“Okay,” I hear myself saying. I take the costume into the bathroom and wedge myself into it. It’s a bit tight and the skirt is short, but my boobs steal the show as they threaten to spill out. Seriously, where did she get the pattern for this costume? This is not the Snow White I remember from childhood.
“Come out!” Cat calls from the living room.
I take a deep breath and wander out, feeling ludicrous. She has changed into her Queen costume, which is equally revealing.
“Wow!” Cat says, beaming. “You look great.”
“Yours looks good too. But…” I run my eyes over her costume, confused. “These outfits are quite sexy. I thought Halloween was about dressing scary.” Although, given the amount of my flesh that’s exposed in this outfit, maybe it is a bit scary.
“No one dresses scary. Haven’t you seen Mean Girls?”
A laugh escapes me. I have, but I didn’t realize that was real.
“So will you come out? I need Snow White to complete the look.”
I glance down at my costume again, thinking of all the time she spent making this for me. She’s only known me for a couple of weeks, but she’s gone to the trouble of custom-making me a Halloween costume so I can have a fun night out? That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.
“Alright,” I say with a smile. Besides, Halloween in New York could be fun, right? “But I’m going to need a drink.”
We open a bottle of wine while we get ready. I spend extra time on my appearance (since “sexy” is apparently the theme of the evening), curling my short hair into loose waves before putting a red bow in, and borrowing some dark red lipstick from Cat. Instead of my usual comfortable ballet flats, I opt for heels so my bare legs look longer. We’d just come out of winter back home, so my legs are paler than I’d like. But then I guess Snow White isn’t exactly a bronzed goddess, is she?
By the time we’re getting into an Uber to head to the East Village, I’m feeling excited and, dare I admit it, a little sexy.
It’s nice, actually. Work has been awful and I’m stuck sleeping on a friend’s couch, but tonight I can go out with some friends and pretend my life isn’t a total mess. Isn’t that what Halloween is all about, anyway? Dressing up and pretending?
As we push through the crowd at Bounce and find a table, I see that Cat wasn’t wrong about the sexy thing—almost no one is dressed scary. But I find myself feeling self-conscious again. The women in this city are something else, and every time I think I’m looking good, I go out and remember I’m not from this world.
“Thanks for making me a costume,” I say as we slide into the booth. “That was sweet.”
“I nailed it, too. Got your measurements pretty much spot on.”
“Yeah, how’d you do that?”
She takes a sip of her vodka soda, assessing my costume. “I have a good eye for this stuff. I’ve been sewing forever.”
I nod. It’s well-made, with lots of details. I glance down at my cleavage on full display and giggle. “It’s a bit tight, but—”
“It’s supposed to be tight. You look hot.”
My face warms as I sip my wine, and Cat gives me a funny look.
“You know that, right? I’d kill to have curves like yours.”
I straighten, smiling modestly. “Thanks. It’s been kind of a culture shock, coming from a small town to this glamorous city. And, I don’t know, I’ve been feeling a bit bad about myself since my ex…”
She waves a hand. “That’s normal. But trust me, he’s an idiot.”
“Who’s an idiot?” Geoff drops onto the vinyl seat beside me. I turn to take in his costume: a red and black plaid shirt with black suspenders, over jeans. In his hand he’s holding a plastic ax.
“Oh, hey! You look great!” Cat grins and Geoff gives a half-bow in his seat. “Very lumbersexual.”
A little snort-laugh comes from my mouth and for a second I’m horrified, thinking Geoff might be offended.
But he just shrugs. “I figured if I came as a lumberjack I might attract a bear.”
He and Cat share a laugh, then turn to look at my mystified expression when I don’t join in.
“A bear?”
Geoff chuckles, patting me on the arm. “It’s a gay term for a guy who’s big and hairy. You know, like a bear.”
“Oh! That’s cute.”
He wiggles his eyebrows playfully. “You two look fantastic. Now,” he says, adjusting his glasses and taking a sip of merlot, “who’s an idiot?”
“Alex’s ex.”
Geoff raises his eyebrows. “Ex? Do tell.”
So I fill him in on the details of Travis dumping me on my birthday behind the Italian restaurant to go travel the world. In truth, I haven’t thought about Travis all that much since I’ve arrived in the city, mostly because I’ve been in survival mode, too worried I’ll have to go crawling back home.
But as I recount the whole sorry story—how we weren’t together for long but I’d kind of thought it was going somewhere—a strange sensation creeps over me. With every sympathetic head nod from Geoff, I feel increasingly foolish. Geoff and Cat are older than I am—mid-thirties, I think—and clearly a lot more worldly than me. I bet they’d never be so stupid as to believe there’s such a thing as happily ever after.
I give them a strained smile as I wrap up my sad little tale. “But it led me here, where I’m starting a new life. So, it all turned out okay in the end.” I decide not to mention that it doesn’t feel okay right now. No point in killing the mood.
Cat pushes out of the booth. “I’ll get us more drinks. Same again?”
We both nod, and I drain my wineglass with a heavy heart. Thank
