me if I was going to call in to the Pacific Inn to get some hours for next weekend.
“Can’t. I’m meeting my dad later. I might not even be here this weekend.” I told her where we were going.
“Nice.” She looked like she hadn’t slept much.
“Did you talk to Roman this morning?”
“He’s sick,” she said. “Fucker better have malaria is all I can say.”
Her eyes were a bit sad. I tugged at my T-shirt. “I don’t know what to wear,” I said. “Maybe you could … I mean, you always have good ideas about clothes.”
Her face brightened a little. “Um. Sure, I could give you a hand. Come on downstairs and we’ll put an outfit together.”
I wish Jill could get a load of Sam. Sam always looks good. I wanted to wear something sharp like Sam would—something that would make me look like I was used to being downtown by the water. Urban and stylish.
Jill came through like there was no tomorrow. She was nice to me. Nicer than I was to her yesterday, that’s for damn sure. She even offered to do my makeup. I let her do it too, but when I looked in the mirror it was pretty bad. With the summer dress it was like a creepy combination of Whatever Happened to Baby Jane and Lolita. I said thank you and hugged her. Once I had driven a little way from the house, though, I pulled over and wiped most of it off.
The palm trees wave at the twinkling bay as if I’m somewhere exotic. Makes me feel a bit misty, thinking of how nice Jill was and knowing that after this week, I might not see her again for a long time.
I roll up the windows and take the key out of the ignition, and the truck goes quiet. At exactly two o’clock, I open the huge driver’s door, jump down onto the road and slam it shut. How could you not feel like you could take on the world in a righteous black pickup like this?
I snatch a glance at my reflection in the side window and take one more look at the water before I start toward the Bay Café.
I’m wearing a white cotton sundress with eyelet lace on the bodice and at the hem just like you see in Seventeen magazine. Jill went through everything in her closet. I tried on a thousand things. If it was Jill’s it didn’t fit. If it was mine it looked stupid. I was ready to cry, until Jill remembered this dress that her cousin had left in the basement last summer. She crawled to the back of her closet to get it.
Looked awful at first, all mashed up in a plastic bag, but Jill shook it out and pushed me to try it on. It fit pretty well, so she went upstairs and got out the ironing board for me. I was scared I’d wreck it and asked Ruby to do the actual ironing. The next problem was my feet. I didn’t have anything that would go. Jill’s got major clodhoppers and I couldn’t wear anything of hers. A pair of brown suede cowboy boots would have been awesome. That’s what the girls in the magazines wear. Boots would have been so cool—I’d be walking with a swagger if I had boots on right now. Instead, I’m heading up Denman Street in a little pair of leather sandals. Jill calls them water-walkers because of the way they look like something Jesus would wear.
Ice cream shops and tourist joints line the sidewalks. The air is extra clear and everything looks a little too new and bright somehow, the colour of Playmobil toys. I glance around at the high-rent clothes people have on. When I look down at my sundress, I suddenly notice a yellow mark on the skirt the size of a quarter. Stopping, I lift the skirt a little and take a swipe at it, as if it might just be chalk. It’s a stain, though. Something sags in the centre of me. The girl in the stained dress. The girl from Burnaby.
I push myself forward. It doesn’t matter. Don’t be such a baby. Sam and I are blowing this town. We can buy all the white sundresses we want.
Stepping onto the corner where the Bay Café is, I spot my father down the block. He’s wearing one of those tailored dress shirts of his, baby blue and starched to cut. That and a pair