Having taken another shower, I sit before the dressing table to prepare myself. Even though it is for a date, I don't do much in terms of makeup, only to prevent inconveniences, and take care of my skin.
Yes, if there is something that has not almost been drowned by the tide that has been bothering me in my mind since the accident, coming and going, sometimes fierce sometime just a whisper of a reminder, then it is the desire that any girl grows up with, to not be ugly, to be beautiful, even if for that time, money and attention have to be invested.
Still, while my lips keep their natural color, and I don't paint any part of my face, after taking care of the rest, I can help but linger on my hair, to make the tips of its strands curl up just that much more, and comb it while looking for that subtle difference that will give me another look.
Despite myself, I'm about to spend an hour just for the shower and for dressing. And I have yet to start picking what I will wear, because while I have narrowed down my choices already, I know I will be making extensive comparisons before my final decision.
As those thoughts pass through my mind, I freeze, the difference with it would have been if I just needed pants and a shirt before casually combing my hair and taking off.
I exhale, and with one last brush, I set the hair brush down, settle my nervous heart, and satisfy myself with the result I have got.
It seems like I have settled down, and I have come to have feelings rippling through the numbness I have been dealing with. Whether it is liking beyond friendship, I can say.
Thinking about Emmie, I touch tips pointing upward of my hair tucked behind my ear on one side, and stand up. And I wonder what to wear. Because I suddenly let the wind blow away my shortlist.
I exhale, again. It is troublesome being a girl. No, it is troublesome having desires, especially to be beautiful, good looking.
I go to the wardrobe, and I start by the sweater to wear. Unfortunately, this is Liz's room, and it is not big enough for me to have shifted all my things here.
With just a bathrobe and slippers, I leave the room and go to mine, to my wardrobe that only sees activity now when I'm lacking something I have not moved away. I resume looking through the sweater to choose from, because that will be the first to be noticed when I arrive at my destination. That, or a jacket, if that is what I end up choosing.
I ignore the white sweater. I may have been dealing well with my traumas, but that red that showered me, and tainted my dress a few months ago still haunts me, not like a harsh sun, but like a calm, unassuming, but ever-present moon.
I strive not to think about that, and not to focus on that sweater, and I also ignore the dark jacket next to it. Too austere, at least for a date, especially… a first, official one. Still, not the light pink sweater either.
Not long later, I stop before the mirror in the light pink, slightly fluffy sweater, wearing short boots of the same color and dark leggings below. I choose this in the end because it is a gift from Emmie, one that she said set off the healthy tone of my rather fair skin, while the boots keep me warm.
Tucking my hair back where I have combed it before all my movements shift it, I smile at myself from the corner of my mouth. More relaxed, but a faint nervous anticipation pressing on my chest, I descend the stairs to return to the living room.
Liz raises her head to me, and her eyes brighten.
"Woah, you have outdone yourself! That's rare! Are you going on a date?"
I don't say anything at the compliment, but my smile does all the talking.
"But weren't you going to a party with Emmie? Or… is she your date?"
My face warms up, and I turn away slightly, out of some faint, unexpected shyness, and deeper than that, out of fear, or more precisely, out of apprehension for Liz's reaction.
And my reaction gives her the answer again, but Liz is that same sister who has always been gentle but strong, understanding and empathetic, and most of all, always accepting, without ever being judgemental. Her smile that seems unable to ever be anything but gentle, no matter how deep, or colored by emotions, spread wider.
"Wow~~~ So, what is the plan for the night? Did you prepare special undies? Provocative red? Or sexy black? Or pure and untainted?"
"Sis!!"
I'm indignant, embarrassed when I thought I didn't have it in me to feel that from being teased anymore, and I'm outraged.
"I'll have you know that it is blue!! Dark blue! And without any significance!"
"Hahahaha…"
The laugh Liz replies with rubs me in the wrong way, so much that I almost jump on her to tickle her to wipe it away from her face.
I grit my teeth, then turn away.
"Humph!"
But that only feeds her laughter, and keeps the silence at bay for longer.
I frown, and pout. Then a small smile appears at the corner of my lips. Only with Liz do I forget the maturity that has been forced on me with the accident, and what came with it, or after.
I shoot her a sidelong glance, then go to the kitchen for a glass of the milk in the fridge. It is like an act of revenge, as I glare at her when drinking her own milk, as well as a refueling.
Liz smiles, her maturity a contrast to my childishness. I empty my glass, then fill it, to the edge this time, before going to place it before Liz.
"Here, more energy to keep laughing."
"Stay safe and have fun. You may forget to come home tonight if you want!"
I close the door behind me, and exhale heavily. I pretend that I didn't hear the last part Liz has raised her voice to make me hear. Looking at the decorated shops and gates along the streets, I breathe in the cold, and put my hands in the pockets of the sweater.
I'd better focus on my date.