The Dress – A Short Story

‘Wow! That’s gorgeous!’ the girl at the sink says.
‘Oh, this?’ I say.
‘You’ve forgotten to take the tag out. Shall I?’
‘Leave it. Keeps that new feeling a bit longer.’ I tuck it under the fabric.
‘If you say so.’

In the mirror, my eyes fixate on my middle.
‘Jen? You still in here?’ I call over my shoulder.
‘Yeah.’
Jen unlocks the door. She is on the floor, bent over the toilet.
‘You should put her in a taxi home,’ the girl says.
‘I’ll get her a water. She’ll be fine.’

*

Earlier at the bar, I watched as Jen drank six shots of tequila in a row.
‘You sure you don’t want any?’ she asked.
‘No thanks. Can’t stand tequila.’
‘More for me then,’ she shrugged and drank the last two. ‘What was I talking about?’ She picked up her other drink and took a long swig. ‘Uni applications, right? Complete nightmare. You’re so lucky you’re not going. How’s Oliver doing?’
‘I’m a bit sick of him. I know that sounds awful. But living with just him… it’s intense. Like we’re in a bubble.’
Jen shrugged. ‘That’s just what happens, isn’t it?’
‘I love him. Of course. But I need more than just him. No one bothers with me anymore, ‘cept you.’
‘What about your family?’
‘Won’t even talk to me.’
‘Still?’
I nod.
‘They’ll change their minds. They have to.’

*

I push the glass into Jen’s hand and she mumbles a thank you as she drinks. I feel a tap on my shoulder.
‘Excuse me,’ a man says. ‘Can I get you a drink?’
I look at him and smile. ‘Vodka lemonade.’
As I follow him to the bar, I glance back at Jen. She is propped up against a pillar, gulping her water. She’ll be fine on her own for a little while.
He hands me a cup. ‘I’m Chris.’
‘Katie,’ I say.
I study his face as well as I can in the flashing lights.
‘That’s a great dress,’ he says.
Over Chris’s shoulder, I spot Luke. I down my drink and shove the cup into Chris’s hand.
‘Just seen someone I know. Thanks for the drink.’

*

I last saw Luke three months ago, in Ikea with his mother. Oliver wasn’t with me that day, though I wished he had been. Seeing us together might have made Luke think twice.
I stood, frozen on the spot.
‘This is a nice one. Look,’ his mother said. ‘You’ll get loads on it.’
‘Bit too big. Halls’ rooms are tiny.’
‘What about this one, then? Nice and compact.’
I tried to speak, but when I opened my mouth, nothing came out. They continued to browse the bookcases, not noticing me beside them.
‘Luke,’ I finally managed.
He glanced over his shoulder at me. His face turned pale.
‘I’ve been calling… I…’
His mother looked at me and scowled. ‘Yes, love. He’s quite aware.’
Luke kept staring at me. His mother grabbed his hand and began to pull him away.
‘Come on, son. We’d best get going.’
They darted into the next aisle. I went after them, but couldn’t catch up.
I spotted them again at the checkout. Luke’s mother glanced across at me from the tills, then whispered to him. They were out the door before I could get to them.

*

Luke hides behind his friends when he sees me.
‘He don’ want to see you,’ one of them says.
‘I just want to talk to him,’ I say.
‘He don’ wanna.’
I push past him. Luke looks at me and takes a swig of his drink.
‘What you doin’ here?’
‘Can we talk? Smoking area?’
‘I’m waiting for someone.’
‘It’ll take two minutes.’
He stares blankly and finishes his drink.
‘Just come meet him,’ I say.
‘No. For the last fucking time.’
A girl walks over from the bar. ‘Here,’ she hands Luke another rum and coke. She looks at me. Her face is familiar.
‘Is your friend alright now?’ It’s the girl from the toilets.
I look at Luke. ‘Who’s she?’
‘My girlfriend.’
‘You know each other?’ she says.
‘Please.’ I lock eyes with Luke. ‘Just come outside.’
‘There’s nothin’ to say.’ He puts his arm around the girl, and they re-join their group.

*

Jen isn’t by the pillar, where I left her. I call out her name, but it’s useless over the music. I push my way through the crowds and finally find her in the corner, pressed up against the wall by a man who’s pushing his mouth to hers.
Jen,’ I say.
She draws away from him and looks straight through me.
‘She’s busy,’ the man says, pulling her back towards him.
‘Get off her.’ I grab his shoulder.
He shoves me away. ‘I said, she’s busy.’
Jen looks at me, leans forwards, and retches. My dress is covered.
The man steps away. ‘She’s all yours.’
She falls forwards into me, her wet mouth slamming into my chest. I push her off me, and she falls to the floor. People stare.

‘God’s sake, Jen,’ I say, scrubbing my dress with a damp paper towel. She sits on the floor beside me, slumped against the mirror, drifting in and out of consciousness.

I splash her face with tap water. ‘Wake up.’
She murmurs a little, but her eyes stay closed. I splash her again.

‘Wake up, or I’m leaving you there.’ The paper begins to disintegrate, and it clings to the fabric. ‘Fuck.’ I drop the paper towel and begin to rub the dress with my hand.

*

I spotted it in a shop window a few weeks ago, on my way to the park. I had to stop, to look at it properly. I walked past the window every day after that. But this morning, it was gone. Replaced by another dress, nowhere near as nice.

‘Where is it?’ I blurted out, once through the door.
‘Sorry?’ the shopkeeper said.
‘The dress. From the window.’
‘We changed our display last night.’
‘You got rid of it?’
‘We still have a couple of things from the autumn range in the back. Hang on a sec.’

She disappeared into the storage room, then re-emerged with a pile of dresses slung over her shoulder.
‘That’s it. There! On the bottom.’
She put the rest of the pile down on the counter and held it out to me. I took the dress from her and hugged it close to my body.
‘You going to try it on?’
 I looked at the price tag. ‘Oh. No. I shouldn’t.’
‘What did you want it for then?’
I couldn’t answer.
‘You sure? It’s being shipped to an outlet on Monday. Last chance.’

I rubbed the soft fabric between my fingers. What a beautiful dress.

As I left the changing room, a smile stretched across my cheeks. I placed the dress down on the counter.
‘Fit alright?’ the shopkeeper asked.
‘Perfect.’
‘Meant to be, eh?’
I got my purse out from my coat pocket and rummaged through it. I placed the single ten-pound note down on the desk and counted out my change

‘Been saving up your pocket money?’
 ‘Can I split the rest between these two cards?’
‘Er, we usually don’t allow that… but… I suppose… just this once.’
I left the shop and found Oliver at the door, almost falling asleep. As we made our way back home, I phoned Jen.
‘What you doing tonight?’ I asked her.
‘Nothin’ much. Just revision.’
‘Great. We’re going out.’

*

Once I’ve cleaned my dress up as best I can, I drag Jen out of the toilets, her arm slung over my shoulder. She’s heavier than she looks. As we pass the bar, I spot Chris, still standing alone.
‘You’re not leaving, are you?’ he says.
Jen’s head lays sleepily on my shoulder. ‘I need to get my friend home.’
‘So put her in a taxi and come back. I’ll get you another drink.’
‘I really shouldn’t… I…’ Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Luke and his girlfriend together at the other end of the bar.
‘Actually… another drink would be great.’

*

Under the bright lights of Chris’s apartment, I see his face properly for the first time. Not as good-looking as I thought. He pulls me into him and kisses me. His hands feel around my back for the zipper on my dress, pulling the tag from under the fabric.
‘You know you left the tag in?’
‘Mm-hmm.’
His hands continue to fumble around, finally locating the zip. The dress falls off my shoulders. His hands drop down to my thighs, push under the fabric and graze my stomach. I jerk back.
‘What’s wrong?’ he says.
 ‘Nothing. Just… don’t touch my stomach.’
‘Why not?’
‘I just… I don’t like it.’

‘Okay…’ He moves his hands around to my sides and pulls the dress over my head.
A loud tear.
‘What was that?’ I pull away and snatch the dress up from the floor. There is a gaping slash right down the seam.
‘You’ve torn it. Look.’ I hold the ripped fabric up to his face. ‘What the fuck am I meant to do now?’
He shrugs. ‘Mend it.’
‘It’s ruined.’
‘I’m sorry. Really, I am. But does it have to spoil this?’
‘I should go.’
‘Don’t.’
‘I shouldn’t have come. I’ve got a… a…’
‘A boyfriend?’
‘No.’
‘So, what’s the problem?’
‘I need to go.’ I pull the dress down over my head, careful not to cause any more damage.
How much was it?’ he says.
‘What?’
‘The dress. How much did it cost?’ He gets his wallet out of his pocket.
‘Eighty.’
He pulls out a wad of cash. ‘Here.’ He holds it out to me. ‘That’s double, at least.’
I don’t move.
‘It’s yours,’ he says.
I reach out for it, and he pulls his hand back.
‘If… you’ll stay.’
I stare at the cash, tallying up the twenties in my head. The money would cover my rent for the next two weeks.

*

When I wake up, the bed beside me is cold. Chris stands above me, already dressed.
‘Get up,’ he says. ‘I’ve got work. I’ll drop you home on the way. Can hardly leave you here on your own, can I?’
‘Right… one min—’
‘Now.’
I get up, clutching the duvet to my bare skin. Chris shakes his head.
‘Here,’ he flings my dress at me. ‘I’ll be in the kitchen. Don’t be long.’
I put it on and wince as I hear another faint tear. Poor thing.

Once I am dressed, I go through to the kitchen to find Chris. ‘Have you got any aspirin? I feel awful.’
He looks at his watch. ‘I’ve not got time for this shit. Get your shoes on.’

In the car, we sit in silence. He tuts and sighs as his eyes flit back and forth from the road to the clock. Eventually, he pulls up at the side of the road.
‘I’ll drop you here,’ he says.
‘But… I don’t live here.’
‘It’s not too far. You can walk the rest.’
‘Like this?’ I look down at myself.
Chris stares blankly.

I unfasten my seatbelt and get out of the car, pulling the hem of my skirt down. I grab my bag from the car floor and close the door. Chris drives away before I can say goodbye.
Alone at the side of the road, I feel naked. My dress hangs open at the side, the sick patch is still faintly visible and speckled with bits of paper. I check my bag for the money. It’s all there. I hug my arms around myself and look down at the pavement as I walk, pretending not to notice if anyone’s staring.

*

I reach my block of flats and pray that my neighbours aren’t at their windows. They judge me enough already. The six flights of stairs up to my flat make me dizzy. When I reach my floor, I hear Oliver crying.

When I get inside, I kick my shoes off at the door and walk straight through to the kitchen. I get myself a glass of water and look in the fridge for something to eat. It’s empty, except for a stale crust of bread and a cheese string. I pull the cheese string apart and fold the bread around it to make a sandwich.

Once I’ve eaten, I start to feel a little better, though my head still hurts. I cover my ears to block out the noise as I go to my bedroom. I get the money from my bag, count it again and store it safely in my piggy bank. Then I change out of my dress.

Eventually, I walk across to Oliver’s cot. He is red-faced and snotty-nosed. I pick him up, trying not to gag at the smell of him.

‘It’s okay. I’m here now,’ I say.
He cries even harder and I find myself crying too.


For insights into my intentions, process, and inspiration behind writing this story, read the accompanying commentary here!