Fiona smiles at me, it’s wide and bright. “It makes total sense, I have a few options in the mermaid style, let me get them and help you into them. If you wouldn’t mind undressing so you’re in your undergarments, that would be great.” She doesn’t wait for me to reply, just hurries out of the changing room.
I take a deep breath and do exactly as she asks. I’m not shy, I’ve been to enough tailors and dress makers to know the drill. It doesn’t take long until Fiona reappears with a selection of options. She shows me the first dress and helps me into it. I already know that this is a no for me.
It's too structured, too formal, too heavy. There’s so much material that it’s not as form fitting as I’d like. I come out and Daithí looks at me, his expression blank which is annoying as hell. I hate when I can’t read him.
"It's very—" he starts.
"Much not me," I say, as I look down at the dress. It’s beautiful, but it’s not for me.
"I was going to say it’s very material heavy."
"Yeah," I sigh as I look to Fiona who’s watching us interact. “I’m sorry. It’s a beautiful dress, but it’s just too much fabric. It’s not as fitted as I’d hoped.”
Fiona waves me off. “Don’t apologize Miss Quinn. We’re here to find you the perfect dress and that’s what we’ll do. We have more options and it’s always good to know what you’re thinking as it’ll help me narrow it down to dresses you like.”
I go back into the dressing room, and Fiona helps me out of the first dress and into the second. I stare at myself in the mirror and see a bright white fitted dress that has a long train. A train that somehow makes me look smaller than I am. I know that this dress would be Mam’s pick for sure. It’s a little on the old fashioned side, and that’s Mam’s taste to a T.
I stand on the platform and show Daithí. "No," he tells me before I even put my arms down. “This isn’t you. Next.”
I’d laugh if I could. He’s taking this very seriously.
The third one is pretty, stunningly so, but I feel nothing. I stand on the platform in front of the three mirrors and I look at myself. I think about the wedding, about walking toward Lorenzo in this dress. This isn’t the dress I’d envisioned for myself.
My eyes sting as I realize that what I had envisioned isn’t going to come true. Everything I had hoped came crashing down the moment that Lorenzo pulled away from me. I blink the tears back. Not here, I can’t break down here.
"That one makes you sad," Daithí says, moving toward me.
I look at him, hoping and praying that my tears stay away. "I'm not sad."
"Quinn." He gives me the look that tells me he knows that I’m lying.
I look back at the mirror. The dress is pretty but it's wrong. I don't know how to explain that to Fiona without sounding like a crazy person, because honestly? There’s no way to describe how I’m feeling.
"I'll try the next one," I say, blowing out a breath and putting on a bright smile.
We've been here nearly an hour and tried on six different dresses when Daithí stands. “Fiona, would you mind giving me and my sister five minutes?”
Fiona doesn’t hesitate. “Of course not, I’ll put the dresses we’ve tried on away and maybe pull some more?” Again, she doesn’t wait for a response; she leaves Daithí and I alone in the room.
"Do you remember when you were about nine," he says, "and you used to come and find me in the library with whatever book you were reading, and you'd just sit there reading in the same room as me without saying anything, for hours."
I look at him, wondering why he’s saying this. "I remember."
"I used to think it was because you liked my company," he says with a small laugh. "But looking back, I think it was because the library was safe. I was there and nobody bothered you when I was there."
I don't say anything because he’s right. That’s exactly why I would go there and it’s been my safe haven ever since.
"You learned to survive by finding the quietest corner," he says. "You made yourself small and you got very good at it." He holds my gaze. "And I let that happen. I let you believe that making yourself small was the safest option, and it was, in that house, but it shouldn't have been. You should have been protected."
I breathe in deeply. God, Daithí is killing me today.
"Surviving isn't the same as being loved properly," he says.
My eyes fill with tears, but I don't let them fall. They're there, pressing at the edges of my eyes. Daithí sees it and he doesn't look away.
"I'm scared," I say. My words are small and I’ve never felt as vulnerable as I do now. "I'm scared Lorenzo thinks I'm capable of something awful, and I don't know how to fix it, and I don't know how to walk into that marriage carrying this. And the worst part—" I stop. "The worst part is that I care. I wasn't supposed to care what he thinks of me and I do, and now Daire has made sure his first real impression of who I am is the worst possible version, and I can't—" I press my lips together. "I just keep thinking I don't want to marry a man who thinks that of me. And I didn't expect to think that, because I didn't expect to want anything from it."
Daithí is very still.
