26. Olivia #3
Back then, I’d been so ashamed of my body and my looks that I had tried to hide. Now, while I still had some insecurities to work on, I genuinely liked myself. Looking in the mirror was no longer a terrible activity I tried to avoid at all costs.
And never would I have guessed that I would have been able to use my fuddy-duddy knowledge to help a friend in her own journey of self-discovery.
“Huh,” had been the first statement she made when she saw herself covered in a loose, oversized T-shirt and equally baggy sweatpants with no brand name.
Although her tone was relatively unreadable, that wasn’t directly negative, so I took that as a victory.
And it turned out I was right, because she relaxed with every piece we tried that showcased her in a different way.
“I like this,” was the second thing she uttered, when she was wearing a loose-cut dress that reminded me of a Korean hanbok.
It was a silhouette that some with a narrow perspective of modern fashion in the western world might have found ugly, but I thought it was a combination of lovely and understated.
Maybe even a little old-fashioned, but not everything had to be hip and happening and up to date.
“I’m glad. Now, what about those ugly sweaters?”
I absolutely adored that Amanda was fashionable and would still happily keep our tradition of watching New York Fashion Week every year.
I didn’t want that to change. But I had long since learned that there was a difference between choosing to dress a certain way and feeling forced to because that was what a woman was supposed to do.
Amanda and I may have been on opposite sides of the coin, with me choosing lifeless, formless clothes as a sort of protection from my insecurities and her choosing eye-catching, form-fitting outfits to protect her from her insecurities, but ultimately it was the same issue.
Neither of us had been dressing for our own joy, which was the number one cardinal sin of fashion.
It wasn’t until we were at the sixth and final shop that everything truly came together.
I was waiting as patiently as I could outside the dressing room, trying not to tap my foot as I waited for Amanda to emerge.
We were the only ones in the secondhand shop.
Even the employee had excused herself to go to the bathroom in the back.
While I appreciated how much she trusted us, I was a bit baffled by it.
But then, Amanda finally opened the door and stepped out to the full-length mirror. She didn’t raise her gaze at first, and I could tell she was quite nervous about the outfit I’d picked out for her.
It wasn’t anything special, but that was the point.
It was a simple pair of denim overalls and a button-up flannel.
Not stylish by a long shot, but I had chosen it with intent.
Last year, when the warmth of spring had faded into the first cool, biting drafts of autumn, she and I had gone apple picking and had an absolute blast, with Keith at one point giving each of us a turn on his shoulders so we could get to the high fruits.
However, Amanda hadn’t had the easiest time moving around in the outfit she’d worn.
But in this get-up, there would be no problem.
She could run around the orchard like a hooligan, start another woodworking project, or do any number of adventures, and not worry about ruining an outfit that cost more than some people’s rent.
“What do you think?” I asked cautiously as she finally lifted her head and looked in the mirror.
For a moment, she said nothing, just stared at her reflection with those Barbie-blue eyes.
Well, it was more like she was staring at her glasses, because I’d had her take her contacts out and wear the spectacles I only saw her use when she was sewing.
She was also in sneakers, no wedges or pumps or high heels in sight, and her perfect ponytail was thrown into a messy bun that still somehow looked way more effortless than anything I’d ever done on myself.
“I...” She fell silent again, and once more I did my very best to be as patient as possible. It wasn’t easy though, and each second ratcheted up the tension. I was starting to worry that I’d overstepped.
“That’s me,” she whispered finally, her voice so vulnerable that I was instantly beside her in case she needed a hug. “That’s Amanda. I haven’t seen her in...”
She trailed off yet again, but I understood.
I’d had both the same and opposite revelation two years ago, so I was well aware of how surprisingly emotional it could be.
Amanda’s outward presentation was as much of a shield as it was a hobby.
It was curated art, or maybe even a persona so people wouldn’t notice how she didn’t quite look them in the eyes, how she sometimes flapped her hands when she talked, or just how literal she could be about things.
She was now realizing that she didn’t always have to have that shield. It was fine for when she wanted it, but it wasn’t compulsory.
We must have stood there in silence for nearly five minutes as she regarded herself, but eventually, she turned to me and opened her arms. I was inside of her embrace nearly unnaturally quickly, both of us hugging for all we were worth.
“I just want you to know,” she said, and I could tell her tears were starting up again, but now they were positive and not over some dumb guy. “You are the best friend I’ve ever had and could ever ask for. Thank you for seeing the whole me, not just the flashy packaging.”
“Of course, and you’re quite literally my first and best friend that I’ve ever had outside of my own family.
You opened my eyes to so many things I never thought of and allowed me to find a reason not just to like myself, but to celebrate myself.
You truly are one-of-a-kind, Amanda, and I can never thank you enough for being quite literally the perfect wing-woman from the very first day you met me. ”
“I love you very much, Olivia. I don’t have siblings, but I really feel like you’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister.”
We were both wrecks at this point, voices warbling and tears dripping down our cheeks.
There was such a raw openness to the moment that I hadn’t been quite prepared for, so maybe that was why I blurted what I did.
I was so tired of keeping secrets from people I loved right down to the bottom of my heart, and I knew I wanted them in my life forever.
“My family and I are all wolf shifters!”
Amanda didn’t so much as stiffen, but I could tell from her scent that her response was mostly confusion more than anything else. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“Wolf shifters. All of us.” When no understanding dawned across her face and she didn’t pull away from me, I figured that maybe it was the terminology that wasn’t clicking. Recalling how Keith had put it, I internally rolled my eyes and tried again. “We’re werewolves!”
She tilted her head to the side, her eyebrows knitting together, but still her scent held no notes of anger or shock or disbelief. “Is this, like, a weird way to break the tension or something?” she asked.
I understood that reaction. It wasn’t like there had been a lot of leading up to it, and she hadn’t met the rest of my family, who were apparently absolutely abysmal at trying to pretend to be human longer than five minutes.
“No, I’m serious. I want you to know the real me since you’ve always been so honest and open with me.
That’s why I’m so strong, that’s why you’ve never met my family, and that’s why I’m always busy during the full moon.
Keith knows. He found out after... some drama.
But you’re only the second human I’ve ever told in my entire life. ”
“Wait, are you really trying to tell me that you’ve got a whole ass wolf inside you and you can transform into it when you want?”
“More or less. Recently, we kind of accidentally found out there are some ways to trigger or force a shift, but that’s another matter.”
Amanda regarded me, and I saw that keen intelligence in her eyes as sharp as ever. I waited with bated breath for her response, and when a wide grin broke out across her beautiful features, relief flooded through me.
“Dude,” she murmured. “Sick! And I mean that in a good way!”
Of course she did.