Looking For Space // Josh Kiszka

XVIII

Happy Sunday, Mom & Dad are back at it ~~

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 "What about this?" Josh asked me, holding up a long, black jacket, tapered at the waist and with a sort of jagged-cut hem. The thrift store had been an impromptu stop after we started to wander once we finished breakfast--he was very patiently trying to help me find something different to wear to the film screening that night, though I was already losing patience for sifting through all the racks.

I studied it. "It looks a little small. Also, I'm kind of bloated from those pancakes."

Josh rolled his eyes and tossed it to me. "Just try it on. What else did you find?"

"This," I said, clumsily holding up a dusky green, sheer blouse, then a deep indigo long-sleeved top with a keyhole neckline. "And this. If I could find leather pants like yours, my life would be complete."

"I didn't see any leather pants, sadly," Josh told me, going back to sorting through the rack of jackets. "But that black jacket would look good with the pants you're wearing now."

I looked down at myself. The pancakes had been a mistake. "I'm gonna try these on."

"Wait, I wanna see," he said and followed me to the dressing room, which was really just a curtain in a somewhat secluded corner of the room.

"Okay, I uh--I feel like this is too tight," I said after I got the indigo shirt on, pulling it down my waist, then put the jacket on over it before pulling the curtain aside. "What do you think?"

"Too tight where?" Josh asked. "You look great."

I turned back around to look in the mirror. "It just feels--tight. You think it looks good?"

He peered over my shoulder to look too. "Yeah, you look sexy. How much is it?"

I reached to yank the tag my way. "The jacket is--nine dollars. The shirt is--six."

Josh smiled. "I'm buying."

"No, you're not."

"I am, darling, that's the end of it."

"Yeah, well, we'll see who gets the cash out faster."

It really was a race to see who could get their money out quick enough to beat the other--Josh won by a hair, which I blamed on having an actual wallet versus just a wad of cash in a pocket--and we certainly seemed to annoy the cashier with our bickering. Josh's gleeful smile as we left made it worth it.

"Are you going to wear that tonight?" he asked, hooking his arm in mine as we walked. "Or the outfit you brought?"

"I don't know. I know I can't upstage you," I replied, my boots raking through some slush. "But I'd like to be able to match you."

"You already match me," he said quickly. "Stop insulting yourself."

I scoffed. "Easy for you, you just have this--this way about you. Even when I didn't like you, I was still attracted to you."

"I think you always liked me," he replied, and I turned to see a smug little smile on his face.

I chuckled. "Probably."

--

The still slightly too-tight feeling of the new top and surge of anxiety from being alone in the audience disappeared when Josh got onstage to give his short address about his film. I moved to the edge of my seat, crossed my legs and managed to stop nervously fiddling with my hands once he started talking. He really did look brilliant, even just based off his outfit alone, but he looked brilliant because he was brilliant. He was captivating with all his intellect and imagination; his wild gestures and emphatic expressions.