Page 42 of Yumi and the Nightmare Painter
“Yumi?” Akane asked from outside. “You okay?”
“This bra,” she said, jumping again, “isincredible.”
“Never had one that fits right, eh?” Akane asked. “You’d be surprised the difference it makes.”
It was her intention to try on the pretty dress last, but…well, her curiosity got the better of her. She pulled it on, then looked at herself in the changing mirror. It was beautiful, like clouds above a deep blue sky—like the wind itself given shape and sent to embrace her.
But there was a magnetism to it beyond its overt beauty. It transformed her into someone else. Someone who could make a choice. It was the first time in herentire lifethat she’d made a decision just forherself.
Akane had brought her a small bag of toiletries, and inside was a brush. Yumi stroked her hair with this a few times, getting rid of the frazzles, then stood and stared at the mythical being in the mirror, feeling a disconnect, trying to accept that it was her.
“Well?” Akane called. “Come on! Let me see!”
Yumi blushed immediately, putting her hands to her bare shoulders. The previous layers had been too hot, but this was undoubtedly too cold. “I don’t know if I can,” she called out. “My shoulders are naked!”
“Ah!” Akane said. “Well, you’re lucky. BecauseIthought of that. Look at the first hook on your right for the matching top.”
Yumi looked and saw a short buttoning top. You might call it a dress cardigan, but it was a bit fancier than that—a little more stiff (of a denim blend) and shorter, not even reaching to her navel. It reminded Yumi a little of the top part of the tobok she wore among her people, only with shorter sleeves.
She removed it from its hanger and hesitantly pulled it on. It matched the dress nicely. The fit was close, and she sported adistinctlyfeminine silhouette. She tried not to be embarrassed about that as she opened the door.
Akane beamed at her. That gave Yumi a surge of confidence, like a flower rising high into the sky. One of the attendants had stayed, and this woman nodded thoughtfully and seemed approving as well.
Behind the two of them, Painter stood up straight, gawking at her. He probably thought she looked silly, as he knew the type of clothing sheshouldbe wearing.
“That iswonderful,” Akane said. “We’re getting that one forsure. But here, try on the others! Youhaveto see this pink one…”
Akane stepped in and dug through the dresses to find a specific choice. Yumi raised her chin and met Painter’s eyes. He was still staring at her. Well, for once she didn’t care if she looked improper. The spirits had demanded a lot of her these last few days.
It was blasphemous, but she had decided it was time for her to demand something in return. She wantedpossessionsfor the first time in her life. So it was that an hour later, she trotted out of the store wearingthe blue dress and clutching a package containing two other outfits of slightly different styles. Hers. Actuallyhers. Granted, she wouldn’t be able to bring them back to her land, where her life—once this was over—would go back to the way it always was.
For now, she got to live a dream. That almost made all of this chaos worth it. And as she walked home with Akane, she noticed something else. No one was staring at her anymore.
Painter had beenright, she realized with amazement. No one here knew what she was. No one here cared. Now that she wasn’t dressed in such ridiculous clothing, now that she fit in, she was just…normal.
It was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her.
“All right,” Akane said, stopping outside the apartment building. “I need to get ready for work. The foreman throws a fit if I go painting in a miniskirt. You have food? Upstairs?”
“Um…” Yumi said. “Technically itcountsas food.”
“Uh-huh. Come back to the lobby in ten minutes. I’m meeting friends for lunch before shift at a noodle shop nearby. You’ll join us.”
“I’m being too much of a burden,” Yumi said, lowering her head.
“You? A burden?” Akane laughed. “Please, Yumi. You’re not going to deny me the chance to show off my fashion pupil to my friends, are you?”
Nearby, Painter was shaking his head urgently. That, mixed with her growling stomach, was the decider.
“Of course I’ll go with you,” Yumi said. “Let me go drop these things off at my brother’s room.”
“What’s a noodleshop?” Yumi asked, arranging her new outfits on the floor.
“Place where you can pay,” Painter explained, “and people bring you food.” He lingered in the doorway, watching her. It was surreal how a simple outfit change made her seem like she belonged. All of a sudden he could picture her here, in his life.
“People bring you food,” she said. “You don’t have to make it yourself?”
“No.”
