Maggie watched her aunt for a minute more. Irene repinned some loose hairs and powdered her nose. Then she stood and reached for the red dress that was laying in a heap on the thick beige carpet.
“Auntie? Why are you doing this?”
Irene froze, halfway through trying to unzip herself from the peach formal to don the red. Her hands fell back to her sides, and she looked at Maggie with sorrow-filled eyes.
“Is it because you saw Johnny today?” Maggie continued gently. “He told me he came here because it was one of the only places that still looked the same.”
Irene crumpled weakly onto the vanity bench, her shoulders bowed in dejection. After a moment she nodded her head in surrender.
“When I saw him, I forgot for a moment that I no longer looked the way he does. He hasn’t aged a day. I was frightened because none of it makes any sense. It wasn’t until he had gone, and I’d stopped shaking, that I came into the house and caught sight of myself in the entrance hall mirror. For a moment I didn’t recognize myself, Maggie. My reflection was that of an old woman, and I realized, maybe for the first time, that my life is....over. I won’t fall in love again. A man won’t look at me with passion in his eyes. I won’t ever be kissed the way a woman wants to be kissed, ever again. I am an old woman. But I don’t feel old inside. Inside, I am still beautiful and young. I’m still the girl who wanted to wear this dress but lost courage at the last second.”
Maggie slid off the bed and knelt at Irene’s feet. Sadness made her heart heavy and her head drooped into Irene’s lap. Why was it that human beings constantly grieved for what they couldn’t have? She was no exception. She lifted her head and tried to smile.
“Let me help you put on the red dress. You should get to wear it at least once.”
Irene smoothed Maggie’s hair and gazed down into her face, a face that reminded her so much of herself many years ago. She shook her head slowly.
“No...I don’t think I want to see myself in it after all. I’d much rather see how you look in it, Maggie. It will do my heart good to remind myself that once upon a time I was as young and beautiful as you are now. Come on. Let’s have a look.”
Maggie reluctantly stood and, dropping her pajamas, stepped out of them and pulled the red dress over her head and down her body. She smoothed the thin straps onto her shoulders, and Irene zipped the back in one swift pull. Maggie spun and, seeing her reflection in the vanity mirror, smiled with pleasure. She had always been a little uncomfortable in red, as if it drew the kind of attention she’d rather not have. But she should wear it more often. Her skin glowed against the vivid hue, and her eyes were lit up like Christmas lights. Her hair was rumpled from sleeping so she reached for a brush on Irene’s vanity and brushed her hair to the side. She had gone to bed with it damp, and it had dried in heavy waves, giving her an old pin-up girl look.
“Take off your glasses,” Irene demanded. “Let me do your eyes. You know they say a girl can never wear too much blue eye shadow!”
“No! Aunt Irene!” Maggie objected, pulling away.
“I’m teasing! Wrong decade, Maggie!” Irene chortled at her own joke and proceeded with a surprisingly light hand to line and shadow Maggie’s eyes. Stepping back, she clucked over her handiwork. Then she reached for a tube of deep red lipstick and demanded that Maggie pucker up.
“Now. You take your lipstick and put it in your little purse....see? Right here.” Irene produced the little sparkly silver purse she had discovered in the attic. She unhooked the clasp with a snap and dropped the little gold-plated lipstick tube in the bag.
“It’s the perfect size. Look, you could even fit your glasses inside.” Irene demonstrated the convenience of the little clutch. Then, clicking it shut, she handed it to Maggie.
‘You are now ready for the dance. Now let’s see you twirl!” Maggie stood, and stepping into the matching shoes, she twirled for Irene. She immediately found herself giggling with delight. Girls never outgrew playing dress-up.
Irene clapped and giggled right along with her. “The hair is different than mine would have been. It wasn’t really in fashion to wear it long. But you and I definitely could have passed for sisters.” Irene began to hum and, extending her arms to Maggie, began spinning her around the bedroom in a dizzy dance to her off-key tune.
Around and around they went until Irene got quite breathless and collapsed onto her bed, her dress poofing out around her, revealing her skinny legs and old-lady knees. Maggie curled up beside her and stared at the high ceiling as she waited for Irene to catch her breath.
“We girls danced together all the time when I was young,” Irene sighed. “You do it nowadays, and people call you mean names, but we would jive and jitterbug and swing together all the time. The fancy dresses kind of get in the way, though.” Irene giggled again, and at that moment she sounded very much like a seventeen-year-old girl.
“You should have worn this dress, Auntie,” Maggie murmured. “The peach is beautiful, but maybe the red would have forced you out of your shell.”
“Aw, Maggie. I was never in a shell. It was more like a self-imposed cell. I don’t think anything could have altered the path I was on. Not even a bright red dress. I think back on those days. What if I hadn’t married Roger? What if I’d gone to New York and studied fashion like I secretly dreamed. What if I’d gone to Paris for the summer after I graduated like my daddy promised me I could? I look back and think what an absolute ninny I was.”