The Dress

Chapter 4

The night is hazy and the smell of heavy smoke drifts in the air. My clothes are tattered and muddy. My feet are sore and I can't control my breathing. I can't run anymore so I stop and sit down, ignoring the cold, uncomfortable feeling of the mud on my behind.

I enjoy the feeling of the breeze as it brushes against my skin. I close my eyes for a second to enjoy the sensation.

The night is in shambles and the shrieks of young ones fill the air. The distant sound of dogs barking sprinkle the atmosphere.

I take in a deep breath and I slowly let it out. I've been running for ages now, I think I've lost her.

"Or have you?"

What? Where did that come from?

"Hello?" I call out. No answer.

I quickly stand up and wipe the mud off of my now wet behind. I better keep running.

"That won't help you, Brooklyn. I'm here now."

I wake up sweating and shaking on the floor. Where am I?

I look around trying to recognise my unfamiliar surroundings but it's too dark and I can't see anything.

I stand up and try to make my way around the dark so I can find a light switch.

Turns out I fell asleep in the living room. I'm not necessarily sure how I fell asleep here and I'm not sure whom exactly brought this blanket but this is creepy and I'm going to my room.

The Next Day

"Done, that's the last box," my mother says while wiping a drop of sweat from her brow.

I didn't expect us to finish furnishing the house so quickly, my dad really helped and I guess my mother is super excited about the move so she's got quite a lot of motivation.

Although I honestly believe my mother pushed for us to finish so quickly because of my father. She's been wanting to spend some time with him lately since he's rarely ever home. Him not being around as much as he used to be has made my mother feel a tad bit lonely, I know this because back at our old house I always used to find her sitting in the kitchen during the middle of the night with her eyes red.

Flashback

"Mom? What are you doing up so late?"

This has been the third night in a row since I've found my mother in the kitchen crying. Usually I pretend that I haven't seen her but today she looks worse and I feel compelled to ask her. I slowly approach her and rest my hand on her back.

"What's wrong?" I ask her, trying to mask the pain in my voice.

My mother lowers her head and rests it on her hands and begins to sob. I stand next to her and continuously pat her back trying to calm her down. When she stops she looks back up at me. Her eyes are swollen and red, fresh tears stain her now flushed cheeks. She stares into my eyes as if she were searching for something, as if I am the one who knows the reason as to why she is sitting here right now, sobbing into her hands. She looks down and starts to fiddle with the loose string at the end of her night gown. I wait for her to speak, giving her the time that she needs.

"Your father-" my mother's voice cracks and she begins to cough. I reach over and grab a glass of water for her on the counter. I patiently wait for her to drink it, she downs it quickly. She then clears her throat and begins to speak again.

"Your father has been unfaithful," she says. Her voice is now hoarse from all the crying. I can't believe my ears, even though the signs always led to that, it has always been a worst case scenario for me. I love my father and he is such an honest man, I want to deny it but I wait so I can hear what else my mother has to say.

She begins to bite her chapped, bottom lip, trying to hold back another sob as she tries to speak again.

"I know this because three days ago your father and I had a dinner reservation at the restaurant around the corner and it is very difficult to get in there. I had been waiting for weeks, Lyn. When I finally managed to get a table your father cancelled on me because of work. As usual." My mother pauses trying to regain her breath.

I'm sure she is speaking in such a hurry because she doesn't want to cry again.
She then continues.

"The news disappointed me a bit but I didn't have a problem because his work is what puts food on our table so I did not question his reasoning. Not wanting to stay in and sulk all night I decided to call my sister so that we could take advantage of the table I had managed to reserve. We happened to arrive about ten minutes late and luckily they only give away your table after an hour so we weren't worried."

My mother pauses again, this time not to regain her breath but as if to confirm to herself that what she is saying is the truth. The cold truth. When she does speak again, the bitterness is now evident in her voice.

"When we arrive at the restaurant I speak to the man at the desk and tell him about my reservation. The man looked a bit confused but looked at his computer. He paused for a bit and then he spoke."

'Dinner reservation for Quaglio, party of two?' He asked. I confirmed and then he shook his head. 'Someone has already claimed this table ma'am. Are you sure you made a reservation?' He asked. I was already getting infuriated with the poor man because he was holding us up for quite some time. He continued to speak 'Ma'am I've seen a lot of people come in here and claim that they have made a reservation when in fact they did not. I would not like to start a ruckus in here so leave.'

"I was staring at the man with rage, not believing what he had just said, I was about to reply when my sister tapped my shoulder and told me to look up ahead. She didn't say much, only pointed."

My mother's voice then begins to crack when she speaks.

"When I saw what my sister was pointing at I felt the wind get knocked right out of me. I felt numb from my feet to my head. Sitting right in front of us was your father and this woman I had never seen before. Not knowing what to do I ran out of that restaurant and I ran back home and for the life of me I couldn't get what I had just seen out of my head."

My mother stops telling her tale and then looks back down at her hands.

"I don't know what I did to deserve this," my mother says in between sobs.

I hadn't realised I had started crying, when I wipe my face a pool of water forms at my fingertips and that's when I notice the blood trapped between my fingernails. Turns out I had balled my hand into a very tight fist.

I look at my mother crying and I immediately hug her very tight. She hugs me back and a few muffled words escape her lips. But I calm her down, holding my tears in. I know now at this moment that I need to be strong.

Strong for the both of us.