Destroy What Destroys You

When she said “fashion-related internship” I was a little wary. I tried to tell her that I wasn’t a fashion student, I was a writing student, but she just waved her hand at me and babbled on about how half of fashion was about the writing, anyway. I attempted to persist, but she rushed me out of the door with talk of another meeting. I hadn’t necessarily wanted an internship in the first place. I was looking forward to a relaxing summer full of lager and a couple of shows.

I just hoped that I didn’t get stuck somewhere prissy, like the office of a posh fashion magazine. I couldn’t walk in heels with above a three –inch stilt and I didn’t like to wear nylons. I didn’t want to put a clear stopper in my nose ring whenever I worked and I didn’t want to wear a sweater constantly to cover the half sleeve of tattoos on my left arm. I just didn’t want anything to do with work. I worked my arse off nine months out of the year and I thought I well deserved eight weeks to unwind and get high when I wanted to.

“I’m going to tell her I can’t do it.” I walked into the tiny flat I shared with Elyza, an art major, and plopped my bag on the floor. “She wants to set me up with a ‘fashion-related’ internship and when she calls I’m going to say that my gran’s sick and I need to visit her.”

“Your gran’s been dead since you were sixteen.” Elyza said, picking up the empty cereal bowl from the coffee table and walking towards the kitchenette.

“She won’t know that.” I protested, slipping off my navy trainers and heading towards the couch.

“That’s awful.” Elyza shook her head. “To lie about your gran like that. Why don’t you want to do it?”

“I had a relaxing summer planned! I was gonna lie round all day in nothing but my knickers and watch old episodes of Skins. I can’t do that if I have to be up early to sort mail and get coffee for a magazine.”

“She said you’re gonna work for a fashion mag?”

“Not exactly, but what else is there? That’s the only fashion-y thing I can think of that pertains to writing and stuff.”

I looked over at Elyza just as she rolled her eyes at me. “Penny, don’t be daft. She’ll probably set you up working four hours a week at Topshop. They don’t set students up for internships with magazines.”

She had a point, but I remained persistent in my ways. “Still don’t want to do it.”

“It’s a load of experience,” she persisted. “And if the lot actually likes yeh you might have a reference for future jobs.”

“I don’t need another reference. I’ve got loads.”

“Loads of teachers from your A-Levels and some parents you babysat for once. Sounds mighty professional.” She turned the faucet on, rinsing the tiny dried cereal remains from the edge of the ceramic bowl.

“Ey, why do you care if I do it or not? You’re going ta be in Dublin anyways, wiff yer mum.” I sank down on the couch, propping my feet on the magazine-covered coffee table before reaching for the channel flipper.

Elyza just shrugged and said nothing, which was very out of character for her, because she was as outspoken as a drunken bloke whose masculinity just got insulted. Meaning that she was a little bit on the chattery side.

“I just don’t want yeh to be bored.” She stopped the faucet and towel-dried the bowl before setting it back in the cabinet. We only had two bowels, so we liked to keep them clean and in rotation. We didn’t have cups big enough to have a proper bowl of granola in, so our bowls were cherished.

“I won’t be. I’ve got my Netflix queue to reduce and some green to smoke and some Steel City to turn upside down.” I flipped through the channels casually, bypassing some news updates and an X – Factor rerun.

“Who’re you planning on doing all of this wiff?” Elyza walked back to the couch and sank into the other available cushion. Our couch wasn’t comfortable in the least, having both cushions worn down to scraps of fabric and springs that dug into our behinds, but it was better than the two other seating alternatives – plastic folding chairs and the shaggy, hasn’t-been-vacuumed-in-ages gray carpeting.

I hesitated. Technically, Elyza was my only fried. I had loads of acquaintances and people that I talked to in my classes, but most of the time I only ever associated with Elyza outside of the campus building. Mainly because I got fed up with shit easily and art students were full of shit. I don’t mean offense to anyone, but there is only so much to say about an abstract painting.

My moment of silence went on long enough.

“Exactly. Maybe this internship could help yeh find some other friends. I mean, ‘m great and all, and no one else will match muh fabulous demeanor, but other people ain’t so bad.” Elyza’s thick accent was laced with compassion.

Oh, she really did care about my well-being and emotional stability. Sweetness.

I sighed heavily. I was getting absolutely no where in the way of this argument, so I decided that my next best option would be to admit defeat and let it drop.

“I’ll take your words into consideration.” Was all I said before finding a Nigella rerun and changing the subject from fashion to fondue.

I hadn’t taken Elyza’s words into consideration, because between finals week and avoiding phone calls from my mother, I hadn’t taken much thought to the internship, nevertheless if I was going to take it or not.

Five classes this semester meant finals to cram for and term projects to wrap up. I’d actually been responsible this semester and gotten the bulk of the work done early. I was just stressing because there’s something about finals week that leads to nightmares and sweat stains.

Half way through the week, on a Wednesday afternoon, I was lounging in the mess hall, a half-eaten bowl of dried cereal beside me as I skimmed a few chapters for my British Literature class. My mobile was in the front pocket of my jean shorts when it started to make noise. I set the book down, spine up, on the table beside me before digging the plastic out of my pocket.

I’m not stupid enough to not check to see who was calling me. I had certain numbers programmed into my phone so I’d know when to not pick up. My advisor’s name flashed across the screen and I let out a sigh. At last, the time of rejection had come. I hadn’t thought of a better excuse besides the one about my gran, so I was sticking with it.

“’ello?” I answered.

“Penny Torrance?”

“Yeah,” I said, throwing all of the formalities out of the window. I didn’t well want her to like me. In fact, I wanted her to think nothing of me, so she wouldn’t attempt to persuade me out of saying no.

“Good morning, Penny. This is Ms. Grey, your advisor, ‘nd I was just calling to tell yeh that I’ve set up an internship for a small clothing company--,”

“But--,” She spoke so quickly that I couldn’t edge in my refusal.

“—it’s nothing glamorous, ‘m afraid, because Elle and Lolita were chalk full of actual fashion students who’d been on the waitin’ list for months. This company’s not so bad, though, I think. They’re willin’ to pay you a tiny bit and find housing for yeh. I’m not exactly sure what you’ll be doing, but it is experience. Yeh can start the Wednesday after your finals are over.”

“I really appreciate the opportunity, Ms., but actually--,”

“No need to thank me, dearie. Jus’ come to the office by Friday to pick up everythin’ you’ll need. Good luck wiff yeh finals!”

She was gone before I could turn on my dramatic grief voice and tell her about my gran. I pulled the phone away from my ear slowly, staring down at the white screen. It said the call had lasted less than two and a half minutes and had already been ended by another party. Tossing the phone away from me, I leaned back into the over-stuffed armchair.

If I didn’t show up, she’d probably call me again and then the company would think me a real flake. That’d reflect badly on me and the university. Besides that, my advisor, as pushy and demanding as she was, had spent the time to find me a paid internship. It’d probably been a shitton of work.

My gran had been dead for quite some time, but she had taught me manners when she was alive, and I didn’t want to disappoint her memory by being a flake and an unappreciative brat.

I waited until Friday to tell Elyza that I’d taken the job. (That’s what I was referring to it as now, a ‘job’, because I was getting paid. And ‘job’ didn’t sound so student-y.) I walked into our packed up flat after finishing my last final and picking up the packet from the advisors office. The manila envelope had my surname written across the middle in big, black letters. I hadn’t looked at it the entire ten minute walk back. Walking and reading could be a hazard.

It dangled loosely in my hand as I shut the door behind me, kicking off my trainers and sliding off my bag. Elyza was standing in the kitchen this time, toasting two pieces of bread. Half of the time I had a conversation with Elyza, she was either making food or eating it.

“What’s tha’?” She asked.

“Information about a job with a small clothing line.” I said, walking towards the island separating the kitchenette from the dining area.

“Where’s it at?” She couldn’t hide the delight in her voice, but I chose to ignore it.

“Dunno.” I shrugged. “Haven’t opened it yet.”

“Well go on then.”

“I am, I am.” I took a seat on one of the uncomfortable wooden stools before popping off the envelope top and emptying the contents on the counter. There was a stapled packet including what the company was, phone numbers for the coordinator, and basic information on what to bring for the next six weeks. Then there was a map explaining where the building was and the best mode of transformation to get there. A small, multicolored flyer with a demented looking cartooned bunny advertised the line, and then there was a lanyard with a pass.

“Read it, read it.” Elyza urged, before turning just as her toast popped up. “Want one?”

I nodded. “Wiff peanut butter.”

I then cleared my throat and scanned the packet. “These are the directions and the duties expected of you…Drop Dead Clothing is located in Sheffield…please sign the enclosed agreement before arriving on site…no dress code, so wear what yeh want…keep the pass on yeh at all times because wiff out it security can kick you out…bring luggage to the main building, then housing will be arranged.”

“Is tha’ it?” Elyza asked, handing me a paper towel with my toast on it. I took a bite out of it quickly, chewing and swallowing before nodding.

“Yeah, that an’ a list of ‘recommended items’ to bring.”

“What’s on the list?” She was halfway through her piece of toast with butter when she sat down next to me and grabbed the packing list from the counter.

“There’s only like, eight items on here. ‘Enough clothes to get you through hot weather to piss-ass cold.’” She snorted and looked up at me. “It really says that. ‘Any social networking devices that yeh deem important, your own pillow in case yeh drool, mood stabilizers if you get too bitchy too easily, money for yeh own food, toiletries so yeh don’t smell too bad, your preferred type of liquor, and a good attitude.’”

Elyza snorted again. “That’s literally wha’ it says. I wonder if yeh advisor read that.”

I shook my head. “Probably woulda freaked if she had. Doesn’t sound too bad, though.”

“Too bad?” Elyza asked incredulously. “They’re telling you to bring yeh own lager. That don’t sound too bad at all.”

I nodded and then sighed again. I’d been doing that a lot lately and the action seemed a little overused. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate the humor in the checklist or the fact that the people in this company didn’t sound like dickheads, it was just that I wasn’t excited about working. I would have to deal with it, though. Especially if I was getting paid.

“Are yeh packed?”

“Mostly. It’s all in bags and boxes and such. I just hafta figure out what I’m sending to my dad’s and what I’m bringing wiff me.”

Elyza nodded. “I can help wiff that. You can borrow some of my clothes if yeh want too, cuz my mum said I’ve a two suitcase limit for Ireland.”

I looked over at her. “That must be heartbreaking.”

I was being sarcastic, but Elyza wasn’t. She loved her clothes more than she loved much else. “It is.”

I finished off the last of my toast before crumpling up the napkin. As I stood up, I tossed the wad into the bin and headed towards my room. Elyza trailed behind me, ready to rip apart my closet and decide my wardrobe for me. I didn’t think I dressed that badly, actually.

“What do you have packed already?”

I gestured towards the purple duffel bag on the end of my bed. I’d piled in an assortment of jean shorts, cut-up tank tops, baggy shirts, a couple hoodies, ripped hosiery, and my favorite pair of boots, along with enough undergarments to last.

“What if yeh have to dress up for something?” Elyza asked, digging through the bag. “Or if it’s cold?”

I shrugged. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

Elyza shook her head, before darting across the hallway into her room. I went into the small bathroom that we shared, grabbing my bulging toiletries bag. My clothing was generally ripped and baggy and from Elyza or charity shops, but my make-up was pristine. I’d spent aid checks and gift money from my father, gathering up the right brushes and shades to complete my collection.

I zipped up the bag and headed back to my room. The room was small – a bed, a dresser, a full-length mirror, and a desk. All of those items were staying in the apartment over the summer. Everything that actually belonged to me was packed up and getting shipped to my dad’s.

Elyza beat me back. She’d flung a huge pile of fabric on my bed. She turned towards me as she sorted through the pile, describing each piece and its function before rolling it up and setting it in my bag. She added two pairs of dark skinny jeans, a few black dresses, a pair of sky-high stilettos, and skirt or two.

“This should last yeh.” She said with a nod. “As long as you have access to a laundry mat sometime.”

“I should, I think.” I said, surveying the rest of my room and looking at what I still needed to do. My MacBook was still on the desk and I hadn’t sold my textbooks back to the library yet.

Elyza was set a navy hat on my duffel bag.

“Isn’t that from yeh Hallow’s Eve costume last year?” I asked with a laugh.

She laughed and saluted me. “Aye, captain. I figured yeh needed something to remind yeh of me. And if there’s an impromptu costume party, there’s a navy dress in there that goes great.”

I rolled my eyes at her but smiled anyway. “Well, thanks. Yeh’ve got me clothed for the next few weeks.”

“I’ve got yeh looking like a hot mama, too.” Elyza shimmed suggestively in my direction. “There could be a gorgeous lad working wiff yet. The second you walk through that office in some of those clothes, he’ll be smitten. And you’ll be getting laid.”

I said nothing. After all, it didn’t sound half bad.