Cease-fire was maybe too strong a word; they hadn't been at war, really, had they? But there was peace anyway, kind of. They could talk and laugh. At times, Carl even asked things. There was no more pushing, no more unannounced entering, grabbing, kissing. Ariel wasn't dragged to dubious parties anymore -- not without being asked first. But there were always these eggshells lying around, forcing them to walk cautiously and to think twice before talking. Carl wasn't home much, anyway, always rehearsing the play and things, Ariel guessed. She herself had found back to her time-honored escape route: studying. Then the play's premiere day came along, and Ariel was invited. Carl surprised her by handing over a dress and begging her to wear it. It was thin, sky blue with a white flower print and it was long and slinky, a gown, really. It had a rather low front and no back at all.
"I can't wear this, are you crazy?" she cried out, throwing it back. Carl caught the slithering fabric.
"But you have to," she said. "It's mandatory. Men must wear a suit, women evening dresses. And as you don't have any dresses, I got you one. You won't get in without it." Ariel huffed.
"Then I won't come at all," she said. "Find someone else. Someone who can wear it, someone with hips and tits." Carl grinned nervously, looking down at the dress.
"Big tits would fall out," she said. "You'd look superhot in it, believe me, classy chic." Ariel groaned, then she turned around and shut the door to her bedroom with a bang.
"Ah, fuck, Ari!" she heard Carl cry out, her voice muffled by the wood. Fuck indeed, she thought, feeling tears prick behind her eyes. She fell forward on her bed. Was it a complot? Was really everyone in on the joke? Nationwide? Time went by until she heard a rustling sound through the door. Fingers tapped on the panel.
"I'm off," Carl said. "Wish me luck, party poop!" Ariel mumbled 'luck', raising her face off the moist pillow. She sat up, listening until she heard the front door closing. Pouring a glass of cold water in the kitchen, she saw the blue dress hanging from Carl's bedroom door. It shimmered softly. It was beautiful. Below it stood a pair of sky-blue heels, rather high heels. She wanted to feel anger, wasn't that what she was supposed to feel? It sure was what she was best at whenever people toyed with her like this. Damn, Carl, she thought as she put the glass down and walked over to the dress. You went really overboard just to fuck with me: buying a dress, even shoes. Imagine the time, the cost, and all this for a practical joke? Maybe she'd borrowed them? Maybe it was a costume from the theater. It felt new, though. Its fabric slithered through her fingers. It must look sexy as hell, moving and swaying on the right body. She sank her nose into the silk, inhaling. A face with a crooked smile flashed in her mind. She shook her head violently; this was all so cruel.
She let the fabric fall from her hands and went back to her room, sitting down to pour over her books.
Thoughts entered her mind as she tried to study; they had nothing to do with the words she couldn't read anyway. The thoughts started with one little question: what if... What if the stupid girl really wanted her at the theater? The girl who gave her this room for peanuts. Wouldn't it be beyond rude not to show up, just because she was too chicken to wear the dress? Why travel from one coast to the other if it's just traveling from one lonesome room to another, from one schoolbook to another? She wasn't stupid, was she? She had a brain, and it told her things. It told her she might as well go back home if this was what her life ended up being here. Why travel the world if you carry your prison with you? A scream of frustration echoed from the walls. Her brain was right, she knew. But it was only a brain, wasn't it? And a brain isn't worth much in an ugly body. People don't care about brains. They make up their opinion of someone in the first few seconds they meet. Dressing up wouldn't help, it would make it worse. They'd laugh their head off. Look! they would scream, pointing and hiccupping with laughter: the scrawny pig wears make up!
But what about Carl? She was ugly as hell herself, but she didn't seem to mind, did she? Then again, she was a lesbian, easy for her to talk. Maybe that was why she was an actress? Wearing masks and things? Her mind went in circles that seemed to get tighter and tighter around questions like not and why not, solutions like now or never or god, why am I so afraid? I don't even know these people, do I? She had to get out, break the chain. Wasn't that why she came all the way over here? To be free? Disgusted, she pushed back her chair, making it screech on the floor.
The dress was still there, of course, hanging innocently from its hanger. Tauntingly. Tauntingly? Surprised by the word, Ariel stepped closer, her hands making the blue-and-white fabric slide off the hanger. She might try it on. Why not? There was nobody here, nobody to laugh. She didn't have to go out in it, did she? She could wear it in her room. She had this thin white top with the scooped neck to wear under it, maybe? Might make it less ridiculous.
Standing in front of the tall mirror that had already been there when she arrived, she watched her pale body, only wearing white panties. It had been a while since she'd forced herself to look as closely as this; she didn't see anything new. She could as well be a boy with those bony shoulders, no hips to speak off, spindly legs and nipples for tits. Just a boy, wasn't she, except for those damn cow's eyes and swollen lips on an obscenely wide mouth.
She slid the white top over her head. Then she shook her head and pulled it up and off again. Why cheat in her own room? She picked up the dress and let it tumble down her naked body, keeping her eyes shut. The feeling was incredible; the silk caressed her skin and caused her to shiver. It reminded her of a gray satin blouse, which reminded her of blue eyes under a blond shock of hair, strong hands, a kiss... Her eyes flew open. One second, two seconds of seeing herself in a mirror, and she closed them again, hurriedly, tightly. But the image didn't go. The image of a deer in the headlights. The huge eyes of a grown-up child, all bones, disjointed, awkward. And yet... yet.
She opened her eyes again, forcing them to look at the creature in the mirror. She moved her hips left and right, making the dress flow and rustle. She turned halfway round, looking over her shoulder, watching her long bare back. Remembering all those fashion pictures in all those magazines, she placed a hand on her bony hip and pushed it out. She pouted, looking up from under her bangs. She raised her arm, putting a hand in her neck, shaking her hips, waiting for the familiar voice, the little nagging, sarcastic voice. It didn't come. There was only a rush of blood pounding in her ears as she watched and watched the creature sway. Finally, she realized she'd arrived at a moment of decision, one she could no longer walk away from. She either had to take a step forward or backward. Either take the plunge or forever be a scared nobody, returning home and withering away.
Staring into the patient mirror, her eyes met with their huge, wide reflection while familiar panic churned at the back of her mind. She tried to find back to old techniques like putting things in perspective, stripping them of dramatic exaggeration. Decision time, really? Oh, come on, girl, be real. You can very well stay here and be content with your little, lonely place of comfort. So many girls do, don't they? You've done it all the time.
But however hard Ariel tried, she couldn't find back to the soothing voice to lull her into safe numbness. The swaying dress made her feel too... was there a word for it? Was there even a thought? Her eyes stung with tears, she felt them trickle over her cheeks. Goddammit! Goddammit!
***
The play had already begun when she at last arrived. She didn't mind: the entrance hall was comfortably empty, except for a pimply student at the wardrobe. His eyes lit up when she took off her jacket and handed it over to him. She knew she blushed like crazy before hastily turning away from him, making her left heel scratch the floor. Feeling his eyes on her bare backside, she was glad to disappear into the dark theater, where she slipped into the last row.
Every step of the way to the theater, she'd fought her decision to come and wear the fucking dress. She remembered her gothic days, but compared to this, that had been just a masquerade, hadn't it, something to hide behind? This was the naked truth; naked indeed. Before leaving, she'd nicked some make up from Carl's room, doing her eyes and lips until she saw someone else; but she still felt exposed. Funny enough, the heels helped. They urged her to focus on her feet for sheer danger management. They also subdued her anguish by making her move in a way that felt alien enough to spark an arousing excitement. But still, she was relieved when she finally reached invisibility in the theater's darkness.
The play went well, Carl was brilliant. People applauded spontaneously, laughing at the right moments and being dead quiet when emotions went deeper. For a short while even Ariel forgot her predicament, distracted by the lights, the actors and the developing story. When the final curtain fell, people rose to give a standing ovation to the bowing actors. The lights went on around Ariel and her panic rushed back in. She knew everybody could see her with her ugly body in this way too beautiful dress. But nobody looked, did they? All eyes were on the stage, where the director (what was his name again) invited the public to join the cast for a small after party in the theater's lobby.
Soon, the theater hall was empty but for Ariel who stood alone in her backrow, strangled by the question what to do now? Stealing away was, of course, her primal reaction. She'd been courageous enough for today, hadn't she? Facing all those people really wasn't necessary. She could always come back later for her jacket. Then again, she would have to walk home only dressed in this fucking piece of nothing, wouldn't she? Well, it would be dark by now, but that last thought created a whole new set of apprehensions. She left the hall and realized she didn't have a choice even if she wanted to: there was no way out but via the lobby. She heard the sound of people chatting, glasses clanging. There was soft music; somebody was speeching. She closed her eyes and stepped into the lobby, opening them to see only the backs of people watching the speaker. Now! she thought, quick, nobody sees you, get out! But she didn't move, and the moment passed.
"That you, Ariel?" She knew the girl's face; she was in one of her classes. The girl obviously knew her name. There were more faces she recognized, boys too. Soon there was a circle of eyes looking her up and down, boys and men in suits, girls in pretty dresses. Hot flashes flew up her throat; without realizing it, her arms had crossed in front of her empty cleavage. "Didn't you just love the play?" the girl went on, deadpanning as if nothing hilariously had come her way. What was her name? Annette or something, blond, glasses, petite, nice round tits, of course. A girl carrying a tray offered her bubbly wine. She grabbed the glass and downed half of it in one go.
"Yes," she then answered, "it was great." Another girl closed in.
