Harrison Avenue // H.S.

Lavender Dress

            

[Harry]

Ellison has this one dress that I love, more than any other piece of clothing she owns. She's had it for years now and I think she's even contemplated getting rid of it a few times, except she knows how much I like it and I'm sure that stops her.

It's almost iconic at this point, because I even wrote a song about it.

Lavender Dress.

Obviously, it isn't the dress that I'm obsessed with, it's the woman who's wearing it that means something. I just really like it when she wears it. It's purple, a really pretty purple, like a pale lavender where the fabric is always soft and smells of fresh laundry. It sort of wraps tightly just under her chest and then flows out to her knees. It's light and breezy and reminds me of summer. It also reminds me of a time that I fucked her in the summer while she was wearing the dress. It was late and still so hot outside, and we were both a little drunk. It was at a friend's wedding and we apparently didn't have enough self-control to wait until we were back to the hotel we were staying at. So, I did her from behind while we were hidden in some trees next to the water where the wedding was held.

Lavender Dress also had its own part at our wedding. It was the song that Elle walk down the aisle to, played on the guitar by one of our friends. This dress, the song that was inspired by how good she looks when she wears it, there's a lot of emotion, a lot of memories... and a little bit of lust attached to the thing.

And she's wearing it now and I probably shouldn't be so affected by it considering I've seen her wear it at least a hundred time, but I am. I think it's just how I always imagine Ellison when I'm not with her, exactly like she is now... wearing this lavender dress, sipping wine from a plastic cup, while her face is almost glowing with golden light from the sunset in front of us. She's laughing too, and I don't think it's for any reason besides that she's happy... maybe it's the wine too.

"Ellison," I say her name and she turns her head to look at me. Her laughter is gone, but there's still a soft smile on her face and this slight daze in her eyes that's always present when she drinks wine. "I think you might be drunk."

"No, Harry," she says in a silly voice that definitely gives it away that she is in fact drunk. "I've only had," she pauses for a moment, looking up to count in her head. "Nevermind, I've had three of these by now... I'm probably drunk." 

Her lips are stained a little bit red from the cheap wine we're drinking and there's something about the way that she's sitting that makes everything feel calm, with her feet crossed over each other and her body leaning back a little as she uses one hand to prop her up. We're sitting on a hill, the hill, the hill in Brookings where I told Ellison that I was going to change her life. And it's the same as it was the first time, boxed wine, plastic cups... only we also brought a blanket to lounge on this time. We also happen to be nine years older than we were in the original moment on this hill, but I would say worse at holding our alcohol now than we were when were teenagers.

Elle has really never looked better. The lavender dress, her smile warm and soft from the wine, her hair long again with messy waves that fall to brush against her arm. And sometimes I wish I was the painter in this relationship because if I could capture how she looks right now, I think I would just stare at that painting forever.

"Harry, are you staring at my boobs?" I hear her ask, giggling as she looks at me again.

I wasn't actually staring at her boobs but it doesn't surprise me that she asks this question. It's a regular question that leaves her mouth and rightfully so. This lavender dress definitely doesn't do much to cover her chest and she knows the tendency of my eyes wandering to admire that.