The Dress

Doing her teenage daughter’s laundry was a tedious activity she usually put off until the weekend. It was a pile of denim jeans, T-shirts, sundresses, and the occasional dressy outfit she wore the weekend before while out with friends. Sometimes she poured herself a glass of red wine while she did; her way of rewarding herself. However, that weekend she had chosen a Sunday, right after breakfast, while her daughter studied in her bedroom. Soon, her daughter would do her own laundry, when she went off to college, but until then it didn’t bother her; as long as she understood it was a favor, not expected of her, and she thanked her afterward.

She hovered over the washing machine and unloaded the clothes inside; her usual favorite shirts and pants. Some socks were in between, likely to be lost somewhere between then and when she was finished. One by one, she dropped the pieces in. The washing machine rumbled and sloshed around. It sputtered and churned. Toward the bottom of the basket laid a dress she hadn’t seen in years. A fiery red number that she had had hung in the back of her closet for decades. For a moment, she questioned if it was the same dress. But of course it was; how could she ever forget it?

Once she realized, she dug through the other items and retrieved her little red dress. It was delicate in her hands. She had never noticed before how the sparkles lit in the sunlight. A smile crept across her face. What a wonderful find, and to think it had been neglected inside her closet for so long.

Her back against the machine, she closed her eyes and thought back to that day, when she was a little older than her daughter – the night that had changed her life forever.

There was a quiet knock at the door, the guest she had expected. Before she could stand and answer the door herself, her father perked and headed over. She was twenty-two but had recently graduated college and moved back home until she found a place of her own. Fortunately for her, her father had never been the type to scare her boyfriends away. The door opened and the boy who she had met the week before at the concert stood there, an overexcited grin on his face. She smiled back, though somewhat embarrassed that both were adults and the date started off as a teenage one would, down to the parent at the door.

“Hello,” her father greeted him.

“Hello, sir,” the boy replied, a nervous tint to his voice. She stood up and joined the men. She didn’t want to give him the wrong impression of her.

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir’,” her father assured him. “You don’t have to impress me. You need to impress my daughter.”

She laughed and patted her father’s shoulder. “Okay, Dad. I think I can take it from here. I won’t be too late that I wake you and Mom up, I promise.” She had no clue where the night would take the two of them, but she was adamant she would go home afterwards. She wasn’t a good girl—she had quite the rebellion in both high school and college—but she still wasn’t sold on the guy. All she knew about him was that he drank Coors, had just quit smoking, and had good taste in music. That wasn’t enough to go on.

Once that was over, she followed him to his car. It was nothing special. “I’m saving money until I can get a better car,” he explained as he jiggled the handle of the passenger seat. “Sorry. It sometimes sticks, especially when it hasn’t been used in a while.” She smirked, unsure how to take that comment. Did it mean nothing or was there a hidden message? He hadn’t been on other dates lately?

“Hey, as long as it works,” she responded and climbed inside. He rounded the front and hopped into the driver’s seat. “So, where did you say we were going again? To a club?” She looked down at her dress. It was fire truck red. It was nightclub-ready, but not too over the top. It was an outfit she could’ve worn in high school and not been told to change. “You don’t strike me as the nightclub type. I thought you were more the brooding loner, ‘the world and everything in it sucks’ kind of guy.” She assumed, based on their shared favorite band.

“Can’t I be both? I’m a man with many layers” He grinned. He then started the engine and peeled out of there. “You didn’t strike me as someone who wore dresses.”

“Only when I feel like it,” she quipped. It took no time to reach downtown, where all the best restaurants, stores, and activities were. He waived in and out of the streets like a professional; she watched the buildings in a blur. “So, I’m guessing you know exactly where you’re going. Do you go there a lot?”

“Not too often, but I’ve been there a few times.” She nodded and relaxed; she was safe in his company. They wouldn’t get lost or in trouble. “I’m surprised you agreed for this to be our first date. Usually my first dates involve dinner, a movie. The expectable, predictable.”

“It’s not like I agreed to go skydiving with you or go mountain climbing. Those would’ve been a hard no.”

“Oh, really? Damn, because those were my ideas for our next two dates.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. This one’s barely begun. We’ll see how this one goes first before we think about others.”

Once they arrived, he parked the car in a parking garage and the two walked through the artificially lit area, out into the poorly lit street. “So, how does this work? Since we’re not having dinner together, we have no way of getting to know each other,” she reasoned. She wondered what he thought about getting food afterward, before he drove her home. After all the dancing they planned to do, eating seemed logical. “There has to be somewhere open late at night around here.”

“Of course, if you think talking about ourselves will help get to know each other, instead of just – I don’t know, learning by having fun together.” That, she seemed, was an interesting idea. She had sat down and had conversations with boyfriends in the past about herself, about themselves, about a bunch of nonsensical things, and none of those relationships worked out. Why not try something different and learn about each other slowly, organically?

The line was long, but the bouncer was on his toes. Checked one ID, allowed them in, checked another, allowed them in. He was on top of things. Soon, it was their turn. He took their IDs, looked to them, nodded his head, and handed them back. “Go ‘head in.” Like a gentlemen her date waved her to go first. She did so, a bit of nervous energy coursed through her. She had been to a club once, on her twenty-first birthday with her best friend. It hadn’t been her friend’s scene. The crowd, the noise, it had gotten to her. They hadn’t stayed long and she had never gone back.

“I’ll get us a drink, you stay here,” he told her, to her dismay.

“No way. I’m not standing here by myself. We’ll never find each other through this crowd.

“Okay,” he yelled over the thumping music, and held out his hand. She took it and he pushed aside the sweaty crowd for them. Several seconds and hits to her shoulders and hips later, they reached the bar. That too, was crowded. “One beer and—” he looked to her, to get her attention.

“Oh. I’ll take a martini, thanks.”

“One beer and one martini, please,” he added. The bartender nodded and went to making the drinks. “So, is it too much? The atmosphere?”

She shook her head, though she was sure it would become too much for her eventually. “It’s just loud,” she shouted in response. “But it’s okay. It’ll be fine once I have my drink.”

“I hope you’re not just saying that for my sake.” There was worry and concern to his tone. It put her to ease, that he cared enough. “Because I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. There are a million of other things we could do down here. Just say the word and we’re outta here.”

“Let’s give it a bit first.” Seconds later, the bartender returned with their drinks and a pair of seats opened; a couple left their empty glasses behind and hit the dance floor. The two took the seats before anyone else could. “This is better. Now that I can sit.”

“You play video games?” He asked, barely loud enough.

“What?” She yelled. “Did you ask about video games?”

He laughed. “Yeah, do you play them?”

Her eyebrows arched and her forehead wrinkled. “That’s a random question. I guess so, a bit. Why?”

“There’s an arcade two blocks away, if you’d rather go there. It’s open until midnight, so we have some time.”

She turned in the stool and glanced around the room. The only real part of her that fit in was her dress. Other than that, it was foreign to her. The arcade would be a different atmosphere, one she could breathe in. “After this drink,” she agreed, and sipped it. She wanted to down it, but she figured she wouldn’t be too obvious about it. He did the same with his drink. “I’m sorry. Am I completely ruining this date for us? You picked this and I feel like I’m a dud.”

“Truth is,” he took another, longer sip; “this really isn’t my scene, either. But you dressed for the club, not an arcade.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Once both finished their drinks, she led them through the crowd and out, into the fresh air. Cool wind hit both their faces and she breathed it in. “It feels so much better out here than in there. I could barely breathe.”

“Same,” he agreed. They walked by the line of partiers; it had grown in size. The bouncer still went at the same speed. She trailed behind him some, until he stopped and let her catch up. “Now, you’re not just telling me you like games because you think you ruined the date, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “No. I like games. I have my favorites. I’m not necessarily good, but I like them.”

He smiled. “Okay, good then.”

The two blocks were simple. One slow stroll and they were there. Inside, the place had every light on and the arcade games’ lights, too. Older teens and young adults were there, their eyes on the prize. Everyone wanted their name in the number one spot. “I’ll beat you,” he warned her.

“I may not be that good, but there’s chance I’m going to let you win.”

The remainder of the night they challenged each other to each game. Some she won and some he won. By the end of the night the two were in tears, laughter at their squeals and chants. Neither walked away with their names in the number one, but they walked away with their hands in each other’s. He drove her home and they shared a kiss before she disappeared inside. Their second date planned.

In her room, she looked into the mirror. The red dress. She had picked it for the club, but it landed somewhere else. She smiled at her reflection and smoothed the dress out. It had been her favorite before, but after that night, her exciting date with someone who she had more fun with than she assumed, it was a dress she would never get rid of.

She opened her closet, took out the hanger, and wrapped the dress on it. Then, she hung it back up. She smiled and closed the door.

Standing there, her back against the washing machine, she thought how she should be bothered by her daughter going through her closet, but she wasn’t. She held the dress to her nose and breathed in the memories of that night. She then hugged it against her chest and sighed. Though the marriage was over, the dress remained. Sure, a lot had changed since that date and that moment, but the dress never had. It still held memories that had brought joy to her. The divorce had been difficult, but it was nice to remember she never once regretted that time in her life. To remind herself she would do it all over again.

She folded the laundry and that time, hung it in her daughter’s closet.