There was no noise be the tapping of her silver gel extensions as she tapped on the phone screen.
Adam was chewing on some prosciutto, oblivious to my intimidation.
“Ah, here we go!” she said, showing me her very first Instagram post. “Two years ago, check this out.”
I took a look at the phone and saw an image of Laura standing next to a bust with a few scraps of fabric hanging off of it. The Laura in the photo only bore the slightest resemblance to the confident, over-the-top fabulous woman sitting next to me. The Laura from the past had round, wiry glasses that didn’t compliment her face, her dark hair was scraggly and unkempt in a messy bun with a few strands falling to her shoulders, and she was a little overweight. The dress she was trying to make was equally unkempt. Even though I was new to the technical aspects of fashion, I could see that there was bunching at the seams, the fabric hung unnaturally on the bust, and there was some fraying at the bottom of the dress.
“Everybody’s got to start somewhere!” she said brightly. “This is before I started at Parsons — when I was still trying to make clothes in my mom’s basement. I went into our dress-up trunk—” she shot a look at Adam — “and pulled out one of the dresses that my mom picked up at a thrift store. The material was god-awful!” she said with a laugh. “But I tried to make it into something extraordinary.”
“I.. I see,” I said, struggling to find a compliment.
She was perceptive; she noticed. “Oh don’t worry about trying to make me feel good about it, I know that was a disaster! The thing was, that was my very first attempt. And with encouragement from my mom and this guy over here,” she kicked Adam gently under the table, “I tried again and again and again. There were a lot of times I wanted to give up, but my mom and Adam wouldn’t let me!”
I looked at Adam. He was blushing ever so slightly.
“You give me too much credit,” he said softly, looking down at the pile of cheese.
“What! No, if anything I don’t give you enough credit!” she argued. Then she turned her bright green eyes to me. “Don’t let him fool you — Adam is like… the heart of this family. He’s a big teddy bear!”
“I am not,” Adam challenged.
“You are and you know it! Now stop being modest!”
She went on to chatter about how Adam was always there to support her when she needed him. He even let her stay with him for a few months when she was down on her luck in high school.
I sat back, loving to learn more about this man I was in love with. The more I learned, the more I adored him.
“He’s the salt of the earth, this one,” Laura gushed.
Adam cleared his throat. “That’s a bunch of nonsense. I just do what I can to help the people I care about,” he said.
But the hint of pride in his voice was unmistakable.
That was so Adam — taking care of everyone around him. I sighed, swooning.
“Which is why I’m so happy that he finally found someone that fits him so well!” Laura continued. “Anyway, you said you want to get started in fashion design? Adam mentioned you’re finishing up your degree in English.”
“Uh, yeah,” I said. It was suddenly becoming apparent to me that I had been talked about a great deal.
“No problem, no problem! It’s never too late to try something else. A lot of people in my classes have degrees from other universities, then decided that fashion was their calling.”
“I’m… I’m a little afraid that I might be the oldest one in the class,” I said, voicing one of the fears that had been bouncing around in my mind.
“Oh, noooo,” She exclaimed, her eyes wide. “The oldest person in my graduating class is sixty-two. The youngest person is twenty,” she said. “What, did you think everyone there was eighteen or something?”
“…well, yeah,” I admitted. And I had pictured that; that I would be working in a bright white room surrounded by bright young faces, all cutting fabric. And they’d all be better than me, because everyone was always better than me at creative stuff.
“Look, it’s never too late,” Laura emphasized. “Here, let me make and email introduction to one of my professors that I think can help you out…” she said, tapping on her phone.
“Wait, like, right now?!” I asked.
She looked up at me and blinked a few times. “Yeah, why not?”
“I just… I don’t have anything to show, and it’s the weekend…”
“So?” she said, her dark, perfectly manicured eyebrow stretching above the rim of her glasses. “It’s the weekend, she’ll check her email Monday or something. It’ll be fine.”
I relaxed a little, but still had some fears circling in my head. I imagined the professor emailing me back asking me for a portfolio or past work I’d done, and I wouldn’t be able to come up with anything. I’d look like a fool.
“Don’t worry about not having anything to show yet— this professor has helped hundreds of students throughout the years get into Parson’s and enter the fashion industry. You’ll be fine; it’s just an email.”
It’s just an email, my thoughts echoed. And that was when I finally let go of my nervousness of the whole business.
I looked over at Adam while she was typing out the email, and he smiled at me with his eyes twinkling.
* * *
Throughout the night, more and more of Adam’s family members arrived.
It was everything I’d always wanted; Adam introduced me to each one of them with that same proudness that made my heart soar. We played cards, caught up with everyone’s lives, and chatted by the bonfire with s’mores.
Unlike with my own family gatherings, I could feel the palpable love that was in the air with
