The Red Dress
by Susan Peck
The woman’s red dress was stained with even darker spots of burgundy red. Her body lay limp like a forgotten Barbie doll next to the shards of glass and twisted metal. The black Cadillac was smashed so badly that it was hard to tell if it was a sedan. A pool of blood begins to collect around the woman’s body. Morgan had just gotten her hair dyed the perfect shade of champagne blonde earlier that week. The paramedics moved her unconscious body onto a stretcher with care. They cut her clothes to treat the open wounds.
She bought the dress at Saks Fifth Avenue earlier that day. Morgan approached the saleslady, “I need to look as pretty as possible tonight. This is my first date in years, and I’m nervous,” she said. Morgan hadn’t been on a date in twenty years; she was fresh out of college when she met her ex-husband. Dating was intimidating, and her ex’s affair didn’t help her confidence either.
Jennifer showed her the most brilliant red dress in her department. It was five hundred dollars and a rich fabric that begged to be touched and admired. “This would look splendid on you! The red will make you stand out,” she said.
After seeing the price tag, Morgan hesitated. She muttered something about to hell with her old penny-pinching ways. She smiled mischievously and placed the dress on the checkout counter.
When Morgan walked out, Jennifer heaved a sigh of relief. Her commission was only five percent, but such luxury purchases kept her afloat. Her hourly wage was not even close to covering her rent. She was about ten thousand dollars in debt due to her shopping addiction. Jennifer was trying her best; she even managed to return the Louboutin pumps. But last year’s purchases continued to haunt her. Every month, the credit card interest grew along with her anxiety. It was better than drugs, she would tell herself. Things could always be worse.
Jennifer’s addiction began when her mother died. Her mother never seemed to love or care about her, so her passing was a strange mix of emotions. She felt guilty about not caring more. Then, she would feel an odd, unexplainable emptiness. She told her boyfriend, Nick, “All the neglect and anger comes back. Knowing she’s gone makes me realize our relationship will never improve. That hope is a bygone dream. I am destined never to feel love from my mother in this life.”
Nick would hug her and whisper soothing words into her ears at night. She loved him and knew that he understood why she was who she was. Nick’s comforting eyes, soft brown hair, and calming presence helped ground Jennifer. He did not mention his father being sick out of respect for her. He knew she cared, but he also knew it would remind Jennifer of her mom. So, Nick would visit his dad whenever she was out with her friends.
That night, Nick decided to visit his father at Saint Mary’s Hospital. The cancer was progressing; he knew this might be his dad’s last year. He walked into the lobby and looked at the flower bouquets for sale in the gift shop. Dad always loved roses. His father didn’t care if people thought they were cliche–they reminded him of his deceased wife. As Nick made his way to the checkout, he heard a group of people yelling. His focus shifted from the roses in his hands to the woman being rushed to the Intensive Care Unit.
A nurse was pushing the blood-covered hospital stretcher. She shouted to the doctor beside her, “I don’t think she’ll make it.” The staff hadn’t seen such a horrible car accident victim in almost a month. The woman’s beautiful blonde hair was tangled and soaked with blood, and her skin was red. Red stained the stretcher and everything the body touched. Nick saw the red body rush by and looked at his red roses. He stepped out of the checkout line. Nick placed them back on the shelf and reached for the white bouquet instead.
She bought the dress at Saks Fifth Avenue earlier that day. Morgan approached the saleslady, “I need to look as pretty as possible tonight. This is my first date in years, and I’m nervous,” she said. Morgan hadn’t been on a date in twenty years; she was fresh out of college when she met her ex-husband. Dating was intimidating, and her ex’s affair didn’t help her confidence either.
Jennifer showed her the most brilliant red dress in her department. It was five hundred dollars and a rich fabric that begged to be touched and admired. “This would look splendid on you! The red will make you stand out,” she said.
After seeing the price tag, Morgan hesitated. She muttered something about to hell with her old penny-pinching ways. She smiled mischievously and placed the dress on the checkout counter.
When Morgan walked out, Jennifer heaved a sigh of relief. Her commission was only five percent, but such luxury purchases kept her afloat. Her hourly wage was not even close to covering her rent. She was about ten thousand dollars in debt due to her shopping addiction. Jennifer was trying her best; she even managed to return the Louboutin pumps. But last year’s purchases continued to haunt her. Every month, the credit card interest grew along with her anxiety. It was better than drugs, she would tell herself. Things could always be worse.
Jennifer’s addiction began when her mother died. Her mother never seemed to love or care about her, so her passing was a strange mix of emotions. She felt guilty about not caring more. Then, she would feel an odd, unexplainable emptiness. She told her boyfriend, Nick, “All the neglect and anger comes back. Knowing she’s gone makes me realize our relationship will never improve. That hope is a bygone dream. I am destined never to feel love from my mother in this life.”
Nick would hug her and whisper soothing words into her ears at night. She loved him and knew that he understood why she was who she was. Nick’s comforting eyes, soft brown hair, and calming presence helped ground Jennifer. He did not mention his father being sick out of respect for her. He knew she cared, but he also knew it would remind Jennifer of her mom. So, Nick would visit his dad whenever she was out with her friends.
That night, Nick decided to visit his father at Saint Mary’s Hospital. The cancer was progressing; he knew this might be his dad’s last year. He walked into the lobby and looked at the flower bouquets for sale in the gift shop. Dad always loved roses. His father didn’t care if people thought they were cliche–they reminded him of his deceased wife. As Nick made his way to the checkout, he heard a group of people yelling. His focus shifted from the roses in his hands to the woman being rushed to the Intensive Care Unit.
A nurse was pushing the blood-covered hospital stretcher. She shouted to the doctor beside her, “I don’t think she’ll make it.” The staff hadn’t seen such a horrible car accident victim in almost a month. The woman’s beautiful blonde hair was tangled and soaked with blood, and her skin was red. Red stained the stretcher and everything the body touched. Nick saw the red body rush by and looked at his red roses. He stepped out of the checkout line. Nick placed them back on the shelf and reached for the white bouquet instead.
Susan Peck is a creative writing MFA student.