I managed to get home before I burst into tears, but it was close. I'd known Alex and I had interwoven our lives to an amazing degree, of course, but how could we not have? We'd been together through nearly all of high school, all of university, and all the time since. But if someone had asked I'd have insisted I was still my own person, still an autonomous creature.
An autonomous creature crying over paint. An autonomous creature who didn't know her own favorite color.
I had to rebuild everything. I couldn't continue with what I had. Because I didn't have much of anything any more.
Chapter Five
After crying myself to sleep, I woke the next morning feeling more positive than I had since Alex had left. Okay, the paint choosing thing had been a bit of a disaster. More than a bit. But I had bought paint, and I'd even thought to pick up brushes and rollers. Sure, everything in my life had changed, and not by my choice, but I could still take control. I could put together a new life for myself. Better, stronger, more focused on what I liked and what mattered to me.
My self-pitying thoughts of the night before, my belief that I had nothing left, seemed silly in the light of the new day. Of course I had lots left. I had my job, and my clothes and books and CDs and DVDs. And...
Nothing else came to mind. I had physical things, but barely anything in the social realm. No real friends, no boyfriend, no family nearby...
I started to feel down again but rather than let myself sink into the sadness I decided to paint. Knowing I should lay down newspaper and carefully tape off the baseboards and window frames first, I instead just got the furniture and a few hanging pictures out of the way and launched into it. Another reversal.
Tears filled my eyes when the first strokes of paint hit the wall. Alex had picked that color, and I was obliterating one of the few things he'd left behind. But I blinked hard and kept going, because I had to, and soon had one full wall covered.
Standing back and staring at it, I tried to decide if I liked it. More important, would Alex like it? I didn't want him to come home and hate what I'd done with the place. It was definitely a lighter and brighter color than before, far prettier, and much girlier. Did it work, though? I thought maybe, but I wasn't sure.
I'd never thought of myself as a particularly indecisive person but since Alex left I'd been the queen of the wafflers.
"Do you like your paint, your highness?" I said out loud, then laughed at myself, laughed for the first time in weeks. It felt good.
I gave the rest of the walls their first coat and then took a pizza break before applying the second coat. Finished, I went out for a walk to get a little paint-fume-free air. The day was cool for mid-June, and I walked fast to keep warm. When I returned home I felt a million times better, my body energized and my mind relaxed.
I opened the door, and the sight of the living room multiplied my mood by another million or so. The paint, which had appeared more blue when I left, glowed purple in the sunlight sneaking through the half-open window blinds, and the room felt bright and fresh and happy. More like the room in the magazine that had made Alex pick the gray paint. He would like this, I was almost sure of it.
I dropped onto the couch and looked around, feeling surprisingly proud of myself. I'd made a change and it was a good one. Small, but good. I was on the right track.
Time to move it up a level. Though I so didn't want to, I would go to work on Monday, and I would go every day that week even though I didn't usually work in the office daily. My freak out at the home improvement store made it clear that I shouldn't be alone much longer.
But I'd so much rather be alone than see Alex. Not that he'd want to see me either.
That made me think, and I opened my laptop and checked his company's web site. They did have another location, and maybe...
Relief filled me. Alex had transferred to the other location, a good twenty minutes by subway from my building. I almost certainly wouldn't see him.
I might see his new woman, though. One of the few things he'd told me was that he'd met her at work. But I had no idea what she looked like, except that she was my opposite and on at least one occasion she'd used a black hair elastic, so unless she was wearing an 'Andrea, I stole your man' t-shirt I wouldn't have to worry about her.
Thinking of clothes made me wonder what I should wear on Monday. Going back to work after three weeks off, when everyone knew why I'd been away, was monumental. People would be looking at me. I needed to look good.
I checked out my closet but found myself yawning within moments. Being so short and tiny, and blonde to boot, I'd gravitated to highly professional clothing so people wouldn't assume, as had happened to me when I was twenty-three, that I was in the office with my dad for 'bring your daughter to work day'. Black and brown and gray suits, blouses in white or black, sharp creases, no curves, nothing soft or relaxed... my closet was all business. Even for work clothes, surely there was room for a little flexibility. A little reversal of my usual looks and styles.
I would go shopping tomorrow, and I would find myself three work outfits that fit my body and shook up my life.
*****
After breakfast and coffee while admiring my new living room, which had taken on yet another different but pretty color variation in the early morning light, I was at the mall when it opened at ten. It wouldn't be so busy then, and I could ease myself into seeing people again.
I generally hit the same three stores whenever I needed clothes, but this time I roamed the mall and window-shopped and went into whatever store seemed the most unlike me. I did need to look trustworthy and solid, since no company wants its data analysis done by someone in a Pooh bear sweatshirt and track pants, so I stayed out of the casual stores and the ones clearly targeted to teenagers. But otherwise I went everywhere I'd never gone before, and even ventured into a teenager-type store when a hot pink blazer in the window caught my eye though I just knew I'd hate it on me.
"I'll take it," I said to the gum-chomping store clerk, surprised at myself but unable to deny that the blazer fit me perfectly and would add a much-needed dash of color to my wardrobe.
"There's, like, a skirt that goes with it." She pointed to a very few inches of matching pink fabric.
"Thanks, but I think that might be a bit short for me."
"Yeah, maybe."
Her tone said "definitely", and I wanted to fight back but I couldn't since I'd started it. So I made myself fight back. Reversals everywhere. I had to keep reminding myself I wasn't being myself any more. "Actually, I'll try it on."
I'd nearly need a bikini wax every time I wore it, but the surprised look on the clerk's face when I came out wearing it made me feel good. I didn't buy it, though: I'd never wear something that short.
I struggled with that as I wandered from store to store. Should I buy it anyhow? What exactly were the parameters on this project? I couldn't flat-out reverse everything I did, or I'd be eating when I was stuffed and denying myself food when I was starving. The point was to shake things up, change my life and change myself too. Do things I'd never have done before. Well, I'd never have bought that skirt, so...
After I went back and bought it, fighting back a giggle at the clerk's grudging, "Looked good on you," I carried on through the mall. A gorgeous brown dress, soft and flowing, caught my eye, but I looked away because I had enough brown and shouldn't be getting any more. I needed to be my opposite, and brown wasn't opposite.
I pushed the dress from my mind, which took several tries since it really had been pretty, and kept shopping, and besides the hot pink outfit I soon had a pale purple long-sleeved dress made of some lovely soft fabric with a full skirt that grazed my ankles, an ivory cardigan so soft I couldn't stop myself reaching into the bag and fondling it every chance I got, and a cobalt blue pullover.
I'd never tried bright colors like the pink and blue, afraid I was too pale to be able to stand up to them, but by making myself test them out I found that in the right shades they made my eyes so much bluer
, and instead of 'pale' my skin looked creamy and soft. I'd stayed away from pastels before since Alex didn't like them, and I'd never bought anything white, either, afraid it would get stained. I promised myself I would wear that gorgeous cardigan constantly and not stress over its possible damage.
They were all gorgeous, but with the exception of the pink skirt also professional. I didn't have to wear suits to work; I'd been doing it to make myself feel more grown-up. But maybe I didn't need that any more?
As I tried on a green dress, standing in my bare feet because my cheap black flip-flops made the dress look ridiculous, I realized that maybe I didn't need my high heels any more either. I hadn't worn anything less than a three-inch heel to work in years, since I felt I had more power and presence with a few extra inches of height. But I didn't like them. They never fit me properly, no matter how carefully I shopped, and my feet ached every night after work and often during the day. Did that mean they weren't right for me?
The green dress needed a bigger bustline than I could supply even with ten padded bras, so I changed into the purple dress and headed to the nearest shoe store. My usual heels called to me but I resisted and instead tried on pair after pair of shoes I'd usually have ignored.
In most cases, ignoring would have been the right move, but I found an amazing pair of black sandals with a low thin heel that were somehow both sexy and work-appropriate, then fell hopelessly in love with suede flats in a stunning shade of teal. I didn't have anything teal in my wardrobe, and usually that would have been an automatic no, but I loved those shoes so much I bought them anyhow then continued cruising the mall to try to find their match.
I found it in the drugstore, of all places, in the nail polish aisle. I generally wore pale gold or neutral pink, to keep up my 'professional corporate woman' image, but when I spotted a teal nail polish in the exact color of my new shoes I couldn't resist. Those sorts of colors always screamed 'teenager' to me, but in some ways I'd be back to being a teenager again if I didn't get Alex back. A twenty-eight-year-old teenager. I hadn't dated, or flirted, or any of that stuff, since I was fourteen, and barely even then. I had a lot to learn.
But no, I didn't, because I would get Alex back. No question.
"Can I ask you a question?"
I turned, startled. "Sure."
The man smiled, a dimple forming in his cheek. "My sister sent me to buy a pink nail polish that's shimmery but not glittery for her high school graduation tomorrow. I'm hopelessly lost. Do you have any idea what she means?"
If a woman had asked, I'd have been able to discuss the merits of the different pinks available without a second thought. But this cute man left me tongue-tied, and I shook my head and said, "No, sorry. Maybe the cosmetics counter can help?"
His smile was less bright than before and the dimple didn't make an appearance. "Maybe. I'll ask. Thanks."
He left, and I bought my nail polish, avoiding the cosmetic counter so I wouldn't see him again because I felt like an idiot. I was halfway home before I realized he might have been trying to pick me up. I had no sense of those things. I didn't know if I ever had, but fourteen years of not caring whether anyone else wanted me had put whatever instinct I might once have possessed to sleep more thoroughly than a thousand mugs of warm milk could ever manage.
When I got home, feeling miserable about all I had to learn, I hung up my new outfits and immediately both my closet and my mood seemed brighter. The beautiful brown dress lingered in my mind but seeing all the brown in my closet told me I'd done the right thing leaving it behind. I was trying to reverse everything and more brown simply didn't fit with my new life.
My dark clothes huddled together at the back corner, sending nervous glances at the shiny new intruders, but I wanted them all to work together so I pulled out a few of my old standby work outfits and spent a good hour trying out all possible combinations with my new pieces. I made a chart to make sure; I didn't want to miss any potential way to spice up my life.
The irony of using an analysis technique to make my life more open and free didn't escape me, but in the end I was glad I'd done it, because the new blue sweater made great friends with my dark brown dress pants although I'd never have expected that and wouldn't have tried without the chart. The teal shoes gave a kick of color to my most monochromatic outfits and I liked it, and also liked how the black sandals made my feet and ankles look great while still being more comfortable than my old heels. Neither pair was perfectly cozy, though, so I would keep looking. The perfect-fitting footwear for me was out there somewhere, and I'd find it.
I adored the pink blazer, which somehow went with nearly every bottom in my closet, but I couldn't help feeling I'd made a mistake with its matching skirt. It hit me about six inches up from my knees, and though I thought my legs looked good in it I couldn't imagine myself marching into work wearing it. Or sitting down at work wearing it.
Well, not all of my reversals would be successful. This might be my first mistake, and I'd have to accept that there'd probably be more. Can't make a whole new self without breaking a few eggs, or flashing a few coworkers.
Chapter Six
I didn't sleep well Sunday night, too afraid of every last thing in my office building reminding me of Alex, but slipping on the purple dress and new sandals made me feel better. Every time I caught a glimpse of the lovely pastel fabric, or felt it swishing about my legs, I remembered that I was my opposite now, stronger and more confident, and I could survive whatever memories tried to attack me.
On my way to work, I was surprised to get several smiles from random men and to have one of them offer me a newly vacated seat on the subway instead of taking it himself. I'd never had even a first glance from guys on my way to work, never mind a second one or any sort of interaction. Was it the clothes, or that I had my hair down loose around my shoulders instead of in its usual braid or updo? I hadn't changed my appearance to get a random man, of course, and I did wonder whether Alex would like my new look as much as these guys seemed to, but I couldn't help enjoying their validation. I didn't do anything about it, except blush and look away, but I enjoyed it.
I didn't enjoy arriving at work, though, where the sight of the glassed-in coffee shop where Alex and I had had lunch together a few times a week for four years hit me hard. Would we ever sit there again? My hands began to sweat, and the handle of my briefcase slid within my grasp.
I took a deep breath and set the briefcase down, pretending to read a note by the front door about upcoming maintenance or something and 'absently' rubbing my hands together to dry them off. You can do this, Andrea. The girl in this dress can do this. Think of those lovely teal shoes. And your new sweaters. They believe in you. Get going.
Imagining my clothes in the closet cheering me on, waving their arms if they had them and stomping their soles on the floor if they didn't, made me smile, and I picked up my briefcase and walked toward the elevators, passing the coffee shop without looking.
"Andrea! We didn't expect you today, did we?"
I smiled at Anna. "I figured I should come in since it's been a while. And I'll be here all week. If that's okay, of course."
I expected a smile back and an "oh, of course!" response, but instead I got a furrowed brow and a "well, yes, it's just..."
"Just what?"
It turned out to be 'just' that they'd let someone else use the office space I usually occupied. Before I'd left for my business trip they'd been talking about hiring another analyst since my work load was pretty intense, and while I'd been gone for the trip and for freaking out over Alex they had gone ahead with that and she, Tina, was now a full-time resident of my former part-time space.
I couldn't help feeling sick that they'd let her take it over without even telling me about it, but I did my best to hide that. And then I remembered the reversing project, and stopped hiding it. "I'm surprised, I have to admit. I'd have thought you'd make sure we both had space, and also that you'd mention her to me."
Anna blinked. "Well, a
ctually, yes, you're right. We should have. I'm sorry. But hey, how about the small conference room instead? It never gets used."
No, because while it officially held four people, Anna and I had done my last performance review in there and we'd both admitted feeling claustrophobic. But as my own work space? Basically a private office, albeit a tiny one? "That would work. I'll drop my stuff off there and then I guess I should meet Tina."
Anna nodded, then cleared her throat as I turned to go.
I stopped and faced her.
"Are you all right?"
My immediate inclination was to sweep it all under the rug, so instead I said, "Well, I wasn't for a bit, but I am now. The whole thing with Alex was a big shock and it did mess me up for a while, but I've got myself back together." Sort of. But I wouldn't share my ongoing sadness and confusion with my boss so I gave her my best confident smile. "And I'll be here every day this week, so you'll be able to see for yourself."
Anna smiled back and her shoulders dropped. "That's good." She checked her watch. "We've got a staff meeting in a minute. We've started weekly ones just to get everyone going in the right direction at the start of the week. Drop off your briefcase and then get to the big conference room, okay?"
"Sure," I said, trying not to sound surprised that my boss, who had always hated staff meetings in general and pep-talk-style ones in particular, was now holding a weekly meeting.
When I entered the conference room, my other boss Gary was sitting laughing with a woman I didn't know. Bigger and taller than me, she had thick red hair which tumbled to her shoulders in a riot of curls and waves and she wore the green dress I'd decided against at the mall because it didn't suit me. It suited her, though. She had the curves to fill it out and clearly also the confidence to carry it off.
Alarm bells went off in my head, and a voice inside me, sounding like one of those calm-voiced 'three seconds to detonation' announcers from a disaster movie, said, "She's your opposite."
A Life That Fits Page 3