Fever Dream Red

18

This all happened in an afternoon, if you couldn't tell.

I had submitted to sunbathing on the grass when Inez came outside. She was wearing a short red dress: she was the sheer picture of glamour. It didn't billow up in the breeze or slip off of her shoulders. It just sat pretty on her.

I felt that it was royally unfair.

I got up with the opposite of grace to meet her.

She saw me and looked me up and down with downright distaste. I gazed down to see what all the fuss was about, and saw grass stains all down my dress.

"Oh." I quietly murmered. My cheeks were emblazoned with embarrassment. I could only stare at the floor.

"Oh honey," Inez looked at me like I was a lost puppy. I was. "You aren't built for this life, are you?"
"Nope."
"I'll sort you out." Inez turned away. I watched her go until she looked behind me and beckoned me."Come."

I followed here inside and up the glamorous staircase that suited her wonderfully, but looked too big on me.

I followed her into her own room, which was just next to mine. Her room was still red, but it was drastically different to my own. Whereas mine was all antiquity and gothic bedframes, Inez's was all classy glass frames and sleek scarlet furniture.

What was this guys obsession with red?

"Nice, isn't it?" Inez grinned at me.
"I'll say. Bit wierd though."
"How so?"
"Mine's all red too. But not like this. Like gothic, kind of. All old furniture and four poster beds and stuff."

Inez paused at me a second, as if trying not too laugh. She crossed her arms.

"Hm. Nick must really like red."
"That's what I thought." I mirrored.

"Anyway. We need to get you sorted out. You look a mess."
"Thanks."
"No. You really do." Inez giggled, nearly bending over.

She led me into the bathroom, with its massive neon red light framing the mirror.

I did look a mess. My makeup was not done since I had only changed my dress. I couldn't figure out makeup anyway. I could never get my eyeliner right. My hands were too shaky for it.

I was terrible. Make up always looked terrible on me. I emvied the people that could pull it off effortlessly.

She sat me down on a plush leather stool in front of the vast vanity.

She went into my bedroom to look for a dress she deemed suitable. I trusted her judgement more than anyone else's.

Some time passed, with me looking up with useless boredom at the scarlet light. I wasn't one of those cool people who made up entire universes in their minds. I tried, but it always fell open like tiny pockets of stardusts.

Inez came in with the most fabulous dress.

It was a deep maroon velvet, strapless and long. It would surely come down to my toes.

It was neat, pristine and gorgeous. It felt like a disservice for me to be the one slipping into it. It deserved much more than me.

I protested this to Inez, who rolled her eyes with an endured sense of pity.
"Don't be silly, Finny! Who is there to judge you, the corpses?"

Sunny.

I scolded Inez for her bad taste in humour that was lacking in laughability.

So I put the dress on in my room, still questioning my worth. When was I not?

I look okay, for once. My hair is still wild, and my skin still odd and disrupted, but the dress adds something to me. I no longer look drab and ordinary. I look like someone.

I could imagine me walking down the luxurious marble steps in monotone flavours, a figure in a glamorous film of a captured age.

I wade through to Inez's room. She smiled at me with a signature told-you-so knowingness.

Then she does my makeup. Inez always used to do my makeup when I was younger. I was her model and she practised on me until she was skilled enough to mirror my looks onto her face. I think I was the reason she was always so wondrous.

She was fixated on her craft, adding precision to the eyeliner with her steely gaze. It was clear that this was a sculpture creating her latest piece of artwork - me.

When she was done she stepped back and surveyed my face from every angle, making sure what she had done looked good and right.

Then she let me see her work.

I looked just as I had done before, but decorated and adorned. My skin was still textured, just smoother looking. The patchy colours that had risen had been combed over, just tints and shades remaining.

My eyes were dressed up in jewels and fabrics, the iris glinting with victorious might.

My lips were no longer dry and chipping like old paint. Now they were beautiful and anything but dry.

My eyeliner was on point too, for once.

Inez had fixed my hair too. What once had been a frizzy and ridiculous mess was now fully calmed, with straight brushstrokes of a painter.

I looked glorious.

"So...What do you think? Don't you think you look wonderful?"
"Yes. I look...brilliant!"
"We used to do this all the time. Remember?"
"How could I forget? You are the reason my skin is so awful all the time!"
"That's just the hormones, love."

Inez laughed and then held up my dirty dress, green with envy.

"What happened with this?"
"I just lied down on the grass for a while!"
"For a while? You must've been on there for hours! You can't do that Finny."
"Why?"
"That dress was lovely until you ruined it!"

Inez huffed a puff of disgust.

"You have no value for fashion, do you?"
"I do!"
"Treat your clothes with more respect please, Finny!"

I walked off, down to the beach, probably. Enough social interaction had happened today. I needed to unload it all into the sea like unrecyclable plastic.

I was sat there on the beach for a while, sungazing, until I heard the soft padding off sneakers and saw a glimmer of gold.