lucky,” Claire was saying as the two of them walked to the cash register. “She can always wear the coolest stuff. It always looks like crap on me.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Jane said quietly.

“I think I’m only getting the pants,” Brigit announced, striding up to them as they waited in line.

“Oh, but the shirt looked really good on you,” Claire insisted.

“What do you think?” Brigit asked Jane, who once again shrugged dismissively.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” she replied shortly.

“Fine,” Brigit said, just as coldly. She put the top back and rejoined the line. Now they were at the front, and Claire dumped her loot (three different shirts all emblazoned with the same band logo) on the counter and began digging around in her purse.

“So I take it you like Tokio Hotel,” the cashier said, a smile tugging at his lips as he rang up her things. Having located her wallet, Claire looked up and smiled back.

“Just a little,” she said, pulling out her money.

“You know they’re coming to the Giant Center, right?” he said, folding the shirts.

“Yeah, I bought my tickets about a month ago,” she said breezily. “I’m so excited.” The cashier grinned again, holding out his hand for the money.

“Well, maybe I’ll see you there,” he said. Claire handed over the bills and as she took her bag, she replied flirtatiously,

“Maybe.”

As the three of them walked out of the store and into the main thoroughfare of the mall, Jane couldn’t help feeling a little depressed. It always seemed to be like this whenever they went out together: the guys all flocked to Brigit and Claire, while she ended up being the weird bag lady. It’s not like she wanted guys hanging all over her, but the occasional acknowledgement that she was female would be nice. Or so she supposed; it’s not like it had ever really happened to her. She had been forced to come to the conclusion that she was missing something, whatever it was that would transform her from “not ugly” into “actually desirable.”

“Oh yeah, he was totally in to you,” Brigit was telling Claire, who looked rather pleased with herself.

“Really?”

“Yeah. And you should look out for him at the concert if you can,” Brigit said. “He was cute.”

Jane didn’t feel like pointing out that they didn’t even know the guy’s name. She was trying really hard not to be a wet blanket about the whole thing.

“I think we should go over to Wet Seal,” she said, pointing to the other end of the mall. “I’m poor right now and they’re having a sale, so I might be able to actually afford something.”

It came out sounding slightly whiney-er than she meant it to, but Brigit and Claire didn’t seem to notice.

“Sounds like a plan,” Brigit said, and they turned as a group and headed in the opposite direction.

Once they reached the store, they all broke off to look for things separately. Brigit headed to the miniskirts, Claire to the snarky t-shirts, and Jane kind of wandered around aimlessly. Now that she was here, she didn’t actually want to buy stuff or even try anything on. Try as she did to dispel all the nasty thoughts, whenever she looked at something she always picked out the worst qualities.

“That would make me look pregnant.”

“I don’t have the boobs to fill that thing out.”

“If I was ten pounds lighter, I might be able to pull that look off.”

She hated thinking that way, but it was like second nature. It was everywhere, the constant nit-picking and excess of self-improvement. On magazine covers in the checkout line, on the TV commercials, even her own family; they all promised wonderful results but never really got around to delivering said results.

Why couldn’t she just be happy with who she was and what she had?

“You don’t look like you’re having fun,” Claire said, walking over to her. She had a t-shirt with the Batman logo on in slung over her arm.

“I am,” Jane said weakly, browsing the pile of skinny jeans. Figures, she thought. They were out of her size.

“Jane’s not having fun,” Claire told Brigit, who had just joined their little huddle. She looked over at her friend. Jane could have sworn she saw something like pity or understanding flicker across her face before the default haughty expression quickly replaced it.

“Have fun,” she ordered, as if she told her to changer her socks; as if it was that simple. Jane gave a small smile.

“I just told Claire, I am,” she insisted. No one was fooled.

“Here, try this on,” Brigit said, flipping through the pile of clothes she was carrying. She pulled out a short, violently red dress. “I saw it and thought of you.”

Jane laughed, taking the hanger.

“That’s comforting,” she said, heading toward the dressing room at the back of the store. “You see a slutty red dress and think of me. How sweet.”

They all had a laugh at that one, and Claire spoke up.

“You should still try it on.”

“I’m going to, all right?” Jane said, slipping into a booth and closing the door. “Give me some space, woman.”

She pulled off her shirt and slid the dress on in its place before debating whether or not to leave her pants on when she went out. The hem on the dress ended well above the knee, but not far enough up to make her worry about accidentally mooning people. She liked dresses this length, but they were always so hard to find. Deciding that if she was going to go for it, she might as well go big, she wriggled out of her jeans and opened the door.

Brigit and Claire were sitting on an armchair meant for one, their various shopping bags scattered around them like subjects before a monarch. Both pairs of eyes lit up when they noticed Jane, and Claire started quietly applauding again.

“That looks really good on you,” Brigit said, and it was obvious she meant it. Claire nodded approvingly, adding,

“Seriously, look in the mirror.” Jane turned; there was one hanging on the door of the booth.

Brigit was right, as she usually was about such matters: it did look really good. Sure, it was still a slutty red dress, but it felt strangely right. It was an elegant slutty red dress, if such a thing could exist. Jane turned this way and that, examining herself from the front, back, and side.

“It makes me look like I have boobs,” she said happily.

“What’s that like?” Claire asked, and they both laughed. The pair of them were rather small-chested, whereas Brigit always said that she could “bust the hell out of a turtleneck.”

“I think you should get it,” Claire said, as though this settled the matter.

Jane didn’t reply right away. She continued to admire her reflection. It was a little shocking how good the dress looked on her; she wasn’t used to this happening. Normally when she tried something on, it sagged or wrinkled or was generally evil, doing mean things to her naturally tolerable figure. This dress, however, hugged her in just the right places, and disguised what needed hiding.

“I think I will,” she finally managed, and quickly retreated back into the dressing room. It was like she felt the dress would suddenly make her look hideous if she kept it on too long. This was too rare an experience for it to last any decent length of time, and she needed to preserve it as much as she could.

Back in her jeans and t-shirt, Jane headed purposefully toward the checkout. Brigit and Claire stopped to fawn over the necklaces and bracelets, and she continued on alone.

Apart for making her look amazing, there was something else she liked about her soon-to-be new dress. It was like a friend in a time of need. It had sensed that she was on the verge of a breakdown and had come to her rescue. Jane knew somehow that if she had tried on any other dress, it would have failed miserably and ruined her day out with her friends. This dress saved her from that.

Or had it been her friends? They were the ones who had picked it out, and it was their approval that had really made her feel like a million bucks. Was she just buying this to make them happy? Jane hoped not. She liked to think the reason she was buying this dress was one that escaped definition, or at least one that wasn’t so shallow.

As she handed over the money and accepted the bag from the cashier, Jane decided she didn’t really care to analyze why she had bought her dress. She loved the way it made her feel and look, and whenever she put it on, she would be able to remember today and the great time she’d had picking it out with her best friends.

That was good enough for her.