Nostalgia - Chapter 4 (Part 1 of 2)

Words: 908. 

Nostalgia was the same when Cora returned. The dresses hung in their exact same spots and the refreshing summer scent smelled as sweet as ever. There was not even a need for Cora to hunt down the dresses she had picked out earlier; they hung slightly lopsided in the change room, just the way she had left them. It was if the store had been frozen in time, waiting.

Cora no longer felt inclined to try on the long lilac gown she had been interested in a few days before. When she looked at it again, it no longer held charm as an innocent, slightly old-fashioned item. Instead, it was a frumpy violet with awkward, jewelled hemming. Perhaps, subconsciously, it was Cora’s rekindled fantasies of a romance with Cadogan Sage that now urged her to approach one of the dresses hiding in the back of her selection – a pink and white plaid, cap-sleeved, cotton dress that reached to just above the knees. Quickly removing her own, now seemingly average, blue and white polka-dotted item, Cora eagerly zipped herself into the new dress. After tying the sash in the back, she looked up into the mirror.

It was stunning. She wasn’t stunning, but the dress was. The dress made everything, from gathering perfectly at the waist to complimenting her pale skin tone. Cora felt like a nineteen-fifties style Alice in Wonderland. But what’s a dress if it doesn’t twirl? Closing her eyes, black lashes lining her lids like minute feather, Cora began to spin. She felt the skirt, made of stiff cotton, balloon out and slightly graze her hands – a most delicate touch. She kept twirling and twirling, lost in her whimsical dance. And then tripped on her feet and tumbled to the ground. Her eyes flew open.

She was not in the change room.

Cora was sitting on a blue cloth that was set on the side of a lush, grassy hill. An array of picnic foods were laid out: fresh bread, gooey camembert, thick slices of comte, garlicky green olives, shocking red slices of tomato, ripe avocado, swirled hummus, prosciutto as thin as tissue paper, jello salad with thin slices of carrot, blackberries that oozed purple stains, peaches that when rubbed against your skin felt like a soft, bearded embrace. Two plates and appropriate silverware were set, one in front of Cora and the other directly opposite. Crystal goblets full of refreshingly irresistible Bordeaux white wine twinkled in the hot sun’s afternoon rays.

Looking around, Cora noticed that she was seated on the side of the hill, in a meadow intermittently dotted with majestic oaks and absolutely covered in lupins and yarrow. Fat bumblebees buzzed lazily from flower to flower, running their afternoon errands. For a second, Cora was fearful: she was alone and she didn’t know where she was or how she had gotten here. But scanning the horizon, she noticed a young man, dressed smartly in navy blue trousers and a white button-up shirt with cuffed sleeves, walking purposefully towards her. As he approached, Cora could not help but remark that he looked very much like Cadogan, with soft, wispy hair and a thin build. Even his demeanour, which emanated cheerfully yet quietly from his being, was akin to Cadogan’s.

But he was not Cadogan because when he opened his mouth, he said, “I’m back, but there were no serviettes in the truck! I seem to have forgotten them, Alice love.”

Cora supposed that now was not the time to break the news to the handsome gentleman that not only had he forgotten the serviettes, but that the alleged girl he was on a date with was actually not Alice.

“Oh, it’s okay. We’ll survive,” Cora replied. As he sat, she noticed that his car keys had a tag with the name George Walters, so she added, “George dear.” George leaned over and Cora stiffened in apprehension. He planted a soft kiss on her cheek and returned back to his position across from her.

“Shall we start?” the man said brightly, lifting his wine glass. Cora followed suit. “To this day and our love.” They clinked glasses. Cora watched as George broke some bread in half and began to pile tomatoes, cheese, and prosciutto on top to create a delectable sandwich. She grabbed just a handful of berries.

“So it’s a brand new dress? You got it from Sally’s?” said George, obviously wanting to initiate conversation. Problem was, Cora didn’t know who Sally was. Or even what was going on in this instant. Some man named George was acting like they had known each other for years, even though he was calling her Alice. But Cora thought the best thing was to just go along with it all.

“Yes. It’s very comfortable. Do you like it?” Cora popped a blackberry into her mouth. There was an explosion of flavour – perfectly ripe.

George nodded enthusiastically. “It looks stunning on you. I’m glad Sally’s shop is able to cater to the whims of a dress aficionado such as you.” He winked.

So this Alice girl was obsessed with dresses as well? A good sign. Cora would be able to play along with this. She repositioned herself, grabbed a hunk of bread and began to slather hummus on top. It was like she was prepping for battle. And, in a way, she was. Preparing to battle this crazy, unrealistic situation. Where am I?