A Closet Full of Clothes and Nothing to Wear

Eliza shut the door to her apartment. Joey's apartment, she reminded herself as she exhaled.

She was still in the pink skirt suit Joey had allowed her to wear for the day, and what a day it had been. From the chaos at school to the whirlwind of party planning, the day had been a blur. And now, of course, Bianca had taken Joey home, which was fine. Good, even. That was the whole point of supporting one another. Eliza was happy for them.

Except now she had a problem.

She'd forgotten to ask Joey what she was supposed to wear next.

Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. She should have asked before he left with Bianca, but she'd been too caught up in everything—the worry about Derek, the new community of women she found herself in, the party, the excitement. It was easy to get carried away in the whole thing. Even when Bianca and Joey had left the rest of them at the school, being driven away by Donna like a couple going to prom, had been an elating experience. Now Joey was probably having the time of his life, and she was standing here, stuck, because she couldn’t make a decision as important as getting dressed on her own.

Well, of course she could make the decision without him, but that would ruin everything. She needed to show Joey how to take responsibility for someone else, namely her. It was part of becoming a man. If she let it go now, the exercise would be ruined. When she had thought of this project, Eliza should have considered the fact that there would be hiccups, mistakes made, especially at the beginning. But, just like she had been in the school, Eliza had been caught up in the excitement of her newly explained job, her new life.

Her first instinct was to change into pajamas, but were they still her pajamas? No, they were Joey's pajamas, just like the suit she was wearing was Joey's suit. He hadn’t given her permission to wear anything else.

Maybe she should text him.

She pulled out her phone and stared at the screen. Then, slowly, she typed out a message.

Hey, Joey! I just got home. What should I wear?

She hovered over the send button, then hesitated. That sounded weirdly urgent. Like she couldn’t function without him, which, of course, wasn’t true. She was a capable, independent woman...

…who had given him her apartment, her belongings, and the right to dictate her wardrobe.

She deleted the message and tried again.

Hey, hope you're having a great time with Bianca! No rush, but when you get a chance, let me know what you'd like me to wear tomorrow. :)

That was better. Friendly. Casual. Not at all ****.

She hit send.

Then stared at her phone.

And stared.

And stared.

No response.

Of course, there was no response. He was busy with Bianca. She wasn't going to be one of those needy, clingy girls. She just needed to occupy herself.

Eliza glanced toward the closet. Joey's closet.

She walked over and opened the door, staring at the neatly hung blouses, skirts, and dresses. Her fingers skimmed the fabric as she considered each piece. It was funny—she remembered buying these clothes, remembered owning them. But she didn’t own them anymore. They were Joey's now.

And it felt good.

Relieving, almost, to not have to make those decisions anymore. It was right that her focus was on him. That was the dream, wasn’t it? To dedicate herself to something—someone—who truly needed her?

Still, she had to figure out something to wear. She couldn't just wander around naked while she waited. Joey had to tell her what to do!

She pulled out her phone again. Maybe if she phrased it differently.

Hey, just checking in! Should I keep wearing the pink suit? Or would you like me to change?

That was fine. Totally normal.

She hit send.

Then frowned. That made it sound like she was standing in the middle of the apartment, waiting for instructions, which was pathetic. She had to fix this.

I mean, obviously, I can wait. It's not like I’m just standing here. Haha. Take your time!

Ugh. The 'haha' made it worse.

Not that I'm laughing at anything. Just being chill. No rush at all.

Why had she sent that?!

Eliza groaned and flopped onto the bed. Joey's bed.

Her phone buzzed. She grabbed it, heart leaping—

Madison: Hey, what color R U wearing 2 the party?

Oh.

Right. Madison. Party.

Eliza exhaled, trying to focus.

Not sure yet. I'll have to ask Joey if he wants me in anything special. Or do you think all us girls should coordinate? What do you think?

Madison: U can ask Joey if U want. But we can help if you need.

That made sense. Madison and Aynsley were two of the most popular girls in school. Trend-setters. They had style and resources to make themselves look good. Eliza could do far worse than having them dress her for a party.

If Joey let her...

She needed a plan.

Grabbing her notebook, she flipped to a clean page and started a list.

Solutions for Clothing Crisis:

• Keep wearing the pink suit until Joey tells me otherwise. (Downside: It’s dry-clean only.)
• Sleep in it to avoid making a decision. (Downside: Highly uncomfortable.)
• Wrap myself in a bedsheet like a toga. (Downside: Weird, but technically not wrong.)
• Find the least assuming, most neutral outfit possible and hope Joey doesn’t mind. (Downside: What if he does mind?)
• Text Joey again. (Downside: I already sound insane.)
• Wait. (Downside: ****. Also, I might die. Unconfirmed.)

She tapped her pen against the page.

Then, slowly, she picked up her phone.

Hey, Joey! Hope you’re having a great time! Just wanted to double-check—should I sleep in the pink suit, or is there something else you’d prefer? Totally fine either way! No rush. I love you.

...Wait.

Wait.

WAIT.

Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god oh—

She stared at the message in horror.

I LOVE YOU???

No, no, no—she did not just send that—

She slammed the phone facedown on the bed and covered her eyes.

Maybe she could move. Start a new life. Change her name.

The phone vibrated.

She peeked at it, pulse racing.

Joey?

No.

Madison: Maybe we should take U shopping. No more teacher clothes. Time 2 show off.

Eliza groaned into her hands.

She was never texting again.