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“Hey,” I grunted into the phone as I hopped across the tile floor of my studio apartment, trying to force the Spandex-clad trousers up my legs. Note to self—don’t buy the hype of finding work pants that promise to slim you unless you plan to do a workout every time you need to put them on.
“What’s going on?” Charlotte asked, the sound of traffic coming through as I turned on the speakerphone and tossed it on the bed.
“I’m trying to find an outfit to wear for the interview tomorrow,” I huffed, shimmying my way into the death trap, aka slim-fitting pants.
“What are the options?”
“I have the yellow silk shirt with the black blazer and dress slacks, but I feel like I look like a—”
“Bumblebee,” she finished for me with a laugh.
“Or I have the same outfit that I wear to every interview and feel like it’s now a bad omen to wear it to this one.” I gave up trying to pull the pants the rest of the way up my thighs and plopped down on the bed. “I want this job so bad, Char. The interview has to go perfect.”
“Well then, I guess we’re just going to have to go shopping and find you something to wear. Now get your butt down here so we can get going. I have to get to Lily’s school in an hour, and lucky for you, there’s that strip mall with those cute shops right down the street.”
“You don’t have to take me shopping. I’ll find something,” I protested, looking at myself in the mirror across from me and grimacing. I was already grabbing at straws with these stupid pants.
“I’m already downstairs, so hurry your butt up, Emma.”
I heard the phone click as she hung up. I grumbled one last time then got up to get dressed. Thankfully, the pants were a lot easier to get off than to put on. I grabbed my favorite pair of sunglasses and pushed them up my nose, taking a moment to check my hair before I left. The one good thing working in my favor so far was the gorgeous cut and color I had gotten yesterday as my reward to myself for getting the interview. Another candidate had pulled out at the last minute, which led me straight to the salon to cut off 3 inches of dead weight. My confidence was boosted when I looked in the mirror at the chin-length bob that framed my face perfectly, hiding the scar by my ear. I stuck with a honey brown color that made my charcoal eyes pop and added some highlights, knowing that the California sun would soon lighten it on its own anyway. Finally, I grabbed my purse and slung it over my shoulder as I rushed downstairs to meet her.
“Hey,” I said as I climbed into her car and pulled the seatbelt across me. She waited impatiently, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel until she heard it click into place. I playfully rolled my eyes and made sure to stick my tongue out at her when it locked. For as long as I had known her, she’d always been the overprotective mom.
It was a beautiful spring day in San Francisco as we drove with the top down, letting the breeze whip through our hair. I was convinced that it was a sin to live in California and not own a convertible. There was something about the freedom that you felt as you breathed in the salty air while sticking your head out the window like a dog that made it feel exhilarating.
Fifteen minutes later, we were parked and making our way into one of the stores that had looked promising from what the models in the window were wearing. I made my way over to the long-sleeved, business-appropriate shirts in the back while Charlotte casually perused the tank tops that I would never be caught dead wearing.
I was flipping through the hangers, unimpressed with the options, when I heard Charlotte call me from across the store. I gave up and tried to remind myself that there was still plenty of time to find something to wear before I allowed myself to feel the wallow and despair that were creeping up on me. Finally, I rounded the corner and saw her squatting down, looking through the boxes of shoes piled under a shelf.
“What did you find?” I asked, trying to keep my disappointment and frustration out of my voice.
She moved a few more boxes around before she popped up, her blonde hair bouncing behind her.
“Yes!” she squealed, handing the box to me.
I eyed it suspiciously before taking off the lid and looking inside. There were a pair of black heels that were my size. I looked up and furrowed my brow.
“You know I don’t wear heels,” I said, handing the box back to her.
“I know, but I thought maybe you could try them,” she replied softly, reaching behind her to pick up the clothes that she had set on the bench against the wall. “With these!”
She forced them into my hands and clapped excitedly.
“Now go try them on,” she urged, gently pushing me to the back of the store where the dressing rooms were.
I groaned and tilted my head back, making sure she saw the fit I was throwing as I walked to the dressing room and waited for an employee to unlock the door for me. I went inside and set my purse down on the small seat in the back, along with the outfit she had picked.
“Hurry and let me see it. I’ve gotta get to Lily’s school soon,” she hollered from the waiting area.
“What does she have going on today?” I asked as I pulled my shirt up and over my head, making note that I eventually needed to buy new bras at some point. The black cotton one I was wearing had seen better days and had a hole in the bottom that was starting to get bigger.
“It’s show and tell day, and Lily took the blanket that she and I have been knitting together. It’s soooo beautiful and soft,” she gushed. “Lily loves it already, and we haven’t even finished it.”
There was pure excitement in her voice that made me wish I could be there to see Lily talk about it. I loved seeing them talk about things they were working on together, even though it tugged at the emptiness I felt when I thought about all of the unfinished stuff my mom and I never got around to doing.
“I don’t want to make you late. Why don’t you get going, and I’ll find a ride back when I’m done?”
“No need for that,” she laughed. “Trust me, that is the outfit. I’m sure of it.”
I slid the black satin tank top over my head and brushed my hands along my sides when I saw that it fit perfectly. It wasn’t too tight and hugged my curves perfectly without drawing attention to the areas that made me self-conscious. I quickly pulled on the pair of boot-cut black dress slacks and then slipped on the heels, turning in the mirror to check each angle. Thankfully, the pants looked tight-fitting, but they were so unbelievably comfortable that I didn’t notice.
She was right. This was the outfit.
“Well?” she called impatiently.
I opened the door and stepped out, making sure to keep my foot on the door, so I didn’t accidentally lock myself out. She lowered her phone and stood up, coming closer to look at her work. Her cheeks split into a huge grin as her baby blue eyes lit up.
“It’s perfect,” she said, taking a deep breath. “You look amazing. I’d hire you in a heartbeat.”
“Thanks,” I laughed, running my hand down the miracle shirt again. “I actually feel amazing in this.”
“Good.” She raised her eyebrows, and her voice cracked a little. We had been friends since we were nine, and she knew how big of a moment this was for me. Needless to say, we were both feeling a little emotional given our success with finding me an outfit, knowing how picky I was about what type of clothes made me feel comfortable. I still had a hard time swallowing the pill that I was starting over with my career this late in life. I had never imagined that I would spend twenty years working for the same company, climbing the ladder to get to the top, only to start over with a new company before I turned forty.
“Okay, go get changed and toss everything over the door so that I can go pay,” she said, breaking out of the moment.
“You’re not buying my stuff,” I countered and went back inside the dressing room to get changed.
“Yes, I am. It’s good luck if I give it to you as a gift. Now hurry, or we’re gonna be late.”
I stripped down quickly and tossed everything to her, sliding the shoes under the door. By the time I had changed, she had already paid for everything and waited by the door for me. She handed me the bag as we got in the car and headed for the school.
“Do you and John have plans for the weekend?” I asked, knowing that their fifteen-year wedding anniversary was coming up in a few weeks, and he wanted to take her out of town to celebrate. Unfortunately, his work schedule was busy, and this was the only weekend that he wouldn’t be out of town for work.
“We haven’t made any yet,” she said, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye.
“You don’t have to worry about me this weekend. I’ll be fine,” I reassured her, looking out the window to avoid having a breakdown.
“I’m not leaving you.” She turned her head to the side, checking oncoming traffic before she pulled out into the intersection to turn left. Traffic was somewhat heavy today, and I knew that we’d be sitting here for a solid hour if she didn't push herself out there.
“It’s been thirty years since my parents died, and yes, it still hurts, but I’m not a kid anymore. I appreciate you wanting to be there for me, but I think you should let John take you out of town.”
She let out a heavy sigh as she turned to look at me for a second before turning her attention back to the road and inching forward to make the turn. She turned the steering wheel and went for it.
“You deserve to get—”
The sound of metal crunching and glass shattering filled the air around us as my head whipped forward before everything went black.