Genevieve took it from her mama when she was only ten, hiding it in an old shoebox underneath her bed, saving it and savoring it for the best day of her life. If you asked, she’d say she only borrowed it. And then, perhaps with a small smile and knowing eyes, that it was blue- pale, old-fashioned blue- because it was just that: old. Gene had always reasoned that she’d receive something new, so there was no need to worry. Things would be complete. She was carefree at ten.
She’s already removed it from the fading box and slips it on over her left leg, up to the choicest part of her thigh, and admires the taunt elastic and lace against her naked body. Somehow, it looks perfectly natural next to her crude cut scars, and she almost smiles.

Walking calmly to the closet, Gene zips a dress out of its encasement, her mind remarking on the day she first felt a strong pull on her heart.
“I’d like to get a dress”
“Oh, are you to a bridesmaid, Miss?”
“No, we’re eloping, so it’s hush-hush.”
“Oh, okay. Congratulations! Our last appointment canceled, so I can go ahead and take your measurements. You can look through the catalogs there if you wish and find one.”
“I already have.”
“Then right this way.”
Gene had gotten the call four months later that it had come in with its sheer fabric, ruffles, ribbons and lace. She had hasted to try it on, and it was as imagined. The low neckline gave her bosom the feeling of an elite queen, and the long sleeves smoothed her arms and hid her trials. She had felt less ugly, and taken it right home. Gene feels almost beautiful now as it slides directly over her nudity, as she strives to button and zip it herself.

A tiara sits on her dresser, one she had found and bought at age sixteen, wrapping it in bright pink tissue paper and tears for the man who would take her away. She wants to put this on, but first she ties her hair in a knot of Celtic fashion and cuts it. Left on the old hand-me-down dresser, it replaces the tiara and awaits a lover who will never come.

Gene glances at the clock, twenty three until four, and calmly slips into her damsel heels while adjusting the trail of her skirt. She glides out of her apartment, and down the stairs. Walking towards the garage, her head is held up for once. She climbs into her two year old Saturn for the most thrilling drive of her night. It lasts five minutes, and then the car pulls over with a sudden stop. Gene knows somewhere it declares “No Parking Anytime”, but there has to be parking for sometimes, and this just may be the time.

Genevieve had thought she’d find love in such a dreamy city when she’d moved here three years earlier, but now she knows that it’s only the placid shoreline and bridge that love her. She climbs up over the railing, to hear a cab car screech to a stop. “Hey lady!” She smiles. “Lady”. But it’s already past the time, and she’s already pitching forward to face the black-blue Pacific.

And you know what, it might just be the happiest day of her life.