The Red Dress
by Barbara C. Stephens
She saw the dress in a store window as she was waiting for the bus. It was feminine and provocative, all the things she wasn’t. The dress was cut just low enough at the neckline and high enough at the hem to tantalize about what lay underneath. But the most arresting thing about it was the color. The deep crimson emitted an aura of excitement and promise. It was a dress to attract attention, to make people sit up and notice.
“How would Harold like it?” she wondered and then realized what a foolish question it was. Harold wouldn’t like it. He wouldn’t like the color, the style, the price, or anything about it. It would undermine his control and change the unspoken assumption of their relationship.
She had married Harold five years ago after a brief relationship. He had come along during a bad time in her life. She had just celebrated her 30th birthday, and her parents had died within a few months of each other the prior year.
“It’s not you,” Harold would say. “You know I like you in softer colors. You’re not the sexy type. Are you trying to attract some other man?” To these comments she would respond as she always did. “Sorry, darling. Just thought I’d try something new, but if you don’t like it, of course I’ll take it back.”
As she played this dialog out in her mind, she thought of all the times that she had bent to his will, the many decisions of their life together where his wishes prevailed. But they were nothing compared to the most horrific situation he had forced upon her. In her mind, she relived that day in the abortion clinic constantly. On the way home, she had felt empty, like a cell without its nucleus. Harold had asked if she would like to stop somewhere for a drink, perhaps dinner. She felt like a child being offered a reward for good behavior.
With a start, she realized the bus was approaching. She suddenly turned and entered the store. “How may I help you?” asked the lady behind the counter.
“I want to try on the red dress in the window.” she answered. When she shut the dressing room door, she looked at the dress again. It was so beautiful. She quickly undressed and pulled the dress on. The mirror in front of her had reflected a drab and pale image, but with the dress she was transformed. The color brought out her skin tones and made her hair and eyes appear darker. She smiled and turned to get a better view of herself. The dress was perfect. She visualized wearing it to a restaurant or the theater, but she and
Harold rarely dined out. “Why waste money,” he would say, “when you’re such a good cook.”
The one time they went to the theatre was soon after they married. Harold had surprised her with tickets to a popular stage play. She had been so excited to see a live performance, but he had complained the whole time. Parking was so expensive. The people in front of them had chattered through the play. The performers were “phoning it in,” and on and on.
“I’ll take it.” She was surprised by her own decision, as if it didn’t come from her, but some other woman who would add the red dress to a collection of dresses like it.
She brought the dress home and hid it away. Every now and then, as the years passed, when Harold wasn’t home, she would bring it out and try it on. The mirror would show the same sparkle in her eyes and look of anticipation on her face that had been reflected in the store mirror the day she bought the dress. Each time she put it on, it became harder and harder to take off. Sadly, she would hang it on a padded hanger and cover it in plastic and push it to the back of her closet. Sometimes, she would just reach under the bag to feel the silky material. She would imagine putting on the dress for an evening out. She would have the proper shoes to go with it. She would also imagine wearing jewelry aside from her plain gold wedding ring, perhaps a necklace with matching earrings. Her imagination would soar, and she would dance in the dress. It would move and twirl with her body. She would be smiling and laughing with her dance partner. It would be so enjoyable. Then, she would be brought back to the present and she would close the closet door softly.
Finally, one morning she leisurely took the dress from her closet. This time she wouldn’t hide it away again. She would leave the house wearing it. When she returned she would hang it where she could look at it. She would go to the shop again and find another dress like it – a dress full of promises. But when she pulled it over her head, she felt resistance. She struggled into it and looked in the mirror. It didn’t fit the way it had in the store that long ago day, and the color had faded. Instead of bringing out the glow on her cheeks and in her eyes, it made her look dull and lifeless. She couldn’t wear it now. Tears came to her eyes, but she wiped them away. Resolutely, she took off the dress and carefully hung it back in the closet. Then she reached for the black dress she knew would be more appropriate and left the house for the cemetery.
Barbara Stephens: I moved to Cary, NC a year ago. I'm a senior citizen who has always loved to write. Contact Barbara.
