Fortissimo

movement 1

You can always tell the people who have just gotten to the beach and the people who have been there for a long time by the way they act in any beach restaurant.

Put yourself in one of those places and look around. Most everybody's already sunburned, and wearing comfy beach clothes, and totally relaxed, having settled into island time and left behind all the pressures of real life. So when a group of pasty, stiffly-dressed tourists who are moving just a little too quickly bumbles in and kills the vibe, it's pretty clear that they just got here today.

You can imagine what it was like trying to get twelve of us ready, out the door, into the car, and down the beach to The Pink Dolphin Bar and Grill by the reservation Yeti had made for 7 pm and not told us about until 5:30, on the first night of the trip. We were at varying degrees of unpacked, and for some reason, everyone immediately seemed to think that this dinner was going to be the make or break fashion event of the year. And by everyone I really just mean Chelsee and Jared.

It kind of felt like we were getting ready for the see and be seen debut dinner of a cruise, which I had never experienced for myself, but Jared explained to me in grave detail while he fixed my hair (i.e., used the 2000s style hair crimper I had found at a yard sale for about five minutes and then spent twenty minutes just playing with my hair like I was one of those Barbie heads). It sounded like something that would be fun for a while and then devolve into sensory overload, but it was fun to get dressed up and pretend like I was in a Disney Channel movie montage. And it was even more fun for Jared.

The way Jared dresses himself isn't exactly iconic, but I will admit he has an eye for style when it comes to other people. He practically unpacked my whole suitcase looking for something for me to wear, and so far he wasn't impressed with my selections. I personally thought I had popped off a little with my wardrobe, but unfortunately I could only ever hope to be as fashionable as Jared Eaton, who was currently wearing a light blue Hollister t-shirt he had thrifted that had to be at least ten years old and printed shorts with chunky white tennis shoes. As I said, his eye is a little more discerning when it comes to other people. 

Remember that show from the 2000s where they'd bring in this girl who was wearing something that was, in reality, probably just normal people clothes at that time and then make her try on all these outfits that were totally not her style and pick one to like, transform into or something? I used to watch it with my mom while she folded laundry and we would be thankful that none of our clothes looked like the original outfit (or sometimes the new one). Jared has somehow seen every episode and thinks that makes him qualified to critique everyone's fashion choices, even though he dresses like... that. But having him dress me is still better than having to choose my own outfit, so I'll play reality TV if he wants to.

"There has got to be something in here," he muttered, tossing aside some oversized t-shirts and pulling his hand back when he found my bras nestled underneath.

I just messed with my hair again and slicked some moisturizer onto my cheeks. "Are you going to wear that?"

Jared shrugged. "What do you think?"

I turned around from my perch at the vanity and gave him a blank look. "You don't want to know what I think."

Before I could turn back around he started, pulling something out I had almost forgotten that I brought.

"This," he said in a low whisper, looking at the dress in his hand like it was the hautest couture piece he had ever seen. It was just a straight fabric dress with long sleeves and a blue tie-dye pattern. It was one of my favorites, but it was a little tight and short for everyday wearing.

"How did I not know you had this?"

I shrugged. "I don't have anywhere to wear it."

"Put it on," he commanded.