Amnesia

II.

Airports, planes, rental cars, and small coffee shops bustling with strangers in suits and business dresses, visitors that Remy knew she would never see again, made the entire trip until the hours before the concert just a strange blur to her. Luckily, her parents, who did this often for work, guided her like a light in the darkness. Her father kept a tight, somewhat uncomfortable grip on her shoulders and led her through throngs of crowds, and her mother always stayed at her side. It was comforting, but it made Remy feel like a small child again. She looked around and saw children, more than half Remy's age, being led by their parents in the same manner.

She assured herself that it was just her parents being overprotective. It was easy enough to convince herself of that, anyway, especially when they called Chester while they were in an airport in Colorado, only a two-hour flight away. They claimed that it was to make sure that he had all his homework for school on Monday ready. As it was, it was Friday, so Remy knew it was a feeble excuse.

Clarity returned when Remy's mother zipped her into the dress for the concert. Her face felt hot as she stared at herself in the hotel room mirror. The dress was short. When she reached her hands down to her sides, the tips of her fingernails went past the hem of the skirt. She was surprised that her mother didn't say anything along the lines of the dress being "hooker-ish". It was something her mother would say. Then again, the woman had already seen the dress. She had been the one to purchase it. Remy was even more surprised that her father didn't say anything about the length of fabric either, just gave her legs a dramatic eyebrow raise when he looked up from his laptop. He was replying to some work-related email, despite having promised Remy that he would do no work while on vacation. He seemed amused as Remy scolded him for breaking his promise.

To be fair, Remy had not gone into the dress shop wanting a spectacularly short dress. She had just told the stylist that she would be attending a very important music concert in Los Angeles in the near future, and she wanted to look good and feel confident during it. And, oh yeah, the price tag didn't matter. This had made the stylist laugh and Remy's mother groan dramatically with a smile. Remy didn't know why she connected with the dress so quickly upon trying it on. Royal Blue wasn't usually her color, and she wasn't much of a gemstones-embroidered-in-fabric person. But it just seemed... perfect. The way it fit her abnormally skinny body, making it look curvy. How it had made her green eyes pop. She had stayed silent for a minute, and it seemed the stylist and her mother understood what this had meant.

"I'll put it on your tab, ma'am," the stylist said to Remy's mother. They left the store fifteen minutes later. It had taken a while for Remy to speak again.

"Mom, am I still beautiful?" she suddenly asked as they were driving home.

Her mother blanched. "What?"

Remy reached into the bag on her knees and felt the polyester and threads of the dress. "People used to say that I was beautiful. They don't anymore. Am I still beautiful?"

A minute of silence passed, then Remy's mother signaled that she was turning off the road and pulled the car to the side of the road.

"Remington," she said when the car was idling on the roadside gravel. "You are beautiful. You always have been. If other people say it or not doesn't matter."

Remy wrapped a hotel-issued robe over herself and the dress when her mother called her over for makeup in the strange, freakishly clean bathroom. Interestingly enough, Remy's mother had spent some time in beauty school before she decided to pursue entrepreneurship and expand her family's business. Because of that, Remy's mother could do, as Alivia put it, "a mean smoky eye". After thirty minutes of makeup application, Remy stared wide-eyed at her reflection.