Shallow Imitations

chapter twenty-nine

       

The initial plan is to head to the jewelry store right away, but I had to delay the visit until after Eleonora's gallery opening. Kal wanted to go and check it out alone, but I made him swear not to make a move without me. He's too impulsive and I wanna be there to hear everything. The curiosity is eating me alive, yet all I do is stand with the doors to my closet opened, looking for a suitable outfit to wear.

The one thing I can't stop thinking about is how short three weeks are, or more specifically; how short these three weeks were. With Kal. A while after Atlas died and I stopped going to work, it felt like time was on my side. There was almost too much of it. I would spend hours trying to write something decent and then I would finish reading a whole book and binge watch my favorite series and only a few hours would pass. All I wanted then was to do keep myself busy for as long as possible, thinking that if enough time passed, I would feel less pain. Back then I would count down the days and it would only be thirty or sixty and it seemed like it's been years, like I haven't seen him in eons. Now nearly three hundred days had passed since I'd last seen him and nothing has changed. I've done nothing since then, as if time has stood still. I wasted a whole year of my life doing nothing. At least now I have some kind of goal even if I'm not guaranteed an outcome (or that it might be unpleasant).

After careful observations, I decide to do something I haven't done in a long time. Maybe even a year before Atlas had died. I put on a dress. There's a strange magic about wearing a dress that I don't understand, like how I sometimes feel that it makes me look more beautiful. Then there's the fact that putting on a dress is deemed as making effort in your appearance even though it takes less time than putting on jeans and a t-shirt.

I end up in a short, navy-colored dress. Instead of straightening my hair, I let it fall naturally on my shoulder, big and curly. The one thing people ask me when they look at my hair and the color of my skin (dark but not dark enough for them to assume that I'm part-black), is to ask me about my parents and what their ethnicity is. When I was younger, it used to piss me off so much. No one ever asks a white person where his parents come from and what color they are. Kal never asked, which is another thing I like about him. He doesn't care much for the explanation of my life. Just for the big events. And that's enough. For now, at least.

My reflection looks different. It's been a while since I last dressed up for something. Now that I think about it, I was mistaken. The last time I wore a dress was at Atlas's funeral. I still remember what it looked like. Black, obviously, and long. As simple as it was, I couldn't look at it anymore. I think El donated it or something. My memory of that day is a big foggy, which I'm glad for. El took charge that day and I'm forever grateful. She greeted the guests and answered all the questions I don't like addressing. Everyone always wants to know how it happened and that was the last thing I could mention that day. Or ever.

I'm not good at make-up and I don't like the way it feels on my skin, so I opt for a bit of mascara and a tinted lip balm. El loves her make-up. She's good at it too. She knows how to make it look simple and effortless even if she spends hours on it.

When I'm satisfied, I send El a quick message to let her know that I'm leaving the house. It's a reassurance so that she knows that I'm coming. I've never bailed on her in any of her gallery openings before, but I still feel the need to justify myself.

I walk out of the apartment building, beginning to dial for a cab when I see a familiar car parked outside. The silver exterior catches my attention and I look up. Inside it are the same pale blue eyes that kissed me not too long ago. We haven't been alone like that since. When El ruined the moment, the awkwardness lingered, it seems. Maybe it's because we're mostly busy with figuring this out.