Symptoms of Life

Later that day, Leisl dragged me in to go dress shopping. I feel like that’s what Leisl does. Shop.

“Something floor length, yeah?” Leisl sighed, walking into the boutique from the street. We stood at the door for a few minutes, shaking off the cold and stomping the slush off our shoes. “My wedding dress it totally coming from this store,” she sighed waltzing aside to go look at the formal dresses.

The store was a giant gallery of pale skinny mannequins decked out in both cocktail and evening dresses. Like that’s what everyone looked like, a white and skinny mannequin.

“Welcome to Labelle’s!” A saleswoman cheered, coming over to greet us, “are you looking for anything in particular?” She added, her eyes hovering over Liesl’s Michael Kors boots and purse as thoughts of commission steam rolled her brain.

“We’re looking for some dresses for a formal,” Leisl smiled, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and giving a slow squeeze, and leading me towards the left side of the store to a display opposite wedding gowns.

“Of course,” the woman sighed from behind us, “just let me know if you need a size or anything!”

“This store is huge,” I muttered stopping behind Leisl to look over a line of satin dresses decked with unlimited sequins.

Leisl didn’t answer, she was already busy picking through the rows of pleated fabric and pulling designs that she liked aside, “maybe we should match,” she suggested, holding up two dresses of the same cut in different colours, her face fell before she could respond, “never mind, you don’t have the tits for it.”

Her attention was already back on the dresses before I even had the opportunity to roll my eyes. Instead my thoughts caught on the display of shorter dresses at the front of the store.

I’ve never actually worn a long dress. Like many gymnasts and divers, I was short. Anything I’d ever tried had drowned me out, and I’d spend my time tripping over the fabric. Now it felt like everything had to be long. The summer would be filled with maxi skirts and dresses, just trying to keep a secret a secret.

Glancing down at the rack below me I rake over the hangers filled with patterned satin. Out of habit, my hands reaches for the price tag, and I wince visible. 285$.

“Aren’t these a bit formal, Leisl?” I frown, looking up at the champagne coloured dress she’s modeling infront of one of the mirrors.

Leisl laughs, barely glancing at me from the mirror, “as if, Flo. Everyone takes these dances super serious. Dia’s making griffin wear a tux,” Lesil sighs, spinning around to face me, “besides this it’s going to be Valentine’s Day and I want to get laid,” she adds, before hanging the evening gown back up.

“Everything is so expensive,” I sigh through mostly gritted teeth.

“Not even,” Leisl scoffs, making a beeline for the aisles of short drives, “go nuts,” she shrugs waving me off to the rows of long dresses once again.

I stared blankly at her, most of me wasn’t surprised, and yet I almost certainly looked dumb founded as she picked up a light pink dress full of tulle and modeled it for herself.

After a few minutes of dumb looks I glanced around the store again. The sales woman was striding over towards me, dollar signs strolling across her face, and an easy smile on her lips.

Ducking my head, I turned back to the rows of endless satin, so I wouldn’t have to make eye contact as we talked.

“What kind of dress are you looking for?” She asked, her voice beaming with enthusiasm.

“Uh,” I paused, glancing back at Leisl and the shorter party dresses, “something long, I guess. They’re elegant,” I replied, a bitter taste rolling off my tongue as I copied Leisl’s testament -- the one she had imposed upon me, before leaving to try the shorter dresses.

I could feel her eyes hovering over me, probably wondering if I ate food or something, before she carefully said, “I think you might be a bit small for a long dress. Something short perhaps?”

My eyes sunk down to stare at the winter boot, the sat flimsy and dangling over the prosthetic. I could feel my cheeks getting hot, “no, I want something long. Don’t you have a petite section?” I bit back my voice a bit more assertive.

The sales woman was quiet for a minute before she clicked her tongue, “follow me,” she sighed, and her heels clacked away on the marble floor. I followed her across the store, to the far corner of the building, “this is it,” she frowned, looking pointedly at the rack before beginning to sort through it.

Maybe fifteen dresses hung on the rack, some puffy, some sleek, and mostly black.

“Definitely not a ball gown,” the sales woman said, a sense of renewed optimism in her voice, “it’ll suffocate you,” she sighed, yanking up a sleek orange dress that tapered to the bottom of the skirt.

“I want it loose at the knee,” I replied, picking up a silk forest green dress from the rack, “would this look okay?” I asked pulling the sales woman attention away from the rack.

“It’s from our Christmas collection, it’s out of style,” she pondered, “I guess it’ll be fine,” she sighed, pulling one more dress from the rack before leading the way to the back of the store.

“Find anything?” Leisl asked, suddenly appearing with half a dozen dresses in hand.

“Maybe,” I replied watching as the sales woman took her time to hang up both sets of our dresses in separate changerooms.

“Make sure you come out and show me!” Leisl called as I disappeared into the changeroom and shut the door behind me.

The stall itself was large and regal. One wall was covered in mirrors stretching from the floor to the high ceiling. Across from it sat a small cushioned bench where the two gowns hung.

Slowly, I dipped out of the chocolate brown trench coat and yanked my wool sweater over my head, sitting slowly I unbuttoned my jeans, and slipped the black boots off of my feet.

I’ve always found that dressing rooms make you see the worst parts of yourself. Whether it’s the harsh white lights or the shape of the mirrors I don’t know, but all I saw was flab. An untoned stomach, arms and legs stared back at me taunting my past and future goals.

I didn’t bother to look at the stump, instead I adverted my gaze to the two dresses hanging in the corner.

“Definitely not black,” I muttered, taking a deep breath, and pulling the forest green dress off the hanger.

Unzipping the bodice I sat down, and carefully thread the prosthetic leg into the dress with both hands, before pulling the fabric over both of my legs and standing up slowly. I zipped up the side, before feeding my arms through the spaghetti straps.

The dress itself was pretty, the green silk fabric hung easy from my waist, and a high slit ran up the right side unveiling my good leg up to the middle of my thigh. The torso was fitted, no ruching. A sweetheart neckline was carved low and held by thin green straps. Turning, around the dress was backless, exposing my back right down to the Olympic tattoo.

“Come out, Flo!” Leisl called, her knuckles rapping on the door.

Taking a deep breath, I unlocked the door and stepped out for her scrutiny. Leisl was wearing a bright red strapless dress with extensive silver beading. Her face looked thoughtful as she looked me over, nodding slowly to herself.

“It’s a bit long for you,” she noted, her eyes catching on the few inches of fabric spilling out over my feet and onto the ground, “do you have anything a bit shorter?” She asked, rounding on the salewoman.

“The length will be fine with heels,” the woman replied, holding up a pair of shoes, “would you like to try them on?”

“Florence doesn’t wear heels,” Leisl snipped fidgeting with the hem of her dress.

“I have a pair of heels I can wear with it,” I replied, avoiding contact with the mirror.

“Are you serious, Florence?” Leisl shouted, sticking her head out the stall door, “You won’t last the night.”

I shrugged

Thirty minutes later, the sun had long since set and we were finally checking out. The cashier rang out the dresses, for a greater sum of money then I’d ever seen in my bank account, but Leisl just shrugged saying it was on ‘our Dad’.

“There’s this really cool coffee café down the street,” Leisl giggled, slamming the trunk door shut and turning round on her heel, “Mr. Hughes plays there on Monday nights,” she added wagging her eyebrows, and grabbing ahold of my wrist and leading the way down the salty sidewalks.

Shopkeepers were outside, exchanging the old holiday wreaths for pinker flags and Valentine’s Day decoration. Jewelry stores had posted signs advertising their not-so-special sales and restaurant’s had matching posters for couple’s discounts hanging in their window,

Twinkle lights lit most of the way, until finally we landed at a blue brick building spilling out a rich rhythm of blues. Inside smelt like a terrible mixture of cedar, espresso, and malt, but Leisl stepped easily into the restaurant and found us a seat at a booth.

“He dresses so hot outside of school,” Leisl whispered, leaning across the table to let me in on the secret. I noticed a few people from my classes, or simply from running into them into the cafeteria. Yet, there were a number of intimate couples lined up on couches enjoying the splendor.

“Can I get you anything?” A waiter asked, whipping a notepad out from his apron and a pencil from behind his ear.

“Two peppermint teas and a slice of double fudge cake,” Leisl spouted off without looking at the chalkboard menu’s or me.

With a quick scribble and a scratch of his stubble the waitor was off.

“Don’t worry, the cake’s made with soy products. It’s a vegan bar,” she assured me, her eyes glued to Mr. Hughes swaying body and the outline of his back through a taught t-shirt.

I didn’t bother to watch, I knew well enough what he looked like playing, and it was far more enjoyable up close. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back on the cedar and vinyl chair and tried not to breathe in too much of smell.

“Florence, are you really sure about that dress?” Leisl asked, her fingers drilling a bit onto the table, “you should feel comfortable, not nervous about falling when you’re wearing it,” she added a bit more quietly.

“There’s a week and a half,” I sighed, opening my eyes to the fresh scent of peppermint tea, “I’ll figure it out.”

Leisl kept talking inbetween bites of cake and sips of tea, but that and the piano was just a dull hum. My leg felt sore from all the walking, and my head hurt from the days over emotional draw, but I couldn’t push it back to focus on the moment for the life of me.

“Oh hi, Mr. Hughes,” Leisl grinned, kicking me from under the table, “that was a great Hedley cover,” she finished, and I slowly opened my eyes to look between her and our teacher.

“Yeah, it was great, uh, Mr. Hughes,” I agreed, picking up the giant mug of tea and taking a long gulp from it.

Mr. Hughes hair was pulled up like always, his stubble a bit longer than earlier, and dressed casually in a coca-cola t-shirt and black slacks. Sweat beaded his brow, and clung to his cheeks like he’d been having a serious workout, but none of it clambered through his shirt.

“It’s a bit late for you girls to be in downtown, what’re you up to?” He asked taking the fork from my hand and stealing a bite of cake.

“We were dress shopping for next weeks dance,” Leisl smiled, twirling a long brown curl in her hand, “my dress is really beautiful and,” Leisl paused, “Florence’s is alright, but we aren’t really sure about it.”

I almost coughed, but instead I attempted to control my gaze, setting the cup of tea down on the table after.

“Florence always looks beautiful,” Mr. Hughes replied, stealing my cup and taking a swig from the mug, “why are you unsure about it?” He finished his deep brown eyes matching mine as he leaned in close to put the cup back down.

“I’m not-“

“It’s a bit long, Florence is clumsy, she’ll fall” Leisl sighed, taking up another forkful of cake.

Mr. Hughes shrugged taking another step in closer, “you are clumsy,” he agreed his breath heavy with beer, “but I’ll catch you.”

I could feel my face burning up, as he turned around muttering something about ‘more beer’ and made his way to the bar.

“Oh my god, are you sleeping with him?” Leisl hissed, kicking me again under the table.