Saudade

Chapter 8

                I spent the next day in bed, drinking unending amounts of Gatorade and popping more Advil than recommended. Spencer kept coming into my room with burnt toast and bacon, laughing at me like she always had when we were younger and I was hung over. That Friday, however, Spencer had decided she no longer pitied me. So I finally pulled myself out of bed early in the morning and went up to the master bedroom to find her with a big suitcase opened in front of her. It was already filled with Ed’s clothes, easy selections of jeans and various sweatshirts and boxers.

                “Need help?” I asked, sitting next to the suitcase on her bed. She had her hands on her hips, staring blankly into the bag and chewing her lip.

                “What do you even wear in Switzerland? I’m going to end up over packing,” she disappeared into her closet then.

                “Jeans? Sweatshirts?”

                “I just feel like anything I wear will look like I put in too much effort,” she confessed as she returned from the closet, a stack of five or so pairs of jeans in her hands. She tucked them neatly into the suitcase, and then returned to the closet.

                “Oh my god, Spencer, no one is going to care.” She went back and forth a few more times, each time toting new articles of warm clothing made of cashmere and wool. The final time she came back with a long, beaded red dress.

                “He always ends up taking me to a nice dinner,” she almost whispered, eyeing the dress for a long while before hanging it on her door. “I should pack his suit…”

                “What am I supposed to wear this weekend?” I asked her, remembering the boat party I’d be going to with Harry.

                “Uh, a swimsuit?” Spencer laughed, grabbing another large bag and taking it into the bathroom with her.

                “Well, I know, but I usually wear a bikini but I don’t think-”

                “Wear a bikini, you dumb ass,” Spencer butted in. “Wear what you always wear. Why wouldn’t you?”

                “Well, I mean, some people aren’t comfortable with…heavier people…wearing bikinis.”

                “Fuck them,” she said, returning with the bag now visibly full with her toiletries. “Besides, no one ever cared when I was overweight if I wore a bikini. So you do it, too. You have the confidence to do it, so do it.” I just nodded trying to remember if I’d even brought a swimsuit with me. When I’d thought of staying in London for a year, boat parties were never part of anything I’d imagined, but the weather had been insanely beautiful all summer. Spencer told everyone that it was me; that I brought the sunshine with me wherever I went. “You can borrow one of my suits, if you need,” She told me, then gestured for me to follow her into her closet.

                “You could fit, like, two beds in here Spencer,” I laughed at the grandiose closet. It was at least double my height and had shelves stacked neatly with every color I could have imagined and dresses hanging from racks in a beautiful rainbow of fabrics. The floor, of course, was scattered with dirty clothes that would never make it to the intricate wicker laundry hamper in the corner.

                “Yeah well, I’ve been collecting clothes since I was twelve,” she laughed too, opening a dresser drawer and beginning to pick out swimsuit after swimsuit and hand them to me. They were all vibrantly colored and varied in styles, and the one I decided to try on was a busty, vintage white bikini top with high-waisted, orange bottoms. “That’ll look amazing on you,” she told me with an enthusiastic nod. I quickly stripped down and put it on, and Spencer let out a scream. “Why are you so beautiful?!” She asked overzealously, making me blush.