Page 35 of The Design of Goodbye
“Not really,” I said weakly, embarrassed. “My mom would get—gets—like...actually pissed.”
She frowned. “I mean, everyone is different. My mom says it’s important to express my opinion, but that doesn’t mean she agrees with it. And while we do love trying to prove each other wrong, she’s never actually mad.”
I would never understand how Taylor could feel so open and trusting in her mom’s presence.
“Same goes for you,” added Taylor. “She’d love it if you offered your opinions more around here. She wouldn’t get mad. She’d value them a lot.”
I grabbed a spool of red thread and nervously rolled it in my palm. I wished I could express to Taylor how much that simple comment meant to me, but all I could muster was a “Thanks.”
“And I would, too,” she added. “I need all the help I can get. I want to know everything before I take over.”
“Take over Invisible Thread?”
Her excitement was obvious. “I’ve wanted to take over since I was ten. I want to add on custom embroidery services when I do.” She wistfully touched the black cat she’d sewn on her orange skirt. “I’m going to college for business first. Amy says it’s the right thing to do, but it’s hard. I’d rather work here full time and create, you know?”
“I do.” Then I asked, “Who’s Amy?”
“A friend.”
“I’ve never heard you mention her,” I said as she walked over to our storage cabinet and dug around one of the drawers. “Does she go to our school?”
She shook her head. “West Reed High. We met in yoga class.” She slammed the drawer shut, rotary cutter in hand. “What are your plans after high school?”
I debated telling her. Admitting my dreams out loud was terrifying. What if they didn’t come true? But it was nice to have someone who wanted to talk aboutrealstuff for once.
“I’m hoping to get into The Reed Art Institute. I applied a few months ago but haven’t heard back.” I paused. “You know about the Harbor Fashion Show, right?”
“How could I not?” she said, laughing. She sat back down but kept her attention on our conversation. “You’ve talked about it a lot.”
“Right,” I said, secretly happy she’d remembered. “I have. I can finally enter next May. I should already have my collection sketched out, but things changed because my mom...because she—”
“Went to Paris?”
“Yeah.”
“I know you’re sad she’s traveling,” said Taylor, “but how’s that stopping you?”
“I need her help. She was going to help me come up with ideas—I’ve always struggled with those.”
“You came up with the sleeve idea.”
“That’sdifferent.”
“It’s really not.”
I brushed her comment off because she was clearly being nice. “I sketch for hours every night and come up with nothing,” I said. “The only time I let myself sew is here because I refuse to create anything until I have the perfect sketch. The perfect idea.” Softly, I asked, “How can I enter the competition if I can’t come up with any original ideas?”
She thought for a minute. “I think you’re putting too much pressure on yourself to come up with original ideas. Same thing happens to me with my embroidery.”
“What do you do when you can’t come up with an idea?”
“I have fun with it.” She pointed to her skirt. “Perfect example: I couldn’t come up with anything to embroider on my skirt for Halloween, so I found a cute picture on Whirl and went with it. The process might surprise you. It mightgiveyou original ideas. For me, inspiration is weird...Sometimes, I need to create togetoriginal ideas.”
I tried not to be intrigued by Taylor’s idea, but what she was suggesting was like how I’d made my Halloween costumes—find a picture or a template online and have fun. I always had.
While I hadn’t wanted to design a costume for Halloween this year, maybe I could find something now that inspired me. But the competition was only six months away. I didn’t have time to waste designing random pieces.
“I don’t have much time.”
