Piece of Work by Staci Hart

Author:Staci Hart [Hart, Staci]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-05-16T16:00:00+00:00

17

Stone Cold

Rin

I glanced at the clock, standing over my suitcase with my hands on my hips and a frown on my face.

“But he told me to bring a cocktail dress,” I argued.

Katherine folded her arms from her perch at my desk. “No skirts. You are not allowed to wear skirts in his presence. Learn your lesson, Rin.”

“But I packed every pair of pants I own.” I sighed and turned for my closet. “I’m taking the dress.”

Katherine repeated herself over Val telling her why she was wrong, and Amelia and I shared a look and a shrug as I reached into my closet. The dress wasn’t anything fancy—just a simple black dress with cap sleeves, a boatneck, and a beautiful cut—but Marnie had sold me a necklace and a trio of bracelets to wear with it to dress it up. So, in it went.

I was mildly appalled at the amount of luggage I needed to get me through a five day trip, including two pairs of heels, a pair of flats, a big bag of makeup, and a curling iron, among way too many pairs of slacks. It was ridiculous how high maintenance I had become.

But it wasn’t just the luggage. It was me. And I barely recognized myself.

Lately, that hadn’t been feeling like such a good thing.

“What’s that look for?” Val asked, concerned. “You okay?”

“I’ve been trying to figure out since yesterday how I got here,” I gestured to the embarrassing pile of toiletries, “but I can’t.”

“You mean, how you turned into a badass?” Amelia asked. “Because I am really, really jealous.”

I frowned. “Jealous? Because I’m having an identity crisis?”

Val made a face. “You’re not having an identity crisis. You’re becoming.”

“Like a beautiful butterfly,” Amelia sang, flitting her hands at her shoulders and batting her lashes.

“I’m serious,” I said even though I found myself chuckling. “I mean, who even am I?”

“Do you feel different?” Katherine asked, the picture of pragmatism.

“Well, yeah. Completely different. Hence the crisis.”

“But good different or bad different?” she added.

I thought it over. “Mostly good. But then I have these moments when I feel like a fake and a phony. Like I’m playing dress-up, pretending to be someone I’m not.”

“But do you really? Do you feel like you’re not you?”

“Well…no. I feel like me, but…I don’t know. Like when I wear all this, I’m not afraid. I don’t mind when people comment on my height because I chose to put on shoes that make me taller. I don’t care if people look at me because I’m wearing clothes that make me feel pretty and lipstick that makes me feel brave. Is that weird? Am I setting women back seventy years? Am I betraying feminism to feel pretty? I am, aren’t I?” I rambled, trying not to panic.

“No,” Val answered. “If you want to wear red lipstick and curl your hair, do it. If you want to wear no makeup and shave your head, do it. If you want to clean house and take care of your kids all day, do it.

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