Fall, 1957

I sang along to the radio, car windows rolled down, and tapped my fingers on the steering wheel.

“Well, that’ll be the day when you say goodbye ye-e-es that’ll be the day when you make me cry-y...”

It was a while yet before I had to leave the highway to get to campus, so I was letting myself indulge in this one thing on my drive. On my own like this, I could do what I wanted.

I had to admit I was a little anxious about starting university, but mostly I was just excited; there would be new places, new people, and new things to learn. I’d never had that many new things at once in my whole life! It wasn’t a very long journey from Granby, but it was far enough to be unfamiliar and for me to feel truly left to my own devices.

The radio DJ followed Buddy’s song with a song I didn’t like, so I turned down the car radio and started to pay closer attention to my surroundings as I caught a glimpse of my upcoming exit. I handled the turn-off with ease, doing my dad proud with my smooth maneuver, and followed the road until I got to the building where I would be living for the next eight months.

I took a few seconds to fix my short hair – something else new – in the rearview mirror before I got out of the car. I dragged my meager belongings up the stairs of the residence and down the hall to my room. My roommate, another woman my age, was hanging up her clothes. She was dressed fairly normally for moving in on a warm day – capri pants and a loose blouse – except for the fact that her top was a bright, royal blue.

“Oh, hello,” I said, setting my suitcase down on the floor. “You must be Ellen.”

“How do you do?” she said, nodding.

“I’m Judith,” I replied, extending my hand to shake hers. “How do you do?”

“Fine, thank you,” she replied. “Do you need some help with unpacking?” She gestured towards my suitcase.

“Oh,” I said with a shrug. “Sure. Thanks.”

Ellen helped me to organize my clothes in the closet arrangement, then we chose beds, with mine the closest to the door. After that, it took us half an hour just to arrange my records on my shelf. I couldn’t stop myself from telling Ellen what I liked about each of them – especially the Buddy Holly ones – as I placed them. By the time all of that was finished, we were ready for dinner. Before we headed out, Ellen changed into a whirl skirt and a big hat that matched her top, elevating it into an ensemble that you’d expect only to see at a fancy shindig. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of admiration at how grand she looked. Just from what she wore, she seemed to embrace a confidence that I’d never seen someone have through clothes before, certainly never experienced myself. Suddenly this ordinary world seemed extraordinary, filled with more possibilities than I had ever known. Once dressed, she headed for the door, but instead of walking out to the hallway she pushed the door aside to reveal a full-length mirror leaning against the wall.

“Did you bring that?” I asked as she looked at her reflection and adjusted her hat.

“I sure did!” Ellen replied.

“How did you fit it in your car?”

“Believe me, it wasn’t easy,” she said, “but I’ve got to have it. The world’s a stage, right? This is my dressing room.”

I nodded, intrigued by what she meant, but unsure if I really understood.

Once ready, we left campus and walked around town until we found a diner. We sat down in a booth and ordered some comfort food – greasy burgers and fries. While we waited, we exchanged the typical new school questions about what we were studying and where we were from.

When the food arrived, Ellen raised her glass of water.

“To new beginnings!” Clink.

#

Ellen and I weren’t in any of the same classes, but we spent a lot of time together. We started acquiring things from each other by osmosis. For me, it was a stronger interest in bold fashion. I borrowed her hat from our first dinner and wore it to class one day, an accent of bright colour in an otherwise neutral outfit I’d put together. It was fun to learn to balance the hat on my head, and wearing it I felt delightfully removed from how an ordinary student usually looked. Definitely not my ordinary self. Josephine, who sat next to me in one of my classes, had asked, “Going to Ascot?”

From me, Ellen gained a love of Buddy Holly. Whenever his songs came on the radio in the car we would sing along, and in our room, we would dance to my records like schoolgirls. Ellen’s favourite dance move was to flap her hands on her chest, miming heart beats while puckering her lips, singing “pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty Peggy Sue.” Ellen was involved in the drama department’s productions, so she loved playing up the theatricality of her movements. I wasn’t so good at it myself, but with her I felt free to try.

We were hanging around the costume shop at the theater, looking through the old costumes for something to wear to a Halloween party when we got the idea. Ellen had found a dress from a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and decided to go as a fairy queen. She was now idly looking through a collection of glasses, most of them without lenses, while I tried – so far unsuccessfully – to come up with something for myself.

“Get a load of these!” she exclaimed all of a sudden. She was looking at a pair of black horn-rimmed frames. She held them out to me and said excitedly, “Put them on! Put them on!”

“There’s no guarantee they’ll fit, but let’s see,” I said as I took them. But they did fit; they weren’t too tight, nor did they slip when I moved my head. “Well, do I look silly?”

Ellen didn’t answer my question. Instead, she turned to look around the room with a gear-churning expression. “I wonder where they keep suit jackets…”

She went over to a rack and started looking through it. She eyeballed me before pulling a few jackets. I tried on a black one with absurdly long sleeves, then a blue one that fit too long everywhere, but when I got to the last one, a grey one, I found a match. Ellen led me to a mirror so I could take a look.

When I saw my reflection, I couldn’t stop myself from grinning. It was as if all my life I had been sitting in darkness and someone had finally turned on a light.

“I think we’ve found your costume for the party,” Ellen said.

“Buddy Holly,” I said, still beaming.

I was in a cloud of happiness as Ellen and I scoured the costume shop for a pair of pants, a shirt, and a good necktie.

“I hope they have a green one,” Ellen said as we looked. “I think green is your colour.”

We didn’t find one, which annoyed Ellen, so we went with a nice rich navy, and soon we were heading back to our room with our costumes and anticipation for a party that was still over a week away.

#

“I think it’s good enough, now,” I said to Ellen, reaching one hand up between my head and the comb Ellen was brandishing. “You still haven’t started on your own costume.”

“I want to get it just right,” she insisted, gently pushing my hand away.

“Last time I checked, I don’t have the same haircut as Buddy, so it’s never going to be just right. Besides, I think it already looks good.”

We had spent the last twenty minutes putting grease in my hair and trying to arrange it on my head to more closely resemble Buddy Holly’s. The fact that I had natural curls like his, cut fairly short, was enough for me, but Ellen wanted to perfect my look. I was appreciative of her help, but it was time to give up and accept that we had done all we could.

“Oh, all right,” Ellen said, checking my head quickly one more time before going to the closet to get her dress. While she did that, I went over to my bed, where I had laid out my suit. As I got to the end of the process of putting it on, I was giddy to finally see how the full ensemble looked.

“You look so good, Judith!” Ellen exclaimed when she got a glimpse of me.

“You do, too!” I replied, admiring the colourful, flowing dress she had on. “Enchanting!” Ellen waved her hands as if she were casting a spell.

When I was fully dressed, I grabbed the glasses and walked over to the mirror behind the door. That same feeling from before came back. I was so glad we had come up with this idea, and for Ellen’s assistance with the comb. I turned to see myself from all sides and adjusted my tie. After a moment, Ellen appeared behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder.  

“Look at us,” I exclaimed through my grin.

“Happy?” she asked. I simply nodded. I took one more moment to look in the mirror and then we were off.

The sun was already going down and I couldn’t help but wonder if, in the dwindling light and from a distance, anyone would think Buddy Holly was in town. Not on Halloween night, maybe, but still I wondered. I hoped I’d cast my usual image off and looked like a convincing man.

When we arrived at the house, Ellen knocked on the door and looked at me excitedly.

“Showtime!” she exclaimed.

 A man Ellen knew from the drama department answered the door dressed as Elvis Presley, complete with pink shirt.

“Who have we here?” he asked, trying to mimic Elvis’s accent as he checked out our costumes. “A fairy queen…And Buddy Holly himself! Wonderful!”

He led us in and we were met by a living room crowded with ghosts, vampires, and other colourful characters. I was hungry after all of our preparations, so I immediately made my way to the snack table where the hosts had set out hors d’oeuvres, cake, and candy.

“Hi, Buddy Holly,” someone next to me said. It was Josephine.

“Howdy, partner,” I said, noticing her cowgirl costume. She didn’t seem to realize who I was.

“What do you study here, Buddy?” she asked, then chuckled. “I doubt you need a music degree!”

“Liberal arts,” I replied. 

“Me, too,” she said. “Who would have thought?”

“Well, you never know what might come in handy down the line,” I joked. “If my music career doesn’t work out, I can teach philosophy.”

“Maybe I’ll see you in class.”

“I think you will,” I said, taking off my glasses. Her surprise was priceless.

“Judith!” 

I nodded, pleased. 

“I didn’t recognize you!”

“Yes, I noticed. I’m glad. I knew I wouldn’t be able to tell until I came here how convincing I look.” I put the glasses back on to free my hands for eating. “Now I’ve got my answer.”

“Well, it’s a great costume! Very different from the big green hat and matching blouse you wore to class the other day,” Josephine said, referring to what I had borrowed from Ellen. “Strangely, it suits you.” 

Her words made my heart beat a little faster.

“Thank you,” I said. “Let’s go see who else I can fool.”

Everyone exclaimed “Buddy Holly!” as they saw me. I stayed at the party much longer than I ever intended, having fun pretending I had transformed and really was Buddy. Someone produced a guitar and convinced me to sing a few bars of “Peggy Sue,” though I couldn’t make my voice sound much like his. When we left, I ended up practically carrying tipsy Ellen back to our room.

“What a gentleman,” she said drowsily as I carefully lay her down on her bed and helped her out of her shoes.

I felt a little sad that the night was over as I took my costume off and put it away, but I was glad it had gone over so well. It had been absolutely electric.

Getting dressed the next morning felt like a disappointment after Halloween, especially since it was a Friday and I had to go to class, too. I put on my favourite pair of plaid slacks, but the sweater I paired with it didn’t seem to fit as well as I recalled. I fiddled with it in front of the mirror, trying to get it to hang right, but it just looked wrong on my body. And something was missing.

“You look fine, that sweater’s so nice on you,” Ellen said, waving her hand before stifling a yawn. “We’ve got to get to the dining hall, now, or I’m going to be late.”

She had a point. I grabbed my things and we rushed out the door.

At my own class later that morning, we were all talking about the fun we had had on Halloween. But everyone seemed much less disappointed to be getting back to normal life, whereas I felt as if I had discovered my favourite food and then been forbidden it after only one bite.

#

Early November became late November and the weather got colder. Ellen had returned her fairy queen dress to the costume shop long ago, but I had kept my costume, lying that I had already brought it back. Instead, it was sitting neatly in a garment bag under my bed. I knew it was not really mine, but I froze every time I’d tried to get it out. I didn’t think anyone noticed. The costume shop was full of so many other things. 

That month had been busy school-wise and exciting otherwise, with the release of the album The “Chirping” Crickets, which soon played on the turntable in our room more days than it didn’t. This all culminated when, on December the first, Buddy Holly appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show. The guys who threw the Halloween party had a TV and let Ellen and me come over to watch with them.

They teased me afterwards that my eyes were glued to the screen the whole time Buddy and the Crickets performed. And I believed them. I was captivated by him; he wasn’t showy in an over-the-top way, but all the same there was an amazing energy to him that kept me from looking away for even a moment. The way he looked on screen, I could feel that he was behind every word and strum of the guitar, that there was nothing else he would rather do in that moment. He was so free and full of joy. From that night on, I pictured him just as he appeared on T.V. whenever I listened to his records.

But there was something else on my mind, too, that had excited me just as much even though I couldn’t tell them. It was that same thing I felt when we first got the idea in the costume shop over a month earlier. Looking at Buddy, I saw how I wanted to look and dress and be. Not just pretend, but for real.

I knew that if I went out dressed like Buddy, I would be wearing what everyone else I knew saw as a costume. That was how I’d worn that outfit before: not as myself, but as a disguise, though I no longer wanted it to be. I would stare at the record sleeve depicting Buddy and his band in matching grey suits, resembling what I had worn as a costume and wanted to wear again. I had picked up the French term for a suit, “costume d’homme,” in one of my elective courses. It had been a costume for me; perhaps, in a sense, it was for men, too. So why shouldn’t I be able to wear it, like they do?

For the entire month of November, the suit’s presence weighed on my mind as I kept it in its hiding place, and so on the Monday after the Ed Sullivan Show, I finally decided to do what I had been thinking about for so long. After coming back from breakfast at the dining hall that morning, I threw off my usual garments and pulled the suit out from under my bed. I hid the glasses under the socks in my dresser drawer and set to work. I left my hair as it already was, for any modification to it had been part of my costume, but I put on the suit exactly as I had before. When that was done, I took a quick look in the mirror. I was a little nervous, but the joy at seeing my reflection was stronger than my apprehension.

I got to class when I usually did, not very early but not late. There were a few students who had arrived already talking amongst themselves, but there were still more to come.

I tried not to look anyone’s way as I entered the classroom, but I could hear their conversations halt, followed by a few whispers – whispers they assumed I couldn’t hear. Or perhaps they had wanted me to hear them. I could picture them with forked tongues. One thing I knew for a fact was that many of them were at the party and had paid me compliments that night. I caught one flash of a stare, but I looked away as quickly as I could. I was not surprised by their reactions, so I tried not to mind it.

“Halloween’s over,” someone finally said, projecting their voice across the room, announcing what I had feared. I didn’t dare let my head turn in their direction. I only moved when I saw someone coming in the door.

“Hello, Josephine!” I said with my usual cheer, relieved to finally see a friend and wanting to seem as though I didn’t care about the comment.

“Hi, Judith,” she said, just as she normally did, shrugging off her grey wool coat and taking the seat next to mine. “What’s the occasion?” She looked at my clothes with uncomplicated curiosity. It was true, most students didn’t come to class in a full suit and tie. I felt a little lighter.

“Life,” I replied, “is the occasion.”

“A very worthy one, indeed,” Josephine said with a smile.

Our professor got the class to be quiet when he arrived. His eyes seemed to catch on me as he surveyed the room, but he made no remark. Things went so usually that I was reassured my idea had been a success after all.

“See you later, gator,” Josephine said as she rushed off to her next class. I didn’t move at her pace since my next class wasn’t as far away as hers. As I packed up my things, I noticed a couple guys in the class watching me. I had glimpsed them at the Halloween party, but they didn’t speak in class much so I couldn’t remember their names. I didn’t acknowledge them, even when they got up from their seats at the same time as I did.

I lost track of them when I got to the hallway, noisy with students’ chatter. But I had only walked a few paces when I suddenly heard the squeaking of shoes against the floor rapidly approaching me. In a moment, two hands came around from behind me and landed squarely on my chest. Then there was laughter.

He took his hands away and ran past me with his friend.

“Just wanted to see if you really were a girl!” he called out to me before the two of them disappeared down the hallway, their laughter echoing off the walls as they went.

It was over in a few seconds, but like a drop of water in a pond I could still feel its ripples like a shockwave inside of me. I walked slowly, not wanting to risk catching up to them, and becoming even more shattered than I already felt. Once my next class started, I took notes unthinkingly, an airplane on automatic pilot. My mind was busy reeling, replaying the pain of what had happened in the hallway over and over again. I tried to figure out how I could have changed this and prevented it from happening. But it was all so fast. I then jumped back to when Ellen and I came up with everything. I wondered whether this all had been a mistake from the beginning, but I couldn’t completely convince myself that it was. Until now, it had made me so happy.

When class was finished, I hurried home, not stopping until I was inside, and collapsed on my bed. I wanted to cry after holding back the tears for hours, but they didn’t come, so I just lay there with my face buried in the pillow until Ellen came home.

“Judith? What’s going on? What are you wear –”

I rolled over, knowing I had just revealed to her that I never returned the suit to the costume shop. I worried about that for a moment, but Ellen didn’t dwell on it.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, kneeling down by the bed. I tried to find the words, but I couldn’t. That was when I finally cried. Ellen stroked my hair until I could manage to speak.

“Some people were whispering before class,” I said between sobs. “One of them told me it wasn’t Halloween, as if I didn’t already know.”

Ellen didn’t say anything. She just watched me as I kept explaining.

“Two guys,” I continued, getting angry, “followed me as I was leaving class. Then, when I was walking down the hallway . . . one of them came up behind me, touched my br . . . said he wanted to check to see if I’m a girl.”

“I see,” Ellen said calmly. “So that’s it.”

“I love wearing this suit. I was feeling pretty good until all of that. Even the whispering wasn’t so bad until . . . after.”

Ellen sighed deeply and shook her head.

“I don’t know what you were expecting to happen, going out like that,” she said. “You must have known you wouldn’t be able to do it unnoticed, that you would get attention and that it wouldn’t all be good. It’s just not how girls dress.” She gestured at me to further prove her point.

“What are you saying?” I asked angrily, sitting up. Of all the people I knew, Ellen was the last person I expected to say such things. “Are you saying I asked for this? This was your idea, as I recall.”

“It wasn’t my idea for you to wear a Halloween costume to class! You thought of that half-baked notion on your own.”

“Only because the idea of me wearing this suit was such a good one: too good to relegate to a single night in the whole year. Just look at how well it fits me!”

I got up from the bed to show her – no, to remind her. I did a turn so that she could see it from all angles. 

“And just so you know,” I added, “it wasn’t half-baked. I thought about it for weeks before I built up the nerve to wear it to class.”

“It was a waste of nerve.”

“Some would say the same thing about most of the clothes you wear,” I said, gesturing to what she had on that day: a bright blue tailored dress we had picked out together at a shop in town. “They would say it’s not worth wearing such nice things to class. And such a bold colour!”

“That’s hardly the same thing,” Ellen retorted. “And you know it.”

“Isn’t it?”

I felt just a little victorious when Ellen said nothing and could only stand there. But only for a moment.

I padded over the few steps to my dresser and took out a folded-up pair of slacks and a top. I laid them out on the bed before I began to unbutton my jacket and shirt.

“What are you doing?” Ellen asked.

“What does it look like?” I answered dryly.

Ellen didn’t say any more as I changed out of the suit into more acceptable clothes. When that was done, I dug the horn-rimmed glasses out of my sock drawer, tucked them inside the jacket pocket, folded the suit up, and placed everything in a bag. I grabbed my room keys from my bedside table, threw on my coat, and headed for the door.

“If you’re going to the costume shop,” Ellen said, “let me come with you.”

“You’ve done quite enough, already,” I replied, pushing Ellen aside. I closed the door behind me and walked determinedly down the hall, out the front door, and towards the theatre. I should have known that this would happen, eventually. This was how it was supposed to be.

It was evening, but I knew the costume shop would still be open. There was a play opening in a week and things were always busy before a production. Then again, there was always a production on the way, so it was always busy. 

Two students were working on a costume fitting when I walked in and they looked a little startled when I barged in.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m just returning this. I should have done it a long time ago.”

I took the suit out of the bag and placed it on some free space on one of the tables strewn with fabric.

“Thank you for letting me borrow this,” I said sadly, avoiding eye contact, afraid I would embarrass myself if I did. “I loved it.”

I left the theatre without another word. I heard someone mutter they’d been looking for that navy tie, but I cast my gaze towards my feet as I walked the familiar path back towards home. How could I have been so silly? Ellen was right. It was unreasonable of me to think I could do what I had done. That wasn’t how the world worked. My eyes burned as the thoughts repeated again and again.

I was wrenched from them when a pair of arms pulled me from behind into a tight hug. 

“What-cha up to, Judith?”

I recognized the voice and the wool coat sleeves wrapped around me.

“Hi, Josephine,” I sighed, gently prying myself from her arms and turning around to face her. “I was at the costume shop returning that suit.”

“Really?” Josephine asked in concern. “Why?”

“It wasn’t ever mine to begin with,” I said. “I had to give it back. I should have done it before; it would have saved me a lot of grief.”

“All that whispering?” she asked. 

“That and more,” I said. I explained to her everything that had happened after she left the classroom.

“I see,” she said solemnly. I expected her to ask me questions or make accusations like Ellen did – I was convinced that would have been the logical response – but all she added was, “I’ll walk you home.”

She linked her arm with mine and we continued down the path. As we reached the residence building, white flakes began to float down from the sky. We both looked up to watch them fall.

“The first snow,” I said, letting myself cheer up just a little bit. “It means a new season is coming.”

“Yes, I guess it does,” Josephine said, but it seemed as though part of her mind was elsewhere until she lowered her head back down to me. “Will you be alright if I leave you here?”

I nodded and got out the key to unlock the outer door of the building. Josephine said goodbye and then started going back in the same direction. I stood in the doorway and watched her go. At first, she stood out, but then her grey coat seemed to disappear into the pavement and the snow. When she was gone, I turned to walk down the hall to my room. Back to the grim reality.

#

As the week passed, I forced myself to go to my classes. I put together outfits in the mornings without much thought. I knew I looked all right, in fact these were things I used to wear very happily, but hardly found it in me to care one way or another. I figured that, perhaps, the way to deal with the disappointments of life was to try not to care. It’s best not to dwell on what you will never have.

The next Monday morning, instead of having breakfast promptly with Ellen before her early class, I decided to stay in bed. What was the point of rushing around? It was the last week before final exams, anyway. 

When she was gone, I tried my best to get some more sleep, but I was interrupted by a knock on the door. I groggily got up and opened it. It was Josephine. I figured it must have been an especially cold day, because she had her coat buttoned tightly up to her neck. She was also carrying a bag with something wrapped in paper inside of it.

“Good morning, Judith!” she said cheerily. “I brought you something.”

“Why?” I asked, already taking the bag as she placed it in my hand.

“Just open it,” Josephine said.

I turned and placed the bag on the bed, then took the parcel out. When I unwrapped it, I had to blink a few times to make sure my eyes weren’t deceiving me.

Neatly folded inside the paper was a grey suit and crisp white shirt, a tie threaded under the collar. 

“Consider it an early Christmas present,” she said. “Come on, let’s see it on you.”

“Is this the suit from the costume shop?” I asked.

“Nope! This one is all yours,” she explained, sounding quite proud of herself and excited for me to know all the details. “In between things for the upcoming production, I worked with some other people at the costume shop. We took all the measurements of the original and made this suit just for you. Rush order.”

I was in disbelief, but I felt an instant magnetism with the gift in my hands. I started unfolding the suit and putting it on straight away. When I felt the familiar fabric against my skin, it was like eating a good meal after days of starvation.

As I finished dressing, I noticed Josephine had unbuttoned her coat. She was wearing one of the suits from the costume shop, one that had been too big for me. Josephine herself was swimming in it, but it didn’t seem to bother her. She was busy looking at my record collection. She held up the Crickets album, smiling at me.

“You look just like them!” she said before putting the record down to help me straighten my tie. 

“Why’d you get a suit for yourself?” I asked.  “I know it’s not really your thing.”

“Well, I hadn’t considered it before,” she said. “But I can’t say I don’t like it, now that I’ve tried it for myself.”

Dressed, I turned and looked at the two of us in the mirror. I was scared to be seen again, but I still got that good feeling from the first day. The feeling that said this was the right thing for me to do.

“Have you had breakfast?” Josephine asked as we went out the door.

“No,” I said, my stomach gurgling as if it had heard her and wanted to answer her question itself. As we walked along, she produced from her book bag two fresh bagels from the dining hall, already toasted and slathered in peanut butter.

“How did you keep them from making a mess all over everything in there?” I asked.

“A lady never reveals her secrets.”

I laughed as we walked along and ate our breakfast.

As soon as we entered the classroom, I could feel the eyes on us as the whispers crashed into my ears like a tidal wave. I kept my gaze trained on the floor. The whispers were starting again. I tried to walk, but my legs froze.

Then I felt Josephine’s hand on my back, between my shoulder blades. I turned to her. She was looking straight ahead. I lifted my head and walked on. The first person I made eye contact with shifted his gaze and looked away when I caught him staring. As I walked to my seat, I looked at somebody else, who stopped whispering to her friend when I noticed her. As I glanced around, another person looked away, and then another, and another. The room was much quieter when Josephine and I finally sat down.

The lecture was uneventful. When it was time to leave, one of the guys in the class stood near us and watched, then walked behind us when we started to leave. As we made our way down the hall, I kept looking behind me to see if he was still following us, but he stayed at a distance, focused on a conversation with a friend. 

Josephine and I had to go separate ways to our respective classes, but I didn’t feel so scared anymore. I knew, then, why she had done all of this.

Josephine and I met at the dining hall for dinner, after I had spent the day purposefully avoiding going anywhere else I might run into Ellen. But even as I avoided Ellen, I still wished for something to happen so that she would see me. I knew Ellen wouldn’t be back for a while, so I brought Josephine back to our room.

I fired up the turntable and put on my “Peggy Sue” record. I grabbed Josephine’s hands and started to dance. She smiled, just managing to keep up with me. She had good rhythm, but her movements were plain. I wasn’t sure she was enjoying it, but I just tried to be glad it was happening at all. Gradually, the song whisked me away. When it got to “pretty, pretty Peggy Sue,” I puckered my lips and patted my chest, but instead of joining in, Josephine started to laugh. I forgot where I was in the song and stopped. It’s true, it was silly, but I had forgotten that Josephine wouldn’t know the routine. She had done so much for me today, but she wasn’t my best friend. She wasn’t Ellen.

As if my thoughts conjured her presence, Ellen appeared in the doorway. She clutched the textbook she had been studying for her first exam, but was dressed like she was about to go to a society party, her red coat matching her dress. A sight for sore eyes, even though she looked surprised and said nothing. Josephine asked me if I wanted her to stay, but I told her to go.

“I thought you’d returned it,” Ellen finally said when we were alone, placing her book on her desk and sitting down.

“I did,” I said, only making brief eye contact as I walked over to my desk to start my own studying.

“Ha ha,” she said sarcastically. “You did return it. But then you took it again. I get it.”

“No, you don’t,” I explained. “It’s still at the theatre. This isn’t it.”

“You’d never find another suit that fits you like that one did.”

“I didn’t have to find it.”

“And how is that?” I turned away from my desk to face Ellen. She was glaring at me.

“A lady never reveals her secrets.”

Ellen snorted. “Some lady you are!”

“Well, I believe you did once call me a gentleman.”

I thought I caught a glimpse of a grin on Ellen’s face as she went back to her reading. I turned back around and opened up my notes. 

The next morning, Ellen was watching me as I dressed.

“Now, that’s more normal,” she commented as I put on one of my sweaters over my slacks. I smirked at her as I threw on the suit jacket on top of it.

“We both know neither of us wants to dress normally,” I said, referring to her brightly-patterned dress and hat before I walked out the door.

#

I did my best to avoid Ellen as exams passed by, not wanting to put up with her judgement. But even though I tried to focus on studying, I found myself feeling increasingly lonely. I missed the trips into town. I missed dancing. Still, I continued my avoidance, but Ellen didn’t respond in kind.

“Want to review with me?” she asked one day. 

“No, thanks,” I replied, grabbing my books before heading to the library by myself.

Another day, she tried another tactic. “I need a break from all these books. Let’s go to that boutique in town. We haven’t been in a long time.”

I really did want to go. Her hostility seemed to be fading; she said she wanted to be with me, which I wanted. But I wasn’t going to give that hostility a chance to come back, especially somewhere where clothes were concerned, so I declined and kept staying out of our room as much as possible.

When I came back from an exam the next day, I was greeted by the sound of Buddy Holly’s voice singing out of the turntable.

“One lonely night . . . at this drive-in . . . Now I know . . . what a fool I’ve been.”

It was strange; Ellen usually made sure to turn off everything – record player, lights – before she left the room. I barely finished that thought when Ellen appeared from around the corner. She was holding a red parcel in her hand.

“I thought you’d left for Christmas break,” I said.

“I don’t leave until tomorrow,” she replied. “Besides, I have to give you this.”

She placed the parcel in my hands. I just stared at it for a moment. She watched me expectantly. I tore the paper, revealing a note.

I’m sorry I didn’t understand before. I never wanted to hurt you. I still think green is your colour. Merry Christmas. 

Love, Ellen

Inside the parcel was a vivid green tie. The material felt soft between my fingers. As I looked at the tie and felt it in my hands, I pictured Ellen meticulously browsing the selection at a store in town to pick out just the right one, like she did that day back in October at the costume shop. 

“May I?” she asked, reaching out her hand. I passed her the tie and she threaded it under my shirt collar, looping it around into a knot and adjusting it under my chin. 

“How do I look?” I asked.

“Perfect,” she said.

When she finished with the tie, she started adjusting my jacket, feeling where the material hung loose in relation to my body.

“Too bad I’ve already packed my sewing kit,” she said. “The jacket needs to be taken in here.”

“They made this suit for me, just like the one I had on before that fit me so well.”

“It fits you well, but it still needs adjusting,” she said matter-of-factly. “We’ll have to do that after Christmas. You deserve a suit that fits perfectly.”

“I look forward to it,” I said. “I wouldn’t trust the tailoring with anyone but you.” The world’s balance had been restored, being with Ellen properly again, finally getting back to what we loved doing together. It felt natural, and without needing to think I walked over to her closet and pulled out the green blouse I’d once borrowed that was a similar shade as the tie. “And then we’ll march across campus, me in my suit and you in this, daring anyone to look away. We won’t care if they don’t. And after that we’ll head into town arm in arm, belting Buddy Holly at the top of our lungs.”

Ellen laughed, the warm laugh from when we listened to records. 

“How silly!” she exclaimed. “How grand! I love that idea.”

About the Author

Katharine Mussellam is a writer and cinephile from Markham, Ontario, Canada. Her writing has appeared in The Mitre, Versification, Jump Cut, and Anime Feminist. Chat with her on Twitter: @KVMwrites.