She Never Said Goodbye

Chapter Eight

Jane held up a bright orange dress to Monica's body. Her eyes widened as she gasped.

"Oh, no, no. This is not your color at all."

She put the dress back on the rack and waved through dress after dress looking for the perfect one. Monica's friend would allow herself that one and final mistake for their shopping spree. She had her game-face on; she was determined, and as if appearing by magic, she finally found it.

"Here! This is the one. Try it on."

She pressed the dress into Monica's arms and spun her around, leading her to the fitting rooms.

Monica slipped the dress over her head and looked in the mirror. Jane rapped on the door with her knuckles. Monica jumped at the sound and adjusted the straps before letting her friend in.

"This color is insanely gorgeous on you," Jane said. "Such a deep and cool red. Pearl is going to be jealous. She can't always have red to herself, though." Jane winked and stood behind her friend looking at her reflection in the mirror.

The dress was a deep ruby red with delicate straps. The fabric fell loosely past her waist and brushed the middle of her thighs.

"I don't own anything this short."

"That's why you need it. Also, it's not even that short, Monny." Jane rolled her eyes and stepped out of the fitting room. "Listen, it's up to you, but this is like, what? The fifth place we've been to? This is the dress. You can't deny it. My credit card is quivering in my purse."

Monica shook her head at Jane's plea. She took one last look in the mirror before she let her friend buy the dress for her. She did not feel like herself wearing it, but maybe that was the point. She had been longing for a break, for something new. Sometimes, all it took was a new dress.

The girls left the boutique and Jane got into her Jeep. She checked her lipstick in the overhead mirror before looking over at her friend.

"Are you sure you don't want a ride back to your place?"

Monica eyed the setting sun. "I'm sure. I feel like walking. I seriously live like down the street anyway."

"Okay. Pearl's been begging for a girls night out."

"I know."

"When will be good for you?"

"What about after the guys' show on Thursday night?"

"Don't you have to work early the next day?"

"Yeah. But it'll be Friday. I'll tough it out if I have to."

"Okay, girlie. I'll let Pearl know."

"Thanks. And thank you for the dress."

"You can thank me by wearing it on Thursday. Can't wait to see Owen's face."

Jane drove away, and Monica idled near the entrance of the boutique. She watched the other ladies through the windows scan over the clothing and hold up items to themselves. Stretching them in various directions. Smiling or frowning in the mirrors.

She thought about Astrid. How everything she wore seemed like a second skin. A slouchy, oversized shirt with cut-off shorts. A flowy skirt and camisole. Her ever-present silver necklace with the peace sign and rose quartz pendants. Her worn pair of white sneakers with the black permanent marker hearts scribbled on the back of the heels.

Just then a gust of wind blew Monica's hair into her eyes. Strands of her hair got stuck in her lashes and her eyes began to water. One tear fell. It mixed with the images of Astrid in her mind.

"Babe?"

Monica spun around. Her eyes were still stinging.

"Babe, you okay?"

Owen held her shoulders and led her to a bench a few feet away.

"What's the matter? Shopping isn't supposed to make girls cry, right? I'm pretty sure it's supposed to do the exact opposite."

"What are you doing here?"

"Had to pick up some new strings from the music shop. Are you okay?"

She held onto her shopping bag in her lap and looked up at the graying sky with blurry vision.

"Let's just walk back home."

"Actually, I drove your car here."

She blinked and gave him a look.

"I'm sorry I didn't let you know I was borrowing your car, but I knew you'd be out with Jane pretty much all evening, so I figured--"

"It's okay. Gimme the keys. I wanna drive. But we're not going home. I changed my mind."

Owen got up from the bench and handed Monica her car keys as she followed him to her car. He shoved the long sleeves of his shirt up and dug his hands into his pockets. "Where are you taking us?"

He was a fan of these little jags of her's. Sometimes she would take him to the park to look at the ducks, sometimes a bar, sometimes all she needed was a long drive with no destination.

"I need a drink," she said as she tossed her bag and purse into the back seat.

"If you need a drink," he leaned over in the passenger seat to kiss her cheek, "then I need a drink, too."

He opened the glove compartment and took out his aviators that he left there. As they drove to the bar, the breeze from the open window played with his hair and dried another tear on Monica's cheek that he had not seen before.