Chapter 19 - The Dress
Sofia kept the torn blue dress for eighteen months.
In a box.
Closet.
Never opened.
Then one Saturday she called me.
“Come over.”
I arrived.
Alexander was there too.
That surprised me.
Their relationship had changed slowly.
Coffee.
Lunch.
No money conversations unless invited.
He had attended therapy session once at Sofia’s request.
Now she opened the box.
The dress.
Blood stains preserved despite evidence processing.
Torn seam.
She touched.
“I thought I wanted to burn it.”
Alexander said:
“You still can.”
“No.”
I waited.
“What do you want?”
Sofia smiled slightly.
“I want the fabric.”
For what?
She hired a textile artist.
Not to make memorial.
To cut away undamaged blue fabric and turn it into three small quilt panels.
One for her.
One for me.
One for Alexander.
Alexander stared when she told him.
“I don’t deserve…”
Sofia interrupted.
“Stop deciding.”
He nodded.
Good.
The stained and torn portion?
Destroyed.
Not art.
Not preserved.
Gone.
Her panel contained clean blue silk.
No blood.
Sofia said:
“I wanted something from that dress Carmen didn’t touch.”
That broke me.
Then Alexander’s panel remained in his office.
Mine in bedroom.
Sofia used hers as wall hanging near entry.
Not every object needed disappear.
Some could be edited by choice.
Then the condo.
She considered selling.
Did not immediately.
For years Carmen made it symbol.
Sofia refused to make either keeping or selling symbolic.
She lived there.
Repainted.
Changed locks.
Hosted friends.
Eventually the home became hers again.
Then one night, she invited Alexander for dinner.
First time in condo since he bought it.
He stood at door.
“Do I need permission?”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“You have it.”
May you like
He entered.
That mattered more than deed.
