“Doesn’t she look beautiful?”
I smiled, my dad had already complimented me upstairs, I didn’t expect it again. He leaned in front of me to unlock the car door.
“She does,” my aunt replied and I was sure a smile hung on her lips.
I didn’t feel like I should look pretty. We were going to a funeral and most are meant to be sad. Actually, we were headed to an Orthodox held funeral and therefore, I knew the atmosphere would be gloomy.
For a split second I questioned my hidden desire to make sure I looked good. Either way, the compliment was accepted and appreciated.
“It’s the first time she’s wearing the dress,” he said.
“Yes,” I mumbled and let out a nervous-feeling-laugh, low and quiet.
First. Previously, while we sat in our living room, I told my father this fact.
Two years ago, it was summer and my mother had brought me to this fun new shopping store she and my sister had discovered. I loved the clothes, immediately. And so, my venture for nicer looking clothes began. Only because I finally came to understand my preferences.
This shop has ‘new season clothes’ and sale racks. My mom told me to stick to the sales. As I walked through my eyes fell on a black dress. It was hanging in the new season, but I forgot about the sales. It looked nice and I was sure it would fit. I took it with me when I went into the fitting rooms and knew I wanted it by the time I got out.
My motivation: I needed a black funeral dress. I know the thought might be disturbing, but having one was a desire I had kept in the back of my mind for a while. I hadn’t gone to a funeral since my grandma died and I couldn’t shake out the feeling of embarrassment.
My black clothes at her funeral had mismatched and were ugly, plus I only had a bright turquoise coat to wear. Least to say, I felt very unhappy with the clothe I wore and stored a thought in my mind. One day, I would buy a dress I would have for funerals. In case I ever needed to go.
For two years, I never wore the dress. My sister wore it once – a few months after I had purchased it for a date. It was during the years she lived in America and her boyfriend lived in England. She wore it for a date night they had over Skype.
This dress has gone from Greece to America and now back to Greece. I brought it with me. I tend to carry it wherever I go. I’m not sure why.
Half an hour before we had to leave for the funeral today, dad told me. I got up and I knew immediately what to wear. I walked up the stairs, went for my sister’s closet and grabbed the dress. I was sure it would still fit, regardless if I hadn’t worn it ever since the day I tried it on.
I wiped it down to get the fur and hair off.
Finally, I would wear it.
I got the dress on and looked at myself in the mirror, it felt surreal. The moment had come and I was sure it wasn’t worth it. If dresses or clothes had souls….poor thing, its first real wear was to a funeral.
I suppose, just as I had planned.