sweater and a gray skirt made from recycled wool.
I felt weird changing in front of her. It was another one of those things I’m sure girls who grew up having close girlfriends didn’t think twice about. I tried my hardest to act like I was comfortable as I swapped my shirt for the sweater and my pants for the skirt as quickly as possible.
“Okay, you have to wear your hair pulled back with that sweater to show off the boatneck,” she said, squinting at me. She snapped a black hair elastic off her wrist and handed it over.
I pulled my newly short hair back into a stubby ponytail with one hand. “This?”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding solemnly and straightening out the shoulders on my sweater for me. “Perfect. Kind of a minimalist thing. Let the sweater do the work.”
I would have killed for a friend like Myra in high school. Someone to help me pick out things to wear and tell my secrets to. The kind of girlfriend who feels like a sister. I would have given anything I had for her.
Myra stood back and studied me, while I wound her elastic around my ponytail. A thick bunch of bangs wouldn’t stay in the elastic and fell over my eye. It looked so much better than when I used to put my hair in a ponytail and little frizzy flyaway strands would sprout up.
“You know what?” Myra said. “That skirt needs a brooch. Like an antique brooch, right at your hip to balance everything out.” And then she rummaged through her purse, pulled out an actual antique rhinestone brooch, and pinned it to my skirt in just the right place.
“You just happened to have an antique brooch in your purse?”
“Occupational hazard,” she said, shrugging.
“I’m not sure I’ve even ever actually said the word ‘brooch’ out loud before this.”
She laughed and picked a stray thread off my sweater.
I studied myself in the mirror. The new hair, the new shoes, Myra’s perfect outfit—I didn’t know I could look so polished.
“You’re brilliant, Myra,” I said. “I can’t wait to see your new line!”
I’m pretty sure I saw her blush, and maybe her eyes teared up a little. They were shiny at least. It must be a funny thing, I thought, seeing an old friend all grown up.
When the food arrived, Myra and I camped out on the bed with the plates in front of us and shared everything.
“Oh my God,” Myra said, with a big forkful of smoked duck in her mouth. “This is heaven!” She fell back on the bed dramatically and chewed. “I wish everything I ever ate tasted like this.”
“I know,” I said, stabbing a prawn with my fork. I waited to lie down until it was safely in my mouth, so I wouldn’t get anything on my new sweater. I should have changed back into my salad-dressing-stained blouse, so I wouldn’t mess up my new clothes, but it had gotten pretty rank. Plus maybe the new me could be someone who wore nice things without spilling food all over them. Stranger things had happened.
“Good food,” Myra said, looking over at me and smiling. “And it’s just so good to see you.”
“Yeah,” I said, “you too.”
“Oh my God!” Myra said. “You know what this reminds me of?”
“What?”
“Remember that time you ran away from home and stole your dad’s credit card and stayed at the Four Seasons in Seattle and Fish drove us out to see you?”
“Oh my God!”
“I know! God you had balls. Like an iron pair. You, me, Fish, Karen, Heather, and Robbie all camped out in your suite, daring each other to eat escargots. Remember?”
“That was crazy,” I said. I couldn’t imagine ever doing something like that. I would have spent the whole time worrying about what would happen to me when I got caught.
“Oh, your dad was so mad!” Myra said. “There was, like, almost actual smoke coming out of his ears.”
“Well, I deserved it, I guess. That’s not even just pushing the limits. That’s like—blatant rebellion.” I was such a Goody Two-Shoes as a kid. For everything they put me through, my
I felt weird changing in front of her. It was another one of those things I’m sure girls who grew up having close girlfriends didn’t think twice about. I tried my hardest to act like I was comfortable as I swapped my shirt for the sweater and my pants for the skirt as quickly as possible.
“Okay, you have to wear your hair pulled back with that sweater to show off the boatneck,” she said, squinting at me. She snapped a black hair elastic off her wrist and handed it over.
I pulled my newly short hair back into a stubby ponytail with one hand. “This?”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding solemnly and straightening out the shoulders on my sweater for me. “Perfect. Kind of a minimalist thing. Let the sweater do the work.”
I would have killed for a friend like Myra in high school. Someone to help me pick out things to wear and tell my secrets to. The kind of girlfriend who feels like a sister. I would have given anything I had for her.
Myra stood back and studied me, while I wound her elastic around my ponytail. A thick bunch of bangs wouldn’t stay in the elastic and fell over my eye. It looked so much better than when I used to put my hair in a ponytail and little frizzy flyaway strands would sprout up.
“You know what?” Myra said. “That skirt needs a brooch. Like an antique brooch, right at your hip to balance everything out.” And then she rummaged through her purse, pulled out an actual antique rhinestone brooch, and pinned it to my skirt in just the right place.
“You just happened to have an antique brooch in your purse?”
“Occupational hazard,” she said, shrugging.
“I’m not sure I’ve even ever actually said the word ‘brooch’ out loud before this.”
She laughed and picked a stray thread off my sweater.
I studied myself in the mirror. The new hair, the new shoes, Myra’s perfect outfit—I didn’t know I could look so polished.
“You’re brilliant, Myra,” I said. “I can’t wait to see your new line!”
I’m pretty sure I saw her blush, and maybe her eyes teared up a little. They were shiny at least. It must be a funny thing, I thought, seeing an old friend all grown up.
When the food arrived, Myra and I camped out on the bed with the plates in front of us and shared everything.
“Oh my God,” Myra said, with a big forkful of smoked duck in her mouth. “This is heaven!” She fell back on the bed dramatically and chewed. “I wish everything I ever ate tasted like this.”
“I know,” I said, stabbing a prawn with my fork. I waited to lie down until it was safely in my mouth, so I wouldn’t get anything on my new sweater. I should have changed back into my salad-dressing-stained blouse, so I wouldn’t mess up my new clothes, but it had gotten pretty rank. Plus maybe the new me could be someone who wore nice things without spilling food all over them. Stranger things had happened.
“Good food,” Myra said, looking over at me and smiling. “And it’s just so good to see you.”
“Yeah,” I said, “you too.”
“Oh my God!” Myra said. “You know what this reminds me of?”
“What?”
“Remember that time you ran away from home and stole your dad’s credit card and stayed at the Four Seasons in Seattle and Fish drove us out to see you?”
“Oh my God!”
“I know! God you had balls. Like an iron pair. You, me, Fish, Karen, Heather, and Robbie all camped out in your suite, daring each other to eat escargots. Remember?”
“That was crazy,” I said. I couldn’t imagine ever doing something like that. I would have spent the whole time worrying about what would happen to me when I got caught.
“Oh, your dad was so mad!” Myra said. “There was, like, almost actual smoke coming out of his ears.”
“Well, I deserved it, I guess. That’s not even just pushing the limits. That’s like—blatant rebellion.” I was such a Goody Two-Shoes as a kid. For everything they put me through, my
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