In 2009 I started as a freshmen in community college. I was a double major in psych and soci. In my sociology class thhere was a girl who was paired with me for a collaborative project.
At the time I was a very mean, angry, and a jerk of a person. So, naturally, I told her to just shut the fuck up, let me do all the work so we can both get an easy A. I certainly did not want to collaborate, let alone trust her being competent with ideas.
At first she kept her distance, but always looking over to see what I was doing. Not really saying anything.
My harshness continued until she timidly announced a suggestion. It was not actually half bad of an idea... Actually, it really threw me off because it basically invalidated my entire project off. Hubris, huh?
That said, we decided to actually collaborate on the project as a functional team. Very odd, that never happens. We ended up getting a B.
Past the due date of the project she and I kept talking. We'd hangout after class in the library and just shoot the bull. I never honestly seeked her out, it was always her that would start a conversation or ask to hang out. Something I now regret not doing.
One day she asked if we could go out to get dinner. Sure, I thought it might be enjoyable.
I arrived at her house in casual clothing - nothing fancy, a tshirt and cargo pants. I never thought anything of it.
And then...
She opened the door. She wore this radiant smile on her face which was a part joy, part shyness, part anxiety. Along with this smile she wore this red dress.
I immediately knew I screwed up. This was not going out to eat, this was a date. And yet, something more was wrong than my oblivious attire:
She was still smiling after seeing me in my less than fancy clothing. It seems she did not care, though. She introduced me to her parents which was super nerve wrecking, but they were equally kind. I instantly knew where Ave inherited her smile from.
We went out for dinner and after we walled around a park without our shoes on. We found a bench where we just sat and talked.
It was this night where she told me a lot of things about herself. The dress she wore was once her grandmothers who wore it to her first date, who gave it to Ave's mother, who wore it on her first date, and now Ave recieved it - for her first date.
Ave hoped to eventually give it to her daughter one day.
Ave like to collect books of arthurian lore and folk stories.
Ave never really knew what she wamter her job to be as an adult.
Ave believed that inspiration is best found through nature.
Ave did not believe in the death penalty was a just sentence.
Ave believed in a cyclical afterlife of positive and negative energy.
Ave was dying of brain cancer.
It was a couple of months past the date when her father took a job in England, a place where her daughter always wamted to go. So they moved.
I saw Aveline off, and we shared her first and last kiss. Does itvmatter that it was on the lips?
Months went by, a year went by, a year and a half.
I recieved word that they were returning to the States, back to her hometown.
We become much closer. Though, as harsh as it sounds.. I never fell in love with her. I loved her. I did. I do. But I never fell in love with her.
Time went on. Ave's health eventually arrested her to bedside.
Just know that "bad day" is when holding a person's hand next to them in bed is more intimate than a first kiss.
She would periodically ask me to sing to her as we shared a favorite band. I am a god awful singer, but for her I sung and sung my heart out.
Aveline passed away several days before her 20th birthday.
So, why Red Dress?
It is in honor of her and to pass along the reminder that she had dreams past more than herself, onto her never-to-be daughter. It is a reminder that I should live tthe life she never got to. To live life and do things I want to because I am passionate about doing.
Still, there was a time (it never really leaves) where I wonder wether or not if I could have saved her if I showed her the love and kindness she showed me. That unconditional love she deserved and was not allowed. Compassion does wonders. it really is amazong what kindess heals. People do not realize that it makes a huge amount of difference.
And whether or not it is silly. I learned to believe in the afterlife. Something similar to what she believed. Maybe it is reminance of grief, maybe it is just necesaary for me to cope with her death. Either way, it is something I believe in spirit.
Through her friendship, I learned to be more compassionate.
My heart has healed from the loss of her and her friendship, but I still have the memory of the great (albeit brief) times we shared
