My aunt stayed by my side and didn’t say a word to discourage me.
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Some nights I cried silently while I was working. Other nights, I spoke out loud to Dad.
My aunt didn’t hear me or decided not to talk about it.
Every piece I cut had a special meaning. The shirt Dad was wearing on the day I got home in high school, standing outside our front door, telling me I was going to succeed, even if I was terrified.
The washed-out green shirt he wore the afternoon he ran next to my bike longer than his knees would have liked. The gray shirt he was wearing the day he hugged me after the worst day of my first year, without asking me any questions.
Cette robe était un catalogue de sa vie. Chaque couture en était le reflet.
Chaque pièce que j’ai coupée portait quelque chose.
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La veille du bal, je l’ai terminée.
I put it on and I stood in front of the mirror of my aunt’s hallway, and for a long time I just looked at myself.
It was not a designer’s dress. Far from it. But it was sewn from all the colors that my father had ever worn. She suited me perfectly, and for a moment, I felt like Dad was there with me.
My aunt appeared in the doorway. She stayed there, surprised.
“Nicole, my brother would have loved it,” she said while sniffing. “He would have completely lost his mind… in the right way. It’s beautiful, sweetheart. »
Il était cousu de toutes les couleurs que mon père avait jamais portées.
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Je l’ai lissé avec mes deux mains.
For the first time since the hospital had called, I didn’t feel like anything was missing. It was like Dad was there.
***
The long-awaited prom had finally arrived.
The room was shining with dim lights and loud music, buzzing with the energy charged with a night that everyone had planned for months.
I came in dressed in my dress, and the whispers started before I even took ten steps after I walked through the door.
I felt like Dad was there, just folded into the fabric.
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A girl sitting near the front said loud enough that the whole section hears her: “Is this dress made from the old clothes of our concierge?! »
A boy sitting next to her laughed.
The laughter has spread. The students near me have moved away, creating this cruel little space that forms around a person whose crowd decided to make fun of them.
“I made this dress with my father’s old shirts,” I said. “He passed away a few months ago, and that was my way of paying tribute to him. So maybe you don’t have to make fun of something you don’t know. »
“Is this dress made from the old clothes of our concierge?! »
For a moment, no one said anything.
Then another girl looked up at the sky and burst out laughing. “Relax! No one asked you to tell us your sad story! »
I was 18, but at that time, I felt like I was 11 years old again, standing in a hallway, hearing: “She’s the concierge’s daughter… he’s the one cleaning our toilet! I wanted nothing more than to disappear into the wall.
A chair was waiting for me near the edge of the room. I sat, intertwined my fingers on my knees and breathed slowly and steadily, for I refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing me collapse in front of them.
Someone in the crowd shouted again, loud enough to cover the music, that my dress was “disgusting.”
I wanted nothing more than to disappear.
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It touched me deep inside myself. My eyes filled with tears before I could hold them back.
I was on the verge of a breakup when the music stopped. The DJ looked up, perplexed, and then moved away from the cabin.
Our manager, Mr. Bradley, stood in the center of the room, a microphone in his hand.
“Before I continue the party, I have something important to say,” he said.
All eyes turned to him. And all the people who laughed two minutes before remained completely still.
All the faces of the room turned to him.
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M. Bradley looked at the entire room before speaking. The room was completely silent; no music, no whispers, just the particular silence of a crowd waiting.
“I’d like to take a minute,” he continued, “to tell you about the dress Nicole is wearing today. »
“For 11 years, his father, Johnny, took care of this school. It was late to repair the broken lockers so that the students would not lose their business. He sewed the torn backpacks and made them discreetly without leaving a word. And he washed the sports uniforms before the games so that no athlete had to admit that he could not afford the laundry fee. »
