“If it wasn’t I wouldn’t have gone to dinner with him,” I say with a hint of aggravation in my voice, although she’s probably just trying to gauge when things will be okay between her and me. If she would make the kind of move that Cal did, then I think I could find a way to trust her again. To give her some credit, she does seem to be headed in the right direction.
“Right, well … I’m glad you two had a great time,” she smiles. “What about Miller? Have you heard from him?”
Damn! Why does he keep coming up? I’ve been spending the day happily avoiding any thought of him and now Addy just had to ask about him.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Do … you … want to hear from him?” she asks cautiously.
“I would love to hear from him,” I tell her. “Cal actually suggested I hop on the next plane to Savannah to find Miller and tell him how I feel.” I give a small laugh at how absurd that sounds now.
“You can’t do that,” Addy says adamantly.
“Why not?” I narrow my eyes at her and feel the wall I had begun taking down go right back up.
“You just can’t. What if you go down there and you can’t even find him? Does he live on campus? At home? Does he work? What’s his class schedule? Are you just going to wander around his campus until you find him?” she says rapidly.
I think for a second before I respond to Addison’s objections, and smile knowing that for the first time I know I have options of what I can say.
“You know what, Addy?” I say directly. “Six months ago I would have said, ‘You’re so right. There’s no way I can go down there.’ Three months ago I would have said, ‘Screw you. I’m going anyway,’ just to spite you. Today I’m telling you that I haven’t decided what I’m going to do. But regardless, it will be my choice. The beauty of that is that I get to live with the choices I make. I can mess up or have complete victory. Either way, I don’t have to wait on you or anyone else to tell me what to do.
“I may decide not to go. But if I do, I have no idea what will happen. I could go down there and find Miller only to discover that he’s moved on. I could walk through his door and him be so happy to see me. I can live with whatever happens because I would have made the decision to find out.”
“What would say to him if you saw him?” she asks, seemingly taken down a notch or two by my assertion.
“I don’t know. Maybe I’d yell at him for leaving the way he did. Maybe I’d throw my arms around him and tell him exactly how much I missed him. Maybe both.”
Addy ponders this with tight lips and fidgeting fingers. “Can you at least wait until after my show tomorrow night? It’s really important to me that you’re there.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do about Miller, Addy. But I said I would be there tomorrow night, and I will,” I answer.
“Thank you,” she says with a sigh. “Um … I’ve gotta go. I have some final things to finish for the show and then I’m meeting some people for dinner. You can meet up with us, if you want to.”
“I’ve got some editing to do. I’ll be ordering in tonight, but thanks for the invitation.”
Addy opens her arms to hug me. I hug her back tentatively and remember what it felt like to be close to her. I miss my sister. I really do. Every second of our life together wasn’t treacherous. It’s those times that I miss, and wonder if Addy misses them, too.
I close the door behind her and sit back at my desk. Talking about Miller broke my resolve and I immediately click on one of his pictures. As soon as it fills the screen, the excitement I felt around him erupts inside me.
“What’s going on with you, Miller?” I think aloud.
Tapping my nails on the desk I let go and really consider my options. I pull out a piece of paper and draw a line down the middle. I write “PRO” on one side and “CON” on the other.
PRO: I will have made a decision based on what I wanted to do.
CON: I’d be headed to a city I’ve never been to before and have no clue where to begin to look for Miller.
PRO: Miller could be relieved that I took the first step to getting us back together.
CON: Things could turn awkward because I didn’t take the hint that Miller has moved on.
PRO: At least I’d have closure.
CON: Closure would mean things are really over with Miller.
“Gahhh! Why does this have to be so hard? Why can’t I just chalk it up to a summer romance with Miller and move on?” I wonder exasperatedly out loud. “Because it wasn’t just a summer romance. It was so much more. It was a life-changing experience for me and Miller needs to know that. He needs to know that being with him gave me courage and strength. He spawned that in me, and no matter where he is on the spectrum of his feelings for me, I can’t let any more time pass without letting him know.”
I open up my browser and look for the next flight out. Oh, crap. I can’t. I told Addison I’d be at her show tomorrow. Okay … what are my flight options for tomorrow night? I narrow my search and find two possibilities: 7:35 pm and 10:55 pm. Better take the later one so I have time to go to Addy’s show and get to the airport without having to tell the cabbie to hurry. Telling a cabbie to rush is a death wish. They live for the chance to weave in and out of city traffic. I grab my wallet and a few clicks later I’m printing out my flight confirmation.
I just printed my flight confirmation. Holy crap! What have I done?
I stand and pace the room, filled with a mixture of buyer’s remorse and jilted-girlfriend-turned-stalker shame.
“Am I really going to do this? I’m really going to do this,” I begin chanting to myself quietly. “There’s no turning back now. The non-refundable ticket has been bought.” With my heart racing I circle the room and land in front the mirror. My eyes are wide and my mouth is gaping open.
“Stop,” I command myself. I take a deep breath and close my eyes as I let it out. I don’t open them again until I’m sure I’ve calmed down. My heartbeat begins to regulate and my mind is clearing. “It’s okay. You’ve got this. No matter what happens, at the end of the day you were brave and confident, visible and valuable … happy.”
I smile and then twist my mouth as an idea pops into my head. In order to execute it, though, I’ll need some help from my little wordsmith. I’ve been keeping in touch with Margaret these past few months, mostly in part because I wanted to make sure she was doing as great after camp as she was when we left. It’s only been a few months, but she and her cabin mates are still emailing and texting at least a couple times a week. I’m so happy that what could have turned into a tragic experience for her became something that probably saved her life.
I type out an email to Margaret explaining my idea to her. Within minutes she has replied with exactly what I need, and the ball of my plan is officially rolling.
*****
Longest. Class. Ever. I thought Pendleton would never shut up. I feel badly about being so short with Jared when he approached me, but I had to go back to my dorm and throw a few things in my overnight bag in case I’m not left heartbroken and scurrying back to the airport to catch the redeye home. I would have packed before class but between my back pack and camera, adding my overnight bag was just too much to carry.
The arts building is ten blocks from my dorm so I step to the curb to hail a cab. Cab after cab whizzes by, leaving me looking like an idiot as I flail my hand in desperation. It’s 3:45 pm and Addy’s presentation starts in fifteen minutes. I don’t know if she’s going first or not so I’m starting to stress.
A cab finally pulls up to the curb. I shout the address and I barely get the door closed before he’s zooming off. I didn’t even tell him I was in a hurry, but he’s weaving in and out of traffic and I’m pretty sure he ran two lights. Despite his Mario Andretti driving skills, I’m still twenty minutes late for the show. I follow the signs and pray to God that Addy is going last.
I sneak up to the door to the auditorium and peek through the window. There are a few girls crossing the stage like
it’s a runway, and another girl standing at the podium. Thank you, God! It’s not Addy. I pull the door open as quietly as I can and find a seat. It’s not a huge room, able to seat only about a hundred people, and by my estimation, the room is about half full.
I put my overnight bag at my feet and my sweater on as I wait for this girl to be done. Her designs are okay, but I know they won’t compare to Addison’s. She finally finishes and receives a lackluster response from the audience. Either everyone thought her designs were mediocre, or most of the audience is filled with Addison’s friends.
“Thank you, Ashley. That was your most creative venture yet,” the polite instructor says. “Now for what I believe is a fresh approach to fashion by Addison Carmichael.”
I applaud with the crowd as Addy takes her place at the podium. She looks a little nervous as she scans the room. I think she’s looking to see if I’m here, so I sit up straight and raise my hand just up to my ear. I catch her eye and her whole body seems to relax. She takes a deep breath and begins to read from her index cards.
“For years, fashion has been driven by what some genius designer in Paris or London or New York thinks the women of the world want and need. They create designs based on the body type of an emaciated fifteen-year-old girl and market them without blinking an eye. Does that seem as backwards to you as it does me? Well, it didn’t used to sound so backwards to me. There was a time when I bought into the philosophy that truly beautiful women could wear these delusional designs.” Addy looks straight at me in the audience and gives me a small smile. “Not anymore.
“Fashion should accentuate and accessorize the beauty a woman holds within her heart and soul, because, let’s face it, we’ve all me a gorgeous model who turns into a super bitch the moment she opens her mouth. This evening I’d like to introduce to you a line of clothing that virtually any woman can wear. A line of clothing that will make any woman, no matter what size she wears, feel amazing. After all, size is just a stupid number. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Kinley Couture.”
I watch as two girls walk to the front of the stage. One girl is as small as Addy is. The other girl is at least a size fourteen. They are wearing the exact same outfit. Addy leaves the podium and meets the two girls who are standing center-stage.
“Lena is wearing the original cut of this outfit. The pants have a low rise and rest below her waist. The top has cap sleeves and is narrowly shaped through the waist. Katrina on the other hand is not built like a flat-chested, twelve-year-old girl …” Both Addy and Lena chuckle. “So, she needs more room in the bust. You’ll see we’ve also extended the length of the sleeve so it’s shorter than a standard short-sleeve, but longer than a cap sleeve. The pants also have a longer rise, but will still rest just below her waist. Thank you, girls.”
Tears well up in my eyes and I have to fight from morphing into the ugly cry. I can’t believe what I witnessing. My sister has created a clothing line that anyone can wear. No wonder she wanted me to be here tonight. This is her olive branch. This is her way of telling me that she gets it.
“Next, Brynn and Elise are going to show you how to totally fab up your Friday night!” Addy seems even more at ease, and even a little excited now that she’s gotten through the first set of girls. She’s probably seen my reaction, too, which I would imagine is a relief for her.
Two more girls walk out in gorgeous red dresses and this time the smaller of the two looks like she could be a healthy size ten, while the other girl is easily a sixteen, or maybe an eighteen. And just like the two girls before them, they are both beautiful.
“Brynn’s sleeveless dress tapers in at the natural waist and has a flared skirt. Elise’s dress has a slightly longer cap sleeve, a higher waist, and an A-line skirt. Essentially it’s the same dress, just cut differently to accentuate the best features of each girl.”
The girls walk off the stage and Addy resumes her place at the podium. “I know it seems like an unconventional idea to create a line of couture that ranges in size from zero to twenty, but it must be done. It’s time. In fact, my dream is to make it possible to customize this line to any size.” Addy sighs and looks down. When her head comes back up, she finds me again and I make a point to lock my eyes on her. If ever we were going to have that unexplainable telekinesis that twins have, now would be the time so she would know that I see what she’s doing and am overwhelmed with joy. “Really,” she continues. “It’s not about the clothes. It’s not about the number on the label. It’s about realizing that we need to care more about whether a person is kind and compassionate or if they’re mean and heartless. At the end of our lives, no one cares who you’re wearing at your funeral. They care who you were, how you spent your life. So let’s spend our lives making women everywhere accentuate and accessorize their beautiful souls with Kinley Couture. Thank you.”
This might seem like a weird way to say you’re sorry, but for Addy it’s huge. She took a risk with her grades … with her career. She took everything she has ever said to me about fashion and turned it on its head. It seems that these months apart have been as evolutionary for Addy as they have been for me.
Addy’s instructor thanks the audience, but it’s difficult to hear her above the thunderous applause. A few people even give her a standing ovation. The crowd begins to disperse but I stay in my seat, waiting for Addison to emerge from behind the stage. When she does, she stops and watches to see what I’m going to do. I stand, grab my bag, and walk down the aisle. She moves toward me and we seem to meet in symbolically in the middle.
“Kinley …”
I throw my arms around her neck, cutting her off. “That was amazing, Addy. Thank you.” We stand there holding each other like long-lost sisters, finally meeting for the first time.
“I’m so sorry, Kinley. I never wanted to hurt you.” She tilts her head back and flutters her eyes, trying to keep the tears from coming. “I hated the way people looked at us and judged you. Ever since we were kids. I remember being eleven and swearing I wasn’t going to let anyone judge you again. The problem was that I thought the way to make that happen, was for you to look like me. I mean, all I ever heard was how pretty I was. That sounds nice until you realize no one thinks you’re smart.
“The more effort I put into trying to change you, the more determined I became. It was like a mission and it wasn’t about you anymore. It was about achieving some Eliza Doolittle transformation. And you went along with it … because you loved me, and you believed that I loved you. And I did. I do. But I made you question that, and I’m so, so sorry.”
Tears stream down Addy’s face. She wipes them delicately in her Addison way to reduce the chance of forming wrinkles. She’s broken and that’s a good thing. She had to get to a point where her whole heart and mindset changed.
“I missed you so much, Kin. I didn’t miss dressing you or giving you pointers on how to reduce your calorie intake, or even sending you over to talk to some cute guy for me. I missed sitting on the floor of our room eating popcorn and watching terrible movies. I missed having someone to talk to about Dad and Christine. I missed sitting quietly with you while we both read. I just missed your whole presence.”
“I missed you, too. But I missed the little girl who would swing with me on the playground. I missed the girl who refused to do gymnastics unless her sister could do it, too. I missed the girl who made sure I never ate lunch alone.” I smile and take Addy’s hands in mine. “But … it looks like that girl might be back, and that makes me really, really happy.”
Addison smiles, but it fades quickly. “Kin, I can’t tell you how sorry I am about what happened with Cal. I really thought …”
“It’s over, Addy. Cal and I are great. You and I are great,” I assure her.
“I don’t know what else I have to do, but whatever it is … I’ll do it.”
“It’s over. We are both in a different, eternally better place than we were three months ago. Let’s just live in that and move on.” I don’t give her a chance to
argue by taking her in my arms again and hugging her harder than I ever have before. When I release her, she pats her face dry again and smiles a purely happy smile.
“Um, Kin … what’s up with the bag?” she asks curiously.
“Well … I made up my mind. I’m going to see Miller,” I tell her confidently.
“Kinley, I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” Addy expresses her protest again but the feeling is very different now that we’ve made amends. Even yesterday when I saw that she was changing, I was still so guarded. All that has changed for us now.
“I appreciate your concern, but the ticket has been bought and there’s no going back.” She sighs and looks like she’s about to strenuously object to my plan again, but I stop here. “Listen, Addy … this whole making-my-own-choices thing is new to me. I was so used to hanging on every word you said before I made a move. Now that I’m taking control of my life, I am going to do some leaping, and I might not always look first. But it feels good to know that if I walk outside in an outfit that’s a hot mess, it’s my hot mess. And if I go down to Georgia and everything with Miller blows up in my face, at least I can know that I lit the fuse.”
“Okay,” she says agreeably with a smile.
“You want to ride to the airport with me?” I ask with a smile.
“I can’t. I’ve got clean up here. But there are some sketches I’d love your feedback on! Do you have time before you have to go?”
“Sure. I’d love to check them out,” I tell her. Addy smiles and we walk out into the hallway. “I can’t believe you came up with this line!”
“It’s really your idea. We used to look fashion magazines and you would say that you wished those runway outfits came in a size actual, real people wear. I realized that you were right and there was no reason someone couldn’t make that happen. You were my inspiration. You are my inspiration, and I would do anything for you, Kinley.” Addy’s voice is soft and warm as she smiles peacefully at me.
She opens the door to another room and motions for me to enter first. There is what looks like a clothes line stretching along one short wall with sketches hanging from it on individual clips. Only, the sketches aren’t of Addison’s designs.
As I Am Page 23
