Writing's Second Taste

Chapter Eight: Moment and Retrospect

"Too much?" Julia asked as she stepped out of her dressing room, making me peek out from mine. I blinked up at her and nodded instantly because saying that she looked like she was ready to dance on a pole in that dress was putting it lightly. With that, she groaned before strolling back in, "I just want to make a good impression."

Good impression is being polite or spunky on the first day, not wearing a low-cut dress.

Glancing at the mirror, I blinked at my reflection as I spun around, trying to formulate a judgement on the outfit. Unlike my roommate, I didn't need something flashy nor do I have the demand to create a grand entrance so I didn't really know what I was going for.

"Alright," I heard her again, making me slide open my curtain to reveal her in a more appropriate piece of clothing. Nodding at this, a grin broke onto her face before she turned back to the dressing room she was occupying.

Shrugging, I changed back into my own clothes before gathering everything that I tried on in a pile in my arms. Heck with it, I was going to buy all of these because my shopping itch was back again. I lived in New York with friends who were as fortunate as me so we really did adore buying things.

When I placed everything on the counter, my roommate glanced from behind my shoulder and gaped at the number of clothing that I was about to pay for. She looked down on the two blouse, one pair of pants, and a single dress that was currently hanging on her arm before her cheeks started to turn pink.

"I just liked a lot of things from this store," I defended when I stepped to the side after doing the transaction, "Whatever you're thinking, it's not it."

I knew it was going to fruitless, in her little mind she was thinking of me as someone from a wealthy background. In truth, I wasn't and I vowed to never consider myself as one, that was a huge lesson that I've heard from my father. No matter what you hear, what you consider yourself will be the truth.

Though sometimes that lesson backfires but I still consider it good most of the time.

"I'm so sad that Meg wasn't able to come with us today," Julia frowned when she realized what I was trying to do, "Something about not being able to miss a chat with her boyfriend."

Fortunately, she steered the subject away from the topic I knew she was dying to open up. Was I going to deny if she accuses me of the damn word? Of course not, that would be straight lying and I know she would never buy that.

Because even I know living in the heart of New York City was not cheap, especially with the size of our apartment. I believe with both of my parents' salaries, it was very plausible that a life of comfort was easily attainable. Let's also add that aside from my parents, I was also earning my own from the sales of my book.

My little brother will soon follow, though he was more of an Emma than a me. Not in the sense that he was amazing with painting or drawing, but give him a camera and the pictures he produces were award winning.

My god, he was amazing and I was quite jealous. The only worry he has is that our mother wasn't supportive of his passion as she was with me. She was forcing him to either choose a more 'useful' career such as being a doctor or lawyer, like our father, or submit himself to the art of writing.

I don't know how he does it, but he rebels. One would think that with that word, you would picture as someone with heavy eyeliner and has a closet full of black, but he was a complete hipster – with the glasses and oversized knitted sweaters.

I really wish our mother would stop, because if she could only see his talent. He has that eye, a perspective that somehow, I could not see what he does most of the time. We could be walking by a tree and he would stop me just so he could take out his camera and snap a picture. I was confused how such a nonsense thing could capture his interest but when he showed me his shot, I understood.