46
Valentina
Normally, when Birdie and Ava suggest a shopping adventure, I like to sit out. It’s not that I don’t enjoy shopping; I just never caught the bug like they did.
Growing up, most of my clothes just showed up in my room.
If they didn’t fit, I had to make myself fit into them rather than go out and buy new ones.
When I got to college, the most shopping I did was to get more of what my parents had already bought for me.
I was just able to try things on before I bought them.
But today feels different.
Birdie and Ava take off in different directions as soon as we walk through the thrift shop doors. I take a slower approach, walking down the first aisle of the store but not quite touching anything yet.
I have no idea what my style actually is.
Don’t get me wrong, I do love the clothes I’ve been wearing for most of my life, but I don’t think they are me anymore.
The structured, elegant style of someone who’s meant to be seen in a high-class society, like my parents wanted for me.
Now, I want to try something new. Something bold.
I reach into the rack and pull out a random shirt. The solid black doesn’t give off anything exciting until I turn it around. My fingers run over the graphic—a simple guitar that most people would probably not look into. But it’s blue like the color of Huxley’s first guitar.
Next thing I know, I’m pulling a cart out and dropping all my finds inside before going back for more. Some may think I don’t have a strategy for how I’m picking up clothes, but I do. And that strategy is? Grab anything that makes me feel the way Huxley makes me feel; allowed.
Allowed to be happy.
Allowed to be safe.
Allowed to be myself.
After at least an hour of digging through racks and piling clothes into my cart, I head to the front of the store to meet up with Birdie and Ava.
They both look at my overflowing cart as I approach.
“What is all this?” Birdie asks, and I immediately notice the edge in her voice.
Before I can think too much of it, Ava jumps in. “Are you doing a new project with clothes? That would be very cool.”
I shake my head as a slow feeling of dread spreads through me. “No. I just felt drawn to all of this.” I try to smile, but it fails. “I mean, what’s wrong with changing my style a bit?”
Birdie and Ava look at each other. Did I somehow mess this up? I know we came here together, but they ran off in different directions, too. Was I supposed to try everything on for them and get their opinions? That’s what they do in the movies.
“You know what.” I look over the clothes in front of me. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be buying any of this.”
Birdie grabs the cart before I can push it away. “Are you doing this for yourself?”
I frown. “What?”
“Are you changing your style for yourself, or is it for him?”
I have to think for a second. Sure, I grabbed clothes that made me feel the way Huxley made me feel, but I also grabbed them because of that feeling. Whether I’m beside Huxley or not, I still want to feel like I’m allowed to be myself. And that’s what these clothes represent.
“It’s for me,” I say with a nod. “Trust me.”
An excited smile spreads on Birdie’s face. “Then let's do it.”
Ava claps. “I want a full fashion show when we get home.”
We quickly buy our things and head back to the apartment. And after hours of sorting through clothes, trying on pretty much everything I own, and all the new stuff I bought, I now have three trash bags full of old clothes sitting by my door.
Birdie, Ava, and I are lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling. “I can’t believe you kept that blue top all these years,” Birdie says.
“You guys said it looked good,” I remind them.
“It did,” Ava adds. “For one time. After that, it needed to be burned, buried, and dropped into the ocean.”
We all start laughing too hard at that. God, we must be tired.
I sit up in bed, and my eyes fall on the bags full of my old clothes. “None of those clothes feel like me anymore. I don’t even know why I held onto them for so long.”
Ava sits up next to me. “Maybe it’s like your major. You thought you knew what you wanted, but now you know there are other things out there.”
Birdie sits up on the other side of me. “Maybe you’re finally learning who you are.”
There’s a bitterness in the back of Birdie’s words. It has to be about Huxley, but they still haven’t brought him up, so I won’t either. Besides, today was so good. And even though I don’t know what Birdie and Ava are thinking, I don’t want to ruin this mood by bringing him up.