by Jen Brubacher
Lisa found a skirt at the outlet mall off Highway 60. It was short by her standards, denim, with a pink stripe around the hip. She had no idea if it was nice.
In the narrow changing room she slipped it on past her feet and over her white legs, and held the cloth tight so the zipper didn’t snag her skin. Looked in the mirror and saw someone else. She shrugged.
She pulled off the tags, brought them to the cashier and said she’d wear it out of the store. As if ripping tags off unpaid merchandise was something normal that she did all the time. She offered her credit card and crossed her fingers as it was authorized.
The cashier offered her a bag for her old jeans.
Lisa drove to the beach and let the Atlantic lick up her white legs and the honey sun drip down on her shoulders until she realized she was going pink and ran for the shade.
Alone at a crab restaurant off Highway 1 she saw a man at the bar staring and she crossed her legs beneath the denim skirt. Dried sand brushed off her feet onto the wood slat floor. She smiled at the man and blushed deeper than her sun burn.
The days were so humid her skin was slick all the time. She stopped wearing sunscreen and tan-lines warred over her shoulders. One evening a wind picked up and took her hat off and up, over the mangroves and into the wilderness where insects shrieked together. Her eyes were raccooned with white circles.
Two postcards made her laugh. Lisa mailed one and spent an hour trying to think of another address. She propped it on a fence and took a photo: beach within beach. She longed for another within another. So many they'd never find her.
Home again Lisa pulled the skirt down over her brown legs and kicked it off her calloused feet. She stretched her shoulders back and yawned as if a week in the sun was something normal that she did all the time. As if back to work wouldn’t kill her, at least not this time.
Long trousers felt rough on her skin. Lisa looked in the mirror and saw someone else.
She shrugged.
All right yes, I just got home from a holiday, but I promise this isn't autobiographical. Much.
Click here for my previous flash fiction.
There's a desolation in this woman's soul. I hope she realizes that she could wear the skirt to work.
ReplyDeleteA denim skirt to work? I'm not sure. But I'd like to believe she finds another way to happiness no matter where she is or what she wears. :)
ReplyDeleteOh the things that we want to be, yet are perhaps too frightened to become. I like the sound of that holiday, although the skirt wouldn't look good on me :)
ReplyDeleteAdam
That is beautiful. I wasn't sure where you were going with it at the beginning but the turns of phrase and vivid description just pulled me right in.
ReplyDeleteIt really makes me want a holiday all the more.
So sad. I want her to move to the beach and take pictures for a living! Loved the part about the picture within a picture until she's hidden away. Lovely.
ReplyDeleteAdam, you remind me of Shakespeare: "Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt." Yes indeed. And hey, don't doubt the skirt until you try it. ;)
ReplyDeleteThank you Anna! I'm glad it summoned some of the happiness that even a lonely holiday can achieve.
Thank you, Shannon. I'd like that for her, too!
ReplyDeleteI loved all the baby steps toward change. Big change comes in drips. She sounds like she's on her way.
ReplyDeletelovely work!
Karen :0)
Much like Tony, I saw the lonliness in her soul. Here she is, at the beach, finds a funny postcard, and can't think of anyone to send it to after an hour. I liked the minimalism of the narrative, but still incredibly rich descriptions. Well done.
ReplyDeleteI love all the little sensual details about the sand between her toes and the way her skin changes color. Nicely circular story. It starts with her feeling like someone else and ends the same way. Well written.
ReplyDeleteI love all the little details in this that bring the story to life. And I love that it looks like a change for the better is coming into her life sooner or later. It looks like she'll see to that. Good story!
ReplyDeleteWonderful piece. Rich yet simple and complex all at once... I loved "blushed deeper than her sun burn..." poetic.
ReplyDeleteOh, the circling back to the shrug, the shifting from white to tan, and all the gorgeous details in this are amazing. I felt the salt mist and the humid sweat.
ReplyDeleteGREAT job, Jen!
It's always tough to have to go back to work. Nice details in this. It seems sad, not just for having to go back to work, but Lisa seems lonely and wistful, always yearning for something else.
ReplyDelete~jon
As others noted, there is a sad quality to the story...now whether it's a sadness within her, or the sadness at returning to work...
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed the tie-in at the beginning and the end about looking in the mirror and seeing someone else. Nicely done.
I love the line about the water licking her legs and the sun dripping down her shoulders. I need a vacation. :)
ReplyDeleteVery nice arc to this.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, lyrical piece, Jen. Really lovely. I'd like her to move to the beach and become a photographer, too.
ReplyDeleteSimply excellent story.
I liked the description. There's a lot more to this character.
ReplyDeleteI guess clothes make the woman, too, so long as she'll wear them out. Here's hoping for her.
ReplyDeleteI wish I got here sooner, as everyone said it. This has a stark beauty; loved the mirror and her seeing someone else; the details are amazing; so sensual.
ReplyDeleteI love when the reader is taken on a journey.
ReplyDeleteWell writter - great discriptions.
Thank you very much, again! I'm glad to find such a kind audience for Lisa. And the details are important to me because they really are what make a great holiday (& a great life, not to get too cheesy or anything.)
ReplyDeleteI really liked the mood you created. All the subtle little things. I could practically smell the beach. Nicely done.
ReplyDeleteI loved this. It's sad that she can't think of anyone to mail the postcard to, and that's she's spending her holiday alone, but she did get a new skirt, at least...
ReplyDeleteWonderfully written.