I walk to my room and open the door hesitantly, almost afraid to look on the bed. If it’s something I’ve never worn, I bet it’s one of Jess’s presents that I stuffed in the back of my closet in the hope it would never see the light of day. I gasp when I see it. I remember this dress. And also why I never wore it. It does not belong to me.
I remember perfectly the day I first saw it. Kate had taken me out for ice cream, and we were having a contest to see who could eat more scoops in the shortest time (I was winning). The dress was in the window of the shop on the other side of the street. We both admired it while eating ourselves sick, and when we got up Kate said she wanted to try it on.
She looked beautiful in it. Stunning, really. The dark green silk on her pale skin gave her something of a royal air. The dress had a black ribbon around the waist, and long sleeves-the only type of sleeves Kate was wearing, to cover her veins. In the days she cared about anyone seeing them, anyway. I thought Kate wanted to mess around.
We used to do that a lot, since we couldn’t afford shopping very often. So when she went to the cash register with the dress, I expected her to return it. Instead, she got a stack of money out of her purse. I was gob-smacked. It was more money than I’d ever seen Mum or Dad carry around.
When I asked her about it she said she’d gotten a job, but I shouldn’t tell Mum and Dad yet. She was radiant when we left the store. So was I. It was the first time in months I felt hopeful. Surely, if she’d gotten a job, that meant she was going to get better. It was only after the police told us she’d been shot during a drug deal that I realized what her job was.
My parents wouldn’t believe it. I hid the dress right after we arrived home, knowing that Mum would go through Kate’s things in no time-and finding a dress that cost more than her monthly paycheck would have confirmed her worst fears. That Kate was a drug dealer. I wanted to throw it away, but couldn’t bring myself to, so I just took it with me when I moved to San Francisco, and then to Stanford.
“I can find another dress,” Jess says, and I snap my head in her direction. She avoids looking at me. “Looks kind of old-fashioned anyway.”
“Another dress sounds like a good idea,” I say quietly. I raise my hand to my forehead and discover a thick sheet of cold sweat has formed on it.
Jess limps to the bed, and in a matter of seconds the dress is gone.
“Ah, this is perfect.” She reemerges from my closet with a short, light-pink dress with embroidered white sleeves. “I know exactly what kind of makeup goes with it.”
“I’m all yours,” I say.
It takes her forty-five minutes to complete both our makeups and get dressed, during which any desire I had to go out evaporates.
“So where exactly are we going to celebrate?” I ask, eying my Swiss chocolate box. Staying indoors with chocolate and a good movie never sounded more appealing.
“Royal Garden.”
“You’re kidding. Did we pull a bank job and I don’t remember it? That place is expensive, Jess.”
“I know, but you always wanted to go there.”
I did. I was there once in my second year to listen to a speech and immediately proclaimed it my favorite place in the world. It’s an eighteenth century mansion that has been turned into a hotel, hidden in a small forest, not far from here. The surrounding area doesn’t even resemble California, more like a setting from a fairy tale. The prices are exorbitant, though. The reception in their restaurant had already been paid for by the university, but I glanced at the menu once and knew it’d be a long time before I could afford it.
“I only got the job offer, Jess. They didn’t send me a paycheck in advance.”
“No need. I have a friend who works there who owes me one. I was waiting for the right occasion to ask for the favor. He said he’ll give us a heavy discount. Just on drinks, though.” She winks. “Hence the pancakes.”
I gape at her. Funny how she can arrange anything anywhere, yet when it came to paying for the damage in the bar, the only thing she thought of was running to James. I don’t say anything, though. I’m glad that things are finally calm between us. Besides, it really is nice of her to arrange something like this.
“So who else is joining us?”
“Oh, just a couple of people from your class,” she says, her eyes glinting as she pulls a bit at her frock. I grin. Other people would wear long skirts, or at least somehow try to hide the cast, but she picked one of her shortest dresses, and painted the flag of England on the cast just above her knee. “Also some of my people, so we can have some real fun. No offense to your economics and computer geeks.”
I chuckle. “None taken. So how did you manage to arrange this in three hours?”
“You know me. There’s nothing that can get me started more than a party. I only needed two and a half, actually. I was half asleep when you texted. By the way, there will also be some people from your volleyball team. Not Jason, though.”
I shudder as I remember the last time I saw Jason. Part of me still wishes James had punched him. The other part wishes I’d gritted my teeth and stayed with him, because that would have saved me from myself and my weakness. I would have avoided everything that followed with James.
“We’ll have a lot of fun,” she says, a look of immense satisfaction sprawled on her face.
“Jess,” I say, suddenly terrified of her smile, “I hope James won’t be there.”
She shakes her head. “You should cut the man some slack, Serena. If my boyfriend had died in a car crash trying to get away from me, I’d-”
“Written him a nice epitaph and proceeded to a rebound?” I ask sardonically.
“I would’ve Googled an epitaph. I’m not particularly skilled with goodbyes. But I would have been affected by it. Anyone would.”
“I know, Jess,” I reply.
“You should know. You still get all worked up about your sister after all these years.”
I freeze in my steps. Jess rarely brings up Kate. Very rarely. Not even on Kate’s birthday, when I’m a wreck. She just does her best to cheer me up. But I suppose the reason for my earlier slip with the green dress was more than obvious. And if I have these kinds of slips, why am I asking more of James?
I know why.
Because my slips include a lot of crying and breakdowns, triggered by the most random things, like stumbling upon a movie I once saw with Kate. He barely talks about his pain. Maybe if he talked about it he wouldn’t leave me stranded in a hospital after I told him I loved him, and then run off to another woman. Maybe if we were both broken in the same way, we would know how to mend each other. Or maybe if I were a better person, I would accept that it’s all right not to be the same, and I would try to work things out instead of running away from him. But I am not that person, and I don’t want to risk giving him another chance.
Because all James and I seem to know is how to hurt each other.
“Let’s go. Or everyone else will be there before us,” Jess says, looking worriedly from me to the part of the closet where she hid Kate’s dress. It occurs to me that Jess must remember that tomorrow is Kate’s birthday. I suddenly realize that her organizing the whole thing tonight isn’t just for celebrating our job successes, but also part of her annual effort to prevent me from having a depression attack on Kate’s birthday.
“Sure, let’s go,” I say. Jess gets out of the room first, and I trail after her. It’s not until I reach my door that I realize something’s caught on the right heel of my white strappy sandals. A piece of black fabric, a thong perhaps. I bend down to remove it and suck in my breath when I realize what it is. It’s the black ribbon that hung on the waist of Kate’s dress. It must have fallen off when Jess took the dress away.
Without thinking, I open my white envelope bag and put the ribbon inside.
I don’t know why, but I am beyond nervous in the cab. I sit next to the driver to give Jess enough space to put up her foot in the back. I try to ignore the driver’s less than polite stares. He snorted when we told him the address, then asked us if we know that it’s a very expensive place. Now he glares at our purses every few seconds, as if he’s afraid we won’t pay him. It would serve him right. I should be happy, excited. After all, the news about the job is what I’ve been waiting and praying for weeks to receive. Months, really. But there’s a heaviness in my chest that might or might not have something to do with the ribbon in my bag.