Page 46 of People In Love
All pre-loved, but still of the highest quality with no repairs required, the woman says. Please keep in mind that we don’t provide alterations or returns.
Nora rather thinks she sounds as if she’s reeling off a script she recites several times a day; but there’s an edge, too. Not boredom, exactly. Contempt.
Everything you see is labelled up at our very best price, the woman goes on, not making eye contact with either of them. So please don’t try to haggle me down further if you find one that you like.
Oh, says Nora. I wouldn’t –
They’re all old season, of course, all with a unique history behind them, so if you want brand new, or something that can be nipped and tucked to fit your figure – she looks Nora up and down, at this – then I suggest you go elsewhere.
A beat, then. Bren is frowning.
No, Nora says, I want something sustainable, definitely. Second-hand.
We prefer the term Vintage Couture, the woman says, and Bren says what’s the difference, and Nora talks over him, says sure, sorry, thank you.
Nod from the woman then, press of her lips. The dressing room’s over there; she’s got another customer in an hour, so take a look at what you’d like to try; she’d recommend three, four if you’re quick. Then pop these on the hangers – she hands Nora a set of wooden pegs – and once you’re down to your underwear I’ll help you into your choices. Please don’t touch the dresses without my assistance.
Wouldn’t dare, Bren says, and the woman looks at him properly for the first time.
Are you the groom, she asks, eyeing him the way she’d eyed Nora. The air seems to tighten, somehow, even though Nora had fully expected this question, at some point; she tenses, folds her own arms.
Nope, Bren says. I’m the best man.
The best man? I’ve had brothers in here, before. Friends. But never the bestman.
He’smybest man, Nora says. Notthebest man.
Depending on your perspective, Bren says.
I see, the woman says, though Nora is not sure that she does. Her lipstick is the exact shade of her skin, she realises now, which is just one shade lighter than her jumpsuit. Everything considered, orderly. No room for blurred lines; best men of brides, or the muddied feelings that might stir up.
I’ll give you fifteen minutes to browse, the beige woman says, gesturing to the dresses behind her. I’d suggest starting at the front, here, and working your way through each rail, even if you think you know what you want. Most women do, but then their body shape dictates something entirelydifferent. You’re a pear, aren’t you, she says, with another glance at Nora’s waistline. So I’d suggest a fuller skirt.
Thank you, Nora says, though she’s not quite sure what she’s thanking her for, and then the woman is clacking away in her beige heels when Bren says wait, sorry what?
Told you, she murmurs, and it’s meant to be light, uncaring – remember the judgement I knew was coming – but Bren says no, excuse me, raising his voice so that the beige woman stops walking, turns around.
What just happened, he asks her.
Bren, Nora says.
Why did you just compare her to a pome fruit, he asks, and the woman stares at him. A star, maybe, or the fucking sun, sure, Bren goes on, and there’s that warmth again, blazing in Nora’s chest. Her clam-heart, broken open.
The beige woman keeps staring at Bren for a long, hard moment, and then at Nora, who says sorry, it’s – it’s fine. Tilt of the woman’s chin, then, before she turns once again and crosses the floor to the glass office in the back. Shuts the door.
Charmed, Bren says, but Nora is rattled now. Because of the dress thing, but also the Bren thing; the melt of her, at what he’d just said.
I think we should go, she says. This doesn’t feel right.
Bren turns from the office and looks Nora’s way, and his eyes are alight with an outrage she’s seen before, when they were young. When some guys from his school woofed at her, in some moronic reference, probably, to her mismatched irises. Calling her Collie Dog, or something, she didn’t care.
But Bren did.
He always did, even if, back then, he wouldn’t say it.
I think it feels right enough, he says. You wanted to try on wedding dresses, didn’t you? And we’re in a room full of them.
But I –
