Maddy pressed her lips together to stop herself laughing again.
Not as such,she typed.
How do you feel, though?Eva asked.
Maddy paused, trying to find a diplomatic review. In the end, she just tapped out the truth.
Silly.
The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.
Then say no to the dress.
Maddy grinned as she texted back.
My mother likes it.
Great. She can get herself one,Eva said. And you can get something YOU like.
Out in the main room, her mother’s voice floated through the curtain. Adam laughed politely at whatever she’d said.
They moved through dresses methodically. Lace that scratched. Sequins that glittered too brightly under the lights. A ballgown so heavy that when Maddy turned quickly, she almost fell over.
Each time she stepped out, she performed. Each time she went back inside, she sent Eva a photograph.
Too much?
Is this insane?
Do I look washed out?
And each time Eva responded with precise, thoughtful, and occasionally dry responses.
You’re disappearing.
How does it feel to breathe?
That colour’s not right for your skin tone.
It became a rhythm. Step out and smile. Step back and close the curtain. Text Eva.
It wasn’t that the dresses were all terrible. Some were kind of okay. One made her waist look good. Another gave her a kind of regal height. But the only opinions that seemed to matter were arriving in text bubbles on her phone.
Halfway through, Petra handed her an ivory dress with minimal embellishment.
Maddy pulled it on and stared. She didn’t look like a bride in a film. She looked like herself. But formal.
She stepped out thinking, This is it. They’ll have to see that this is it.
But there was a small pause.
‘Oh,’ her mother said. ‘That’s… simple.’
Adam leaned forward. ‘I like that one, but not as much as the first one.’
Back in the changing room, Maddy didn’t even hesitate before taking a photo.
This one,she wrote.
