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Authors: Nancy Thayer
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loose dress of fawn-colored silk, which, when she’d tried it on in the shop, had seemed dignified and subdued. Hanging from her closet door, it looked more like garment bag than garment.
Not so long ago, a new dress was a cause for excitement. Red dresses especially. She loved red dresses. With their flamboyant
look at me!
intensity, they aroused within her the kind of anticipation she might feel for a lover. A red dress invited the unexpected and promised excitement.
This dress promised comfort.
Not a bad thing. After all, Faye thought, a life, like the earth, has its seasons: the pastel blush of youthful spring, the green luxuriance of fertile summer, then the flames of autumn, in defiance of the approaching colorless winter. Faye was fading into the winter of her life. Her looks and powers were diminishing. She needed glasses, and she was beginning to consider the sense of hearing aids. Her mind, which had once flashed fast, efficient, and bright as a hummingbird, now flapped and squawked like a turkey.
Faye wasn’t afraid of the future. She hoped her death would reunite her with Jack. She had wonderful memories of her past: She’d been married to a man with whom she shared a profound love, she had a daughter and a granddaughter, and she had worked, for so many fulfilling years, at her art.
The present baffled her. She knew it was time for others to move into the spotlight. It was time for her
daughter
to wear red dresses. Faye wouldn’t change that for the world. But wasn’t there something more she could do with her life while she still had health and energy, sporadic as it was?
For starters, she counseled her reflection, she could attend this going-away party for Eloise Linley. Jack would want her to. And it would be a way of celebrating the retirement of a contemporary.
She began to make up her face. She’d never used foundation, but now she wondered whether she should, to even out her skin tones. Or would it emphasize her wrinkles? She made a mental note to buy some new eye-liner shades. The black she’d used for years stood out too harshly against her fading skin, giving her the horrified stare of an extra in a Stephen King movie. As she carefully painted her mouth, she remembered she used to assume old women’s lipstick was applied crookedly because they couldn’t see well. Now she realized it was the lips themselves that had become uneven, thinned with age and pleated with lines.
Never mind, she soothed herself, as she rose and slipped on the fawn silk dress. It looked elegant, and it felt blissful, sliding over her like water. She draped a long silk scarf swirling with roses around her neck, letting it hang loose almost to her waist—a trick she’d seen on television, this was supposed to elongate her appearance. She rubbed a tissue of fabric softener over her stockings and slip to prevent any static cling that would accentuate her bulges. She used to sprinkle her skirts with water for this purpose, until she realized any wet spots might hint at incontinence. She tucked an extra sheet of softener in her purse, clipped on a pair of gold earrings, stepped into her shoes, and blew her reflection a kiss.
After locking her kitchen door, she settled into the comfort of her BMW. She was just a little nervous as she drove toward downtown Boston and the spectacular new TransWorld building. She still wasn’t comfortable going out alone at night.
The traffic heading into Boston was light. She found the TransWorld parking garage, showed her invitation to the guard, and spiraled up to the fifth tier before she found a spot. She locked her car, patted its hood in appreciation of its friendly automotive beep, and headed toward the office complex.
Several others joined her as she entered the vast lobby. They all smiled, but the others were couples, and as they all crowded into the elevator, Faye felt shy. Odd, how when Jack was alive, she’d had no reluctance about entering a crowd by herself. She’d gone
Not so long ago, a new dress was a cause for excitement. Red dresses especially. She loved red dresses. With their flamboyant
look at me!
intensity, they aroused within her the kind of anticipation she might feel for a lover. A red dress invited the unexpected and promised excitement.
This dress promised comfort.
Not a bad thing. After all, Faye thought, a life, like the earth, has its seasons: the pastel blush of youthful spring, the green luxuriance of fertile summer, then the flames of autumn, in defiance of the approaching colorless winter. Faye was fading into the winter of her life. Her looks and powers were diminishing. She needed glasses, and she was beginning to consider the sense of hearing aids. Her mind, which had once flashed fast, efficient, and bright as a hummingbird, now flapped and squawked like a turkey.
Faye wasn’t afraid of the future. She hoped her death would reunite her with Jack. She had wonderful memories of her past: She’d been married to a man with whom she shared a profound love, she had a daughter and a granddaughter, and she had worked, for so many fulfilling years, at her art.
The present baffled her. She knew it was time for others to move into the spotlight. It was time for her
daughter
to wear red dresses. Faye wouldn’t change that for the world. But wasn’t there something more she could do with her life while she still had health and energy, sporadic as it was?
For starters, she counseled her reflection, she could attend this going-away party for Eloise Linley. Jack would want her to. And it would be a way of celebrating the retirement of a contemporary.
She began to make up her face. She’d never used foundation, but now she wondered whether she should, to even out her skin tones. Or would it emphasize her wrinkles? She made a mental note to buy some new eye-liner shades. The black she’d used for years stood out too harshly against her fading skin, giving her the horrified stare of an extra in a Stephen King movie. As she carefully painted her mouth, she remembered she used to assume old women’s lipstick was applied crookedly because they couldn’t see well. Now she realized it was the lips themselves that had become uneven, thinned with age and pleated with lines.
Never mind, she soothed herself, as she rose and slipped on the fawn silk dress. It looked elegant, and it felt blissful, sliding over her like water. She draped a long silk scarf swirling with roses around her neck, letting it hang loose almost to her waist—a trick she’d seen on television, this was supposed to elongate her appearance. She rubbed a tissue of fabric softener over her stockings and slip to prevent any static cling that would accentuate her bulges. She used to sprinkle her skirts with water for this purpose, until she realized any wet spots might hint at incontinence. She tucked an extra sheet of softener in her purse, clipped on a pair of gold earrings, stepped into her shoes, and blew her reflection a kiss.
After locking her kitchen door, she settled into the comfort of her BMW. She was just a little nervous as she drove toward downtown Boston and the spectacular new TransWorld building. She still wasn’t comfortable going out alone at night.
The traffic heading into Boston was light. She found the TransWorld parking garage, showed her invitation to the guard, and spiraled up to the fifth tier before she found a spot. She locked her car, patted its hood in appreciation of its friendly automotive beep, and headed toward the office complex.
Several others joined her as she entered the vast lobby. They all smiled, but the others were couples, and as they all crowded into the elevator, Faye felt shy. Odd, how when Jack was alive, she’d had no reluctance about entering a crowd by herself. She’d gone
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