Gray: That’s a bit of a stretch.
Jude: Is it? Maybe if it was JUST a dress. But I know it’s more than that to you.
Jude: I get it. It sucks.
Jude: You’re allowed to think it sucks.
I feel hot tears prickle in the corners of my eyes. It does suck. There are people sick and dying all over the world and I can’t leave my house and now I won’t ever wear this dress. Things most definitely suck right now.
Gray: Whew.
Jude: Right? So yeah, Gray. I’m proud of you for doing this.
How is he so nice?
Gray: How are you so nice?
Jude: You’re the one cutting up your dream dress to make masks for people you’ve never met. How are YOU so nice?
Gray: I’m not sure I am.
Jude: I’m not sure I am either. My younger brother definitely thinks I’m a dick.
Jude: It’s easy to be nice to you.
Gray: Your brother and my little sister could start a club.
I’m definitely stalling.
Gray: Okay.
Gray: Okay. I’m going to make some serious cuts now. Thanks for cheering me on!
Jude: You’re welcome. Can’t wait to see how they turn out!
I toss my phone on my bed behind me, where I can’t be distracted by boys with sweet words. I need to concentrate. It’s time to make a whole lot of somethings out of nothing and let the magic hum of my sewing machine lull me into my happy place.
—
One week later, I’m finished. No more dress. Just masks. And last night Jude asked what time I’d be dropping off the masks, so he could make sure he was there to meet me.
TO MEET ME.
Now I really wish I’d sent a selfie before this. I’m not nearly as nervous about seeing Jude as I am about Jude seeing me. Which is ridiculous. I’m not usually like that. It’s just that I really, really like him. Which seems impossible since I’ve never seen his face and I don’t even know what he sounds like, but I know his heart? If that makes sense? Three nights in a row now, we’ve been up past one a.m. messaging on A2NeighborGram. I know about his family (stupidly in-love parents, annoying younger brother who’s a freshman in high school), his favorite foods (barbacoa tacos from Chelas), favorite music (Isak Danielson and Lewis Capaldi), favorite movie (Beverly Hills Cop). I know about his hobbies (playing guitar, Call of Duty, and street hockey). I know his goals (college in the fall, performing a song he’s written in front of an audience). His fears (school shootings and that his grandpa will catch COVID-19). And I know his history (one quasi-serious high school girlfriend who fell in love with her female best friend…things ended amicably).
My phone buzzes with a text. Oh. And that. We exchanged numbers, so we could text all hours.
Jude: Still coming at 10?
Gray: Yep. Packing up the masks now.
Jude: Great! We got a call but I sent my cousin out. I’m determined not to miss you.
Gray: Okay, then. Just remember: I’m the really gorgeous one.
I cringe. What am I saying?
Jude: Obviously.
I grin, relieved.
Gray: That’s the spirit.
Gray: See you soon.
I stash my phone in my pocket and give myself a final once-over in the mirror. First time leaving the house this week, so I decided to have fun with it. A pair of skinny-fit denim overalls, cuffed; a bright red tank to celebrate the sunny spring weather; and some carefully applied winged eyeliner. I’ve got my dark brown hair curled and pulled into a high pony and I’ve tied a cherry red bandana around it. I slip into my flip-flops and grab another red bandana that I’ve made into a face mask.
Am I dressed like Rosie the Riveter?
Yes.
Did I coordinate to match my face mask?
You betcha.
You can take the girl out of the costume department, but you can’t take the costume department out of the girl.
I grab the box of masks in both hands, wave at my sister who’s on the couch watching Schitt’s Creek again, and am out the door and into the sunshine. It’s glorious. The kind of day when I want to drive through for a smoothie, crank some tunes, and tool around Joann Fabrics.
But since that kind of thing isn’t allowed, I’ll just stick to the music. I turn on some Kacey Musgraves and take some cleansing breaths as I slip on my sunglasses. I can do this. It’s just a normal day.
The storefront Jude’s uncle rented is in a strip mall. When I pull into the lot, I can see it’s the only place with an open door. Everyone else is boarded up for the duration. There’s a bookstore on the corner that is doing curbside pickup, but they must have limited hours because the lot is a ghost town. I go around my little Outback, open the trunk, and remove my masks just as another car pulls up, music blaring. A teenaged guy who looks vaguely familiar jumps out, mask on. He’s gangly and a little bit soft around the middle. His hair is a brilliant carrot color, sticking out at fuzzy angles, and he’s wearing a bright neon tee that says DUBOIS DELIVERY.
I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off.
“Gray Archer! The mask queen!”
I squint. “Jude?”
He laughs. “Wrong guy. I’m Colin. I don’t know if you remember me….Seven Brides for Seven Brothers?”
“Oh, right!” I nod as I suddenly place him. Colin DuBois goes to my high school; he played the lead in the fall musical while I designed costumes and sets. He’s got strong vocals and charisma for days, and I’m pretty sure I met his boyfriend at the cast party last fall.
Jude mentioned that he works with his cousin; he must be related to Colin. Jude DuBois, perhaps? Very French. I tuck this potential last name away for secret Google research later.
“Jude! Gray’s here!”
My heart leaps up somewhere near my esophagus and I whip around, box
