The Little Purple Dress

It was the first day of school and Mama was heavily pregnant with my little sister, Lucia, the last of our brood. Papa was away in the city, working downtown, even though he hadn’t wanted to go. Philip, Elizabeth, Molly, and I were at school. Mama wasn’t totally alone though, since we had our maids and butlers at home working as well. The maids were keeping close to Mama since she was due any day. We all knew Mama’s pregnancy was risky since she wasn’t as young as she used to be and she had had four children already. We had no idea Mama had gone into labor until we got home. Since I was young, it was my first day of school and I had no expectations. I thought it was amazing. I had worn my new purple dress that Mama had made for me, just for the occasion. Looking back now, that was the worst day of my life.

My older siblings and I had no idea Mama was in labor until we came home. When we did arrive home, the house was eerily quiet. There was no maid or butler to come gather our jackets or shoes. In fact, no one seemed to be home at all. We all shared a nervous look before we ascended the stairs to check on Mama, as it had become routine to check and see if little Lucia had come yet. We neared Mama and Papa’s room and could hear faint weeping. Philip opened the door and went in. Then Elizabeth, Molly, and I followed closely behind. We were all shocked at what we found.

Mama was laying on the bed, bloody and ashen. Her eyes were closed and she was so still it was almost like she wasn’t in this world. Like she was asleep and dreaming. There was a faint stench in the room, the stench of decay. All the maids and butlers were huddled around a small bundle. No one was paying Mama any attention. That’s when Elizabeth screamed. A piercing scream that broke the weight of the heavy silence in the house. Mama wasn’t breathing. Elizabeth’s scream was soon followed by Philip’s, Molly’s, and my own. And then little Lucia’s, for we had awoken her from her nap. The maids and butlers noticed us then, gathering us into their huddle, ignoring Mama on the bed. They consoled us the best they could and told us that Papa was on his way. We all fussed over Lucia trying to ignore Mama’s dead body a few feet behind us. Papa showed up a few minutes later and we left Mama on the bed, usure what to do. Papa brought us all to the parlor, little Lucia in his arms.

“Alright,” Papa said, his voice shaking a bit, “Even though we lost Mama, we didn’t lose Lucia and that’s what’s important.”

I didn’t know then that Papa was saying this to distract us from the fact that Mama was dead. He said these things not to tarnish the memory of Mama, but to make us think that Lucia was the most important thing in the whole world. To make us forget that Mama’s body lay just upstairs.

“I want you four to look after her this afternoon while I finish up some of my business work.” Papa left us then, with the maids and Lucia. She was smaller than I imagined, her eyes had yet to open. But when they did, they were just like Mama’s. My three older siblings and I have Papa’s eyes, the russet color of potatoes, so this was shock, though not unwelcome.

~~~

Lucia is five now, and is a spitting-image of Mama. Her eyes are the same sapphire hue as Mama’s were. She has Mama’s calm and collected mannerisms. She is always doing things that remind us of her. Lucia’s first day of school is tomorrow. She is the same age that I was when Mama died. Today is the anniversary of her death, but also Lucia’s birthday. This day is always hard, mourning Mama, while still celebrating Lucia. And I want her to wear the purple dress I wore on my first day of school.

“Lucia, come here!” I hollered up our grand staircase.

“Coming, Lyly!” I heard her shout back, her small voice echoing around our diamond chandelier as her light steps hurried down the hall. Her silly nickname for me, Lyly. She couldn’t pronounce Lydia when she was little and Lyly just stuck.

“I have a birthday present for you.” I say as her head poked over the railing. Her eyes light up and she runs down the stairs, almost tripping over her hem.

“Really? What is it? What is it? What is it?”

“She is so excited, I hope this won’t disappoint her,’ I thought nervously. “What if she doesn’t like it?”

“I have a dress for you to wear on your first day of school!” I try to not sound nervous. “It’s in my room. Would you like to see it?”

“Yay! A new dress!”

“It’s not new. It was mine when I was your age.” I don’t know if that is going to make her upset, but it seems it did the opposite.

“IT WAS YOURS? WOW!” I’m not sure why she is so excited. I would never want to wear one of Elizabeth’s or Molly’s dresses, but Lucia didn’t seem to care.

“Alright Love, let’s see if it fits.” We walk back up the stairs, I graze my hand on the polished railing, smooth and shiny from the lotions and oils Mama used to rub all over us. We pass all of our siblings rooms and get to mine at the end of the hall. I had insisted on this room when we moved in. Mama was still pregnant, our old house becoming too small for another child. It overlooks the main street where people are always walking past and looking too busy for their own good. Lucia tugs on my arm, pulling me out of my daydream.

“Lets go! I want to put it on!” Oh Lucia, always eager to try something new, especially clothing.

“Alright, alright.” I say trying not to laugh. We walk in to my room, the same as it was all those years ago. I never re-painted or re-decorated because Mama had helped me and I never want to forget her, or the way she had helped me position my bed to catch the morning sun. We walked into my closet, all the way to the back to where I keep all my clothes that I outgrew, for this exact purpose. So Lucia can have something that Mama had made. She was a seamstress and always sewed when she had the time. This little purple dress had been a surprise for me. The beads scratchy on the outside, but the inside made of silk smoother than fresh water. This dress was my favorite and I was heartbroken when it didn’t fit anymore. I have kept it for so long. So long, waiting for a purpose to use it.

“Lyly! Hurry up!” Lucia screeches, always thinking she was the most important; she’s not totally wrong though, we all spoil her more than we’ve spoiled anyone, ever.

“Why? Do you have somewhere important to go?”

“Yes. I am having a tea party in ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes? Wow, you are a busy little bumble bee,” I tease, hoping I was invited to gorge on plastic food and air. Pretending that I was eating the most delectable cake I’d ever tasted, chocolate and vanilla swirled together to make the perfect combination of sweetness and richness. With fresh strawberries to cut the candied taste  with their crisp zing of a summer day long forgotten.

“Where is it?” She demands, “I want to wear it to my tea party.”

“Okay, as long as you don’t get it dirty for school tomorrow. Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a surprise!”

“Oh, okay!” She closes her gorgeous eyes, shielding them from the unfamiliar dress about to be presented to her. I pulled the dress out from the storage rack with all the other dresses I used to wear. The fabric worn, but still so soft from the constant wear. I put it in her outstretched hands, waiting for her eyes to pop open. When they do, they are the most amazed I’ve ever seen them.

“Wow,” she whispers, in complete shock of the swirling beads and layers of tulle and fabric. “I didn’t know this many colors of purple existed,”

“Yeah, I know. I was amazed too the first time I saw it. It is gorgeous.”

“What does that mean, Gworgeeus?”

“Gorgeous? It means beautiful. Just like you.” Lucia beams, used to being doted on by our family.

“Can I put it on?” She is just as eager as ever as she rushed to slip it over her head.

“Of course.” As she pulls it on, tears came to my eyes, she looked absolutely radiant. “Do you like it?”

“I love it!” She rushed to my mirror, looking at herself as she twirled and spun to see how the dress would hold up while she was playing. “Would you like to come to my tea party?” She added on as she jumps around testing her flexibility.

“I would be happy to.” I have never been invited to one of the exclusive Lucia tea parties. “What should I wear?”

“That is fine, we have hurry to get there before everyone else.”

“Who else is coming?”

“Philip, Elizabeth, Molly, Papa, you, me.”

“Everyone?” She had never invited any of us to a tea party before.

“Yeah, I decided that I was too lonely even with my teddies.”

“Okay Love, lead the way.”

~~~

We walk into Lucia’s room, the afternoon sun shining in on her set up. It was like she had been preparing all day, and she had to have had help from the maids, because there is a huge blanket spread out on the floor with actual food spread out with, of course, tea. There are six spots with a plate and a fork arranged for everyone. A bouquet of fresh flower stands proudly in the middle of the blanket, sending off an aroma that fills the room with a sweet smell of new spring, right after the snow has melted. This is so something Mama would have done. She loved to plan spontaneous tea parties or picnics.

There is a knock at the door, the typical one-two-threefourfive of our family code so we know that it is one of us knocking, not a maid.

“Come in!” Lucia says, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Philip, Elizabeth, Molly, and Papa walked in, right on time.

“Happy Birthday!” They all cheered in unison.

“Wow Lucia, did Lydia help you set up?” Elizabeth asks, always the first to notice things. The polar opposite of her twin, Molly. Molly is always daydreaming and never really knows what to say or when to say it. Elizabeth, on the other hand, does. She knows how to spin her words so that anyone will agree with her and tends to do the talking for the both of them.

“Nope! I did it all by myself. Although the maids helped me a little.”

“Aha! Just what I thought!”  I think to myself, surprised that I was right.

“That dress was Lydia’s, wasn’t it Lucia?” Papa inquires, knowing exactly which dress it was.

“Yeah! She gave it to me for my birthday!”

“Can we eat, please?” Philip asks, always hungry, as every teenage boy is. As the oldest child in the house, he has to be sort of composed when at any social event, like a ball or dinner. But when he is at home with us, he lets loose of all the stereotypes. He is as goofy as Papa is, never taking anything too seriously.

“Did you all wash your hands?” Lucia asks, again sounding exactly like Mama and takes control of the situation. “I don’t want dirt in my cake.”

“Yes we did!” Papa exclaims, laughing as he does so, even though they probably didn’t. He takes things lightly and isn’t as strict as Mama was. No, not strict. Mama wasn’t mean, she was --- nice strict. She made sure we did what we were supposed to, but was never mean about it. Papa, though, he takes life with a grain of salt. Flourishing about like everything is absolutely perfect.

“Alright, I guess we can eat now,” Lucia says, sounding a little apprehensive about whether her tea party would be good enough for us all. Maybe that was why she never asked us to come, because she was afraid of disappointing us and not living up to the standards we set for her since she was so much like Mama. We all miss her so much and I think we cling to Lucia and spoil her because she does look and act so much like Mama. I’m not sure if it is fair for her to be held to this standard, being only five years old, but we need a reassurance that Mama isn’t totally gone and that she still lives on in Lucia.

“Then let’s eat!” Philip says, diving into the chocolate cake with frosting letters that spell out Happy Birthday Lucia, “This looks so good!” It is just like Philip to skip over the main meal and go straight to dessert. No one cares, though. At least, not today, not when Mama has been dead for 5 years. Not when today is a special day for Lucia, her fifth birthday. She never knew Mama, so this day has always been about her, not the unknown woman who happened to give birth to her.

“This tea tastes just like the tropics!” Molly blurts, pulling me back to reality with her random exclamation. We are the only group of people she really feels comfortable talking to. At balls and dinners she secludes into herself and lets Elizabeth speak for her. She lets everyone else do the dancing and mingling. When we retreat back to our parlor to meet after the night is over, she vents about how awful the event was and how no one would ask her to dance or try to talk to her. I think she says this to try to make up for the fact that she doesn’t actually want to talk to people and dismisses them before they can introduce themselves. Discrediting them before they have a chance to speak. “I’ve never had anything like it! Where did you get this, Lucia?”

“I don’t know. The maids got it for me. I just asked for good tea since I don’t know how to tell if tea is good or not.” Lucia responds, slightly taken aback at her abrupt comment.

“Hmm, I’ll have to ask.”

“I have to say, this is the best tea party I’ve been to.” Papa says, clearly trying to lead the conversation back to Lucia’s birthday and her special day.

“Thank you, Papa. I tried to make it extra special today, I know what today is.”

“Your birthday!”

“And Mama’s death day.” There. Someone had said it out loud. Every year we all try to ignore it and focus on Lucia. Focus on the light, not the dark. A tear escapes from my eye, the traitorous thing. Lucia scurries over to hug me. Then it became a huge family hug with everyone crying. No one wanting to let go.

“Well,” Papa sniffles, “I guess it’s time for presents.” We all laugh quietly, not wanting to leave each others arms. I peel away first, ready to have fun, ready to be rid of the sadness this day always brings.

“How many are there?” Lucia says, interrupting the somber mood with her question thinking only about herself. But it’s her day. Today everything gets to be all about her.

“I didn’t count, but I know you’ll be happy no matter what,” I say, “I know you love my present to you.”

“I do! And I know I’ll love them all!”

“I’m not sure if we can beat Lydia’s gift,” Elizabeth says to Philip and Molly, “I think we’ve already lost.”

“Yeah.” Molly agrees, following her twin’s lead, as usual.

“We’ll see,” Philip says boldly, “I think mine is better.”

“How could you beat giving Lucia a new dress? That’s all she likes!”

“Well, I think you just don’t know her as well as I do.”

Our pack moves downstairs, to the parlor, ready to spoil Lucia even more. To the parlor, where we will give her more than we had ever gotten, because she deserves more. So much more.