Chapter 204: The Dress
- RAYA -
The sweet, quiet Luciana leads us to her home nearby, and now Rory and I are waiting in a spare bedroom while Dex and our Luci are on the porch with mango agua frescas. There are scraps of fabric all over the room, and a sewing machine sits in the corner.
"You sewed this dress yourself?" I ask while the new Luci rummages in a closet.
"Yes. I had a dream about it," she calls back, and a shiver coasts down my body. Rory looks at me with wide eyes.
"A dream?" Rory repeats in question, but her knowing gaze doesn’t stray from me.
Before she can answer, Luciana reemerges with a garment bag and lays it on the bed. Then she straightens and stares at it rather than unzipping it for the reveal.
"The woman I buy my fabric from received the lace by accident in a shipment, and it was too beautiful for her to send back. I saw it one day shopping months ago, but I didn’t buy it. Not that day. It was too expensive, and I don’t make expensive things. But then I had the dream..."
Finally, she unzips the white bag and pulls the dress forth to hold it up for us. It’s... breathtaking. Absolutely breathtaking.
"Raya..." Rory gasps softly.
"I know," I nod, stepping forward and touching the delicate lace.
There is a deep v neckline, long bell sleeves, and what looks like a small train in back that hangs lower than the front. It’s simple and sweet and exquisite.
"Where did the lace come from?" I ask, letting the tips of my fingers trail lightly across it.
"Italy. It was handmade in Italy."
Goosebumps instantly sprout from my head all the way to my toes, and tears form shortly after. My fingers curl into my palm just as Rory grabs my arm like she’s seeking a lifeline in the face of something terrifying.
"Is everything okay?" Luciana asks, shifting her pinched gaze from me to Rory and back.
"Yes," I chuckle as a tear glides down my cheek. "May I try it on?
"Yes, of course," she says, tearing her eyes from us and draping the dress back across the bed.
Luciana makes her way out of the room, shutting the door behind her. When she’s gone, Rory and I just stare at the dress without moving.
"What is happening, Raya? Why these dreams?"
"I don’t know," I whisper, shaking my head and wiping another tear. "Maybe it is actually ancestors. Or witches. I don’t know."
"It’s Italian lace," Rory says, still grasping my arm. "That showed up here like it was preparing for you. Like it had an invitation."
"And the dressmaker’s name is Luciana," I add and then finally look at my sister.
"That doesn’t mean anything," Rory snorts, but the attempt to make fun of the coincidence quickly vanishes from her expression.
"You don’t find that oddly reassuring about the guy YOU are sharing dreams with?"
"No." Her face scrunches up in denial. "But if it reassures you..."
"I don’t need reassuring."
"About this maybe you do," she throws a hand toward the dress. "That this dress is the one. Or that we should have followed her here in the first place. Maybe that’s why we all did. This isn’t about me. It’s not..." She shakes her head, staring at the garment on the bed in thought. "And the dress fits, I can already tell. Are you going to try it on or what?"
Rory lets go of my arm after attempting to explain away something we both know to be true. I don’t believe there are any coincidences—not now. Not after everything.
"Rory, the way you two were looking at each other at lunch..."
"He’s just... pretty," she says dismissively, lifting one sleeve of lace. "He’s a pretty man with pretty words. It’s easy to, you know, lose focus."
"Lose focus on what?" I chuckle. "Your denial? You are having these strange dreams, too. Remember? He took your demons."
She shakes her head, lips drawn into a pressed, thin line that almost looks frightened. "I don’t want to talk about it."
"I know you have issues trusting people..."
"You think?" She snaps, the sharp blade of her words slicing through the air between us, and then her eyebrows tent in regret. She swallows hard. "I’m sorry."
"It’s okay," I say softly and touch her arm.
"I don’t want to only be here because I need reassurance or because you need to watch me or save me or babysit me." The words rush out of her. "I thought I was here because I’m sharing something beautiful with you."
"You are. Of course you are." I pull her into a hug, squeezing her with sincerity. Obviously she took what I said the wrong way. "It’s just that yesterday... you said you want to disappear," I mumble into her hair, the memory of her confession sinking deep inside the center of my chest.
"Only because there are dark memories that won’t let me go," she whispers back, and the explanation brings angry tears to my eyes that make me squeeze her tighter. If only I could have prevented those things and protected her the way a big sister should.
"But you don’t need to worry about me," she says finally, pulling out of the hug. "It’s okay for me to feel like that. It’s okay to need time, and I can be happy and celebrate with you in the meantime."
"Okay. I know," I nod, wiping tears away.
"I’m fine," she adds, watching me carefully—making certain that I believe it.
"Okay." When the last of my tears are dry, I give her a smile to assure her that I do.
"Now, will you try this magical dress on?" She sighs with a smile, and it feels like a small weight has lifted.
Rory doesn’t want me to be so focused on her, so I’ll give her space. She won’t be pushed into seeing anything anyway, and she definitely won’t embrace the idea of a destiny that is laid out and waiting before she is ready. That requires a lot of faith that a few creepy dreams, pretty Italian words, and a woman named Luciana obviously haven’t succeeded in giving her yet.
When I ditch my outfit and step into the lace dress, all of the complicated worries and arguments are forgotten. It feels like it fits perfectly. Rory zips up the back and we both stare at my reflection in the long oval mirror perched on two wooden legs near the closet.
"Wow," she says at my shoulder. "This was made for you, Raya."
I nod, winged creatures erupting in my chest, and turn to glimpse the back. It’s sweet, fitting me to the waist and then draping elegantly to the floor.
"I wonder how much she wants for it."
"Who cares?" Rory says, and the awe in her voice makes giddy laughter flow from my chest.
When I turn back to admire the front again, an all-consuming peace settles around me. I wonder if Rory feels it. It’s a sense of calm that everything is just as it should be—it’s all falling into place.
"I love it," I sigh, running my fingers along the bodice and then gripping the skirt. "This is what I’m going to marry Alexander Mobius in."
