by Laura Briggs
“Whatever.” She mumbled this through a mouthful of pins as she tucked the pleated ruches along the dress’s bodice. Across from her, Cal shook out his garment in progress for display, a bell-shaped billow of slick orange fabric festooned with many heavy zippers.
“What do you think?” he said. “Is it totally chic, or what?”
Natalie almost burst out laughing. “What is it supposed to be?” she asked.
“It’s the urban poncho,” said Cal. “At least, that’s what Kandace is calling it. I’m calling it ‘camping tent couture.’ The sleeves zipper off to turn the whole thing into a hideous orange vinyl cape, by the way.”
Natalie was laughing so hard that she lost her grip on her pincushion, which bounced away across the floor. “Is she actually planning to market this?” she asked when she recovered her breath. “Does it double as shelter if you get lost in the wilderness?”
“I think her next line should be devoted to survival gear,” said Cal, as he pulled some pins from what Natalie had mistaken for a hood, but was actually an oversized collar with pointy corners. “We’ll sew sleeping bag trousers, glitter some rain boots—”
“—knit mittens from fiberglass for some real edge in her couture,” supplied Natalie.
She and Cal both laughed at these ideas. “I miss working with you, Natalie,” he said with a sigh. “It’s just not as fun… or as bearable… to work with Kandace now that you’re gone.”
“I miss you, too,” she answered. “Really I do.” As much as she loved Tessa—and Ama too after only a few months of knowing her—it wasn’t quite the same. There was certainly creative diversity and plenty of inspiration, but no one with whom she could talk about the complexities of couture fashion with complete understanding.
Her own fashion line. So what if it might fail? So what if no one bought her clothes after a big fashion launch? Nobody bought her clothes now, after all. It was true that her home closet was just a giant storage container for formal dresses, trouser suits, chic blouses, and everything in between that her sketches had captured. If she took a risk, and it worked out—if she were Kandace, only with skills and wearable garments, not just a reputation as an edgy visionary…
She had draped Nadia’s half-finished dress over a dressmaker’s mannequin in her living room that night; now she was studying it in the late morning light as she perched on the back of her sofa. Imagining a faceted sequin here, a glimmering crystal there, and something more, something to make this dress worthy of Nadia’s secret dreams for her bridal gown.
“Are you ready to go?” Chad appeared from the kitchen. “I packed some power bars, some energy drinks, and a guide about some of the city’s best climbing spots, in case we want to plan our next outing when we’re taking a break.”
He had arrived bright and early for today’s rock climbing date—or was it more like rappelling? She wasn’t savvy enough about the sport to know all the technical terms the way Chad did, especially since she had a habit of tuning out some of his more involved jargon about the sport. If it wasn’t for his apparent attention when it came to a mention of her interests, he might’ve seemed just a teeny bit obsessed with the subject in Natalie’s book.
“Sounds great,” she told him, as she finished lacing up her shoes. “I think I left my hoodie in the kitchen. Grab it for me, will you? And the trail mix bag by the fridge.”
“Trail mix. How very health conscious of you,” he teased. “You remembered I’m filling up on fruit-based antibodies before my next big climb in Baños, huh?” He disappeared toward the kitchen, hoisting his old rucksack higher on his shoulder. It was one that had seen him through most of his last climbing tour in South America, as Natalie understood from another story he’d told over their first dinner together.
Her coffee table was still cluttered with fashion articles Cal had brought over yesterday, along with his recording of the fashion revue. Kandace was quoted in one, talking about the ‘horrible pedestrian taste’ exhibited by the city’s topmost retail designer. Natalie was considering having it framed for her workspace wall when a knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.
“Ma, what are you doing here?” Her mother was outside, holding a Tupperware container in both hands.
“I’m dropping off some cannoli because I love you and I missed your birthday.” Maria kissed her on the cheek, and deposited the plastic food container on top of a runway model’s photo. “Heard you had some nice chocolate cake, however, so my being gone wasn’t a total loss.”
“Ma,” began Natalie, trying to sound patient.
“You don’t have a Christmas tree? How many times have I told you to take the little one from the basement?” said Maria. “You loved it as a kid. It’s just gathering dust down there and the box of ornaments is right next to it. You could come by for it today. Rob would help you dig it out and bring it over.”
“Now’s not a good time. I’m just going out, I’ve got plans.”
“So what? Don’t let me stop you just because I brought by some food,” said Maria. “It’s cold for walking, so take a coat. You’re not wearing just that thin jacket, are you? And are you going out alone? You know how dangerous those trails in the park can be, so take something for defense.”
“You know I’m not going alone,” said Natalie, who smelled a setup with regards to this visit, and how long her mother was lingering here with food in hand. The pastries were a ruse, a pretense. How had Rob known that she and Chad were going rock climbing? He wasn’t her friend on social media, and never listened to anything she actually told him on purpose.
“There’s the guy who’s taking up my daughter’s time these days,” said Maria, as Chad reappeared with the requested supplies. “Chas, am I right?”
“Chad,” he answered. “Nice to see you again, Mrs. Grenaldi.”
“Why be so formal? Call me Maria,” she said. “You’re dating my daughter, after all. At least, I think you’re dating my daughter—who’s to know these days, since everybody’s so casual about relationships.”
“I’m definitely dating your daughter.” Chad draped his arm around Natalie with a smile. “She’s a really great person.”
“I always thought so,” said Maria. “I was hoping somebody would notice.” She and Chad laughed at this joke, but Natalie did not. Her mother’s expectant attitude always bothered her when it was directed at a guy she was dating. As if Chad was supposed to state his intentions up front, and list his prospects as a possible son-in-law.
“You two have a nice outing planned?” inquired Maria.
“Yeah, I thought we’d take in the sights along the new trail that just opened upstate,” supplied Chad, glancing at Natalie as he spoke. “There’s a great spot for rappelling down to see the natural falls.”
“A waterfall in winter?” said Maria. “That’s one I haven’t heard before.”
Not that she would ever admit it in front of her mother, but this wouldn’t have been Natalie’s first choice of activity on a cold day like this.
“That’s one of the best times to see it,” said Chad. “Winter brings you so close to nature, the silence and the raw elements really grip you in a stark environment.”
Natalie hoped her jacket was insulated against the cold breeze. Chad was wearing some thermal parka thing lined with down that he had bought for a trip in the Canadian Rockies.
“Then there’s a great Brazilian cafe near my yoga class’s studio,” continued Chad. “It’s on our route back from the park so I thought we’d check it out afterwards.”
At least the coffee might warm her up, Natalie thought. Then maybe she and Chad could talk about making their next outing to a little more winter-friendly place—like visiting an art gallery or taking in a movie, for instance.
“Sounds very active,” Maria replied politely. “But that’s what people do these days, right? Stay fit?”
“Here, Ma, let me put the cannoli in my dessert keep and give you back your container,” said Natalie, who made short work of dum
ping the cream-filled rolls onto the cake plate in her kitchen, beneath a glass dome. “I’ll just be ready in a few minutes,” she told Chad, as she returned with the empty Tupperware. “Why don’t you find the guide to the park that you left here last time?”
“Sure thing.” He deposited his backpack on the sofa and went in search of the guide.
“What are you doing?” Maria asked Natalie. “I’m your mother, not a criminal. You don’t have to act like you’re trying to get rid of me.”
“Ma, I just don’t want Chad to be uncomfortable,” she answered quietly. “Family members asking questions—it’s a little too much too soon.”
“So until you and he are serious, what are you going to do? Make us all hide in the closet if he comes by while we’re here? Will you and he eat in separate rooms from the rest of us at holiday dinners?”
“No,” said Natalie scornfully, as she rolled her eyes. “But those are things we don’t have to worry about, because this is not a serious thing. Stop worrying about it—and stop trying to meet my boyfriends, all right? When it’s serious, you’ll know.”
“Will I?” asked Maria sarcastically. “It seems to me that you don’t know a lot about seriousness and relationships. How would you know it when you saw it?”
“Listen, I really wish you wouldn’t spy on me.” Natalie lowered her voice, glancing once to make sure that Chad wasn’t suddenly about to reappear from the kitchen.
“I’m not spying on you!” protested Maria—but keeping her voice low, Natalie noticed, in order to ensure that she wouldn’t cause a scene that would shut conversation with Natalie down completely.
“Yes, you are,” Natalie said. “I’m closing in on thirty in a few years, Ma. I’m mature enough to know that my mother does not bring me baked goods without an agenda behind them.”
“There’s no agenda—”
“Ma.”
“—except maybe a little bit of concern for my baby,” said Maria. “You keep dating a string of strangers whom I never get to meet and might be the next Jack the Ripper for all I know—”
“Chad is not a serial killer. He’s a rock climber,” said Natalie. “And a… shoe salesman,” she added, for lack of the more specific nuances of marketing sports footwear.
“I’m not talking about just him,” said Maria. “Everything’s such a secret with you when it comes to love. Everything’s so loose, like untied shoelaces. Do you know if you’d like this boy’s family? If you like his friends, even?”
“I don’t have to, because that’s not what I’m looking for,” stated Natalie flatly. “What do you want from me, Ma? I’m happy, healthy, and employed, and that’s enough for most mothers. Plus, you actually got to meet one of my boyfriends for a change, which I figured would make you happy.” It had only piqued her family’s curiosity, evidently, which was the reason for this cannoli delivery to her place.
“All right, sue me. So I wish you were dating a nice, marriageable guy,” said Maria—still keeping her voice soft so Chad wouldn’t hear, Natalie noticed.
Why did Maria always have to assume that just because a guy wasn’t interested in marriage he was a creep or a loser? “Why isn’t Chad a nice guy?” Natalie asked defensively.
“I mean somebody a little more mature,” said Maria. “A guy more sensible, like Brayden.”
“Brayden?” The snort of contempt and disbelief from Natalie’s throat had no effect on Maria.
“Why not? Someone who’s a decent, honest boy who likes your family and puts up gracefully with you when you’re acting like a spoiled princess,” said Maria bluntly. “You need someone to love you as much as I do, so they look past your thorns to the rose behind them. That takes a man who’s either honest enough to throw it back in your face or tactful enough to bury the hatchet and move on.”
“My thorns?” echoed Natalie, one eyebrow arched. “I’m sorry, but are we talking about my personality here?” She’d be offended, but she had heard this before—less nicely—from friends and family.
“I mean that blunt honesty of yours, the way you find people’s weak points and needle them right there.” Maria clearly had a mental list of Natalie’s faults on hand. “Those are things half the guys you date probably couldn’t handle. Does this guy you’re dating know what you’re like after a long day at the beach?”
Natalie rolled her eyes. “I’ve only been out with him three times. What do you think?” Maria had referenced one of Natalie’s worst bugbears: hot afternoons and sunburn. “But it’s not serious enough to worry about whether he’ll love me when I’m red all over and savage the whole car ride home.”
“Not that you’d either apologize or look for a guy who would put up with it, knowing you,” added Maria archly.
That might be true, but Natalie was still stuck between an image of herself actually dating Brayden—Brayden, who probably envisioned a special date night at a local sit-down chain restaurant where they turned off the sports channel at 8 p.m.—and the image of Chad with a fake smile plastered on his face at one of her family’s dinners, with a look of despair frozen deep in his eyes when her uncle asserted that sugar-free desserts were killing the population compared to full-fat gelato.
Surely her mom didn’t actually think she should date someone like Brayden, did she? Someone who might as well be trapped in the victimhood department of saintly patience without having someone like her in their life full time? And as for her being trapped with him—
“Could you make an effort to stay out of my business?” Natalie asked in hushed tones. “For Chad’s sake, if not for mine? I’d prefer for the guys I date not to know my family’s opinion of them.” A little of her sarcasm had come back now. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have plans?” she hinted.
“Did I say that this Chad wasn’t a nice guy?” began Maria. “Did I say that, Natalie?”
“There are customers in need of biscotti, Ma, more than your daughter is in need of an opinion on her love life.”
Natalie’s mother looked as if she had a reply ready for this one, but by now, Chad had returned with his guidebook. “I guess that’s the last piece of gear we need,” he declared.
“I should go,” said Maria. “Nice to see you again, Chad. Don’t be a stranger.” She waved to him as she accepted her container from Natalie, who gave her mother a warning look.
“Sure thing, Maria,” he answered.
“Bye, Ma. Thanks for stopping over.” Natalie decided it would not be safe to go downstairs for at least ten minutes.
“If he’s not serious in the end, you know that your cousin Janelle knows a very nice podiatrist—” began Maria in a quiet voice, before the door to Natalie’s apartment had completely closed between her and her daughter.
“Are you expecting anybody else?” Chad asked. “Your brother or your uncle?”
“No. Relax. That was a very rare drop-in visit by one of my family members,” lied Natalie. “She missed my birthday, after all. Mother’s guilt.”
“Then we’re ready to go,” said Chad.
“Ready,” said Natalie. Although… for a few hours descending a cliff wall in the winter’s cold? All to see a waterfall which, in reality, was more like a tiny spring guzzling out of a rock wall, if the picture in the park’s guide was any kind of accurate representation?
Then again, Chad was attractive, smooth, a skilled conversationalist, and seemed fine with a no-strings-attached dating experience. Those were the best and most important parts of her relationship with him, and the ones Natalie chose as her focus during this particular outing. Besides, she could always look forward to maybe learning new and surprising facets of his personality as they shared a fine Brazilian blend of coffee afterwards. When he wasn’t caught up in a long story about some climbing experience, Chad sometimes related interesting encounters he’d had with local culture. And when he’d showed her some rock climbing moves yesterday on his apartment’s home-made climbing wall, she discovered that the activity had certain body-toning capabilities.
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br /> “There were fashion photos on your apartment table,” he commented at the intersection light. “Are you working on a new line of clothes?”
“No. A friend brought some photos by of the latest fashion show in the city,” said Natalie. “Keeping me abreast of what’s been happening since I quit Kandace’s team.”
She thought he might ask her next about the dress in her apartment—if it was part of something new, or what inspired the bodice and the neckline. Instead, he asked, “Have you ever thought about using South America as inspiration?”
“South America?” she said.
“There are some really great ethnic fabrics that would make your fashions really unique,” said Chad. “I have a friend who makes Ecuadorian jewelry. Maybe you could partner together for a market booth or an artisan fair. You create the fashion, she supplies the accessories.”
“My knowledge of South America is kind of slim, though,” said Natalie. “I had a couple of friends in school who were Colombian, and what they told me is the limit of my knowledge.”
“Or Asia,” said Chad, who was noticing the tiger on the restaurant sign outside the car window. They were stopped at the traffic light outside Ama’s place now, with the Tandoori Tiger’s exterior being strung with Christmas lights by one of Ama’s brothers on a ladder. “They have some interesting fashions. I watched a documentary on Chinese imperial history last week, and I remember how their clothes really made a cultural statement. Bold colors probably inspire you, don’t they?”
“Anything can inspire me,” said Natalie. “That’s the beauty of what I do.”
“Probably not in my daily surroundings,” answered Chad. “If it’s not true nature, then I minimize my atmosphere to simplicity.” Which was true, Natalie reflected. Chad preferred earth tones, and not just in his soft leather boots, wooden beads, and leather men’s jewelry, or the green polo shirts and khakis of his semi-casual office days. His apartment’s decor sported greens and tans for its upholstery, with a coffee table made from recycled bamboo, reminding Natalie of wood pulp molded into a crude packing crate.