I looked at my watch; it said 11:30. I had spent most of the four hours or so since I woke up lurking in an Internet Relay Chat trying to talk to girls, and sending emails to a couple of girls whom I had met in IRC chats over the years who actually stayed in touch. After a long week of meetings and teacher work days, preparing for my upcoming first day as a student teacher in a classroom, I wanted to relax and unwind and do very little on this sunny and hot Saturday morning. But I had plans this afternoon; I needed to get dressed.
My house, the left half of a duplex, had three bedrooms in a line, with the largest in the front of the house and the smallest toward the back. The living room, dining room, and kitchen were in the back of the house, past the small bedroom. Last year, I shared the large room with Sean Richards, but I had been alone in that bedroom temporarily for about a week now. Josh McGraw, now a married man, had finished moving his stuff out of the middle bedroom, and Sean had moved his things from his half of the front bedroom into Josh’s old room. Sam Hoffman had moved out of the smallest bedroom a month ago, and Brody Parker, whose parents also lived in Jeromeville, was gradually moving things in all month. I did not move anything into the empty half of my bedroom, though, because Jed Wallace would be arriving later in September to take over that half of the room. Sean was out of town that weekend, so I had the house to myself, unless Brody dropped off more stuff at some point.
I showered and threw on a Bay City Titans t-shirt and black cargo shorts. I typically dressed like this on hot days, and the fact that I had plans today in the first place stemmed from the fact that I normally dressed casually like this. I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and ate it with tortilla chips and a banana. I finished a while before one o’clock, so I went back to my computer and more failed attempts to talk to girls in the IRC chat until it was time to go.
I drove the short distance down Acacia Drive to Maple Lane, then continued across Coventry Boulevard to the Redwood Grove Apartments, on the corner of Maple and Alvarez. I parked on the street and walked through the parking lot of the apartment complex, looking for apartment 41. I had only been here before, and I had no idea how the apartments were numbered, because that one time was three years ago and I never went inside. The apartments closest to the street seemed to have small numbers starting with apartment 1, so number 41 was probably closer to the back.
I walked past the swimming pool. The picnic table next to the swimming pool was still there. Three years ago, right around this time of year, I sat at that picnic table with a girl I had just met and would never see again. On that night, just like this morning, I had been in a chat channel on IRC trying to talk to girls. I found a girl my age who also lived in Jeromeville, and on a whim I asked if she wanted to meet in person. She lived in these apartments that year, and we sat at that picnic table on a pleasant late summer night just talking about life. I could tell that we did not have a lot in common, and I never tried to meet her in person again after that, but we occasionally still talked on IRC for a few months after that. She was the only person from the Internet whom I had ever met in real life.
I found apartment 41 and knocked. Bethany Bradshaw answered the door, wearing overall shorts with a white T-shirt underneath and Birkenstocks. I felt at ease knowing that she was not dressed up either. “Hey!” Bethany said. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” I replied. “Just been relaxing this morning.”
“You ready?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Let’s go!”
Swing dancing had become a nationwide fad over the last year, and when many of my friends got into it, I thought they were weird. But I eventually gave it a try and had fun, and now swing dancing was my new hobby. I spent most Sunday nights that summer swing dancing at the University Bar & Grill. I met Bethany at swing dancing a little over a month ago. I also knew her from University Life, the college group at her church; I attended U-Life in the summer because the group I normally attended, Jeromeville Christian Fellowship, did not meet during the summer. Last Sunday, I had just finished a dance with Bethany, and I said, “Thank you! So what are your plans for the week?”
“Not much,” she replied. “You wanna follow me to the bar? I’m gonna get a drink.”
“Sure,” I said, surprised at first because Bethany was a church girl, not the type to drink. Also, she was only twenty years old, not of legal drinking age. She ordered something called a Roy Rogers.
“I might actually leave a little early tonight,” I said. “But not any time soon. I have to drive to Nueces in the morning. It’s my first teacher work day.”
“That’s exciting! So just meeting with teachers, no students tomorrow?”
“Right. The students start next week. So I’m going to have to get up early every Monday. I hope that doesn’t get too much in the way of being able to dance Sunday night.” I watched the bartender make Bethany’s drink, putting ice in a glass and pulling something from under the bar that looked like one of those retractable pull-out kitchen faucets, but with buttons on it. The bartender pressed a red button, pointing the faucet into the glass, and something that looked like cola came out. She pulled a bottle from the shelf behind her and poured a thick red syrup into the drink, mixing it with a straw. Then she added a maraschino cherry and handed Bethany the glass. “What is a Roy Rogers, anyway?” I asked.
“Coke and grenadine. Cherry-pomegranate flavor. Non-alcoholic.”
“That sounds good. Can I have one too?” I asked the bartender. As she made my Roy Rogers, I told Bethany, “I figure I’ll play it safe and leave a little early tonight, then I can figure out whether I’ll need to leave early or not in the future once my schedule gets settled.”
“Sounds like a good plan.”
“I don’t know what to wear tomorrow. I was thinking a polo shirt and Dockers, but I don’t know if I should be wearing a tie or what. And I don’t know if it’s different on days when students aren’t there.”
“I don’t know either.”
“I need to get work clothes. I really don’t have a lot of nice clothes. I have this button-up shirt I’m wearing tonight, and one more, and that’s about it as far as dress shirts. I don’t even know what I’m looking for, though,” I said. The bartender handed me my drink and I took a sip. “This is really good. I like this.”
“One of these days, I need to go exchange a pair of pants at Macy’s in Cap City. I got the same size I always do, but I guess this brand runs small because they don’t fit. You wanna come with me and shop for work clothes, and I can help you pick stuff out?”
“Sure!” I said.
Now, six days later, I was heading east toward Capital City with Bethany, going to Macy’s to shop for work clothes. This was the first time Bethany had ever been in my car. “Do you listen to music when you drive?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied. “Actually, it’s weird. I always listen to music when I’m alone in the car, and I usually don’t listen to music when I’m driving and other people are in the car.”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I’m just self-conscious. People love to make fun of music they don’t like, and I don’t want people making fun of me and my music.”
“Let’s get you out of your comfort zone.” Bethany turned on the radio; “Semi-Charmed Life” by Third Eye Blind came on.
“This song always gets stuck in my head,” I said.
“I know! I heard it the other day, and hours later I’m walking around the apartment going ‘doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo.’ And apparently the lyrics are really dirty.”
“I didn’t know that,” I said, a little disappointed because I liked the song. “I’ve never been able to understand all of what he’s saying.”
“Me either, but I guess it’s about sex and drugs or something like that.”
“Does it bother you? You want to change the station?”
“It’s almost over anyway. Don’t worry about it.”
After finding a spot in the parking garage next to Macy’s, I locked the car, and the two of us walked toward the entrance. “Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo,” Bethany sang.
“This is going to be our new inside joke all weekend, isn’t it,” I said. “Just randomly singing Semi-Charmed Life.”
“Seriously, that song gets stuck in everyone’s head! Apparently that’s what it takes to have a hit song, even if the lyrics are, well, dark and uncomfortable.”
“True,” I said.
This Macy’s was a large store, with three floors and a basement. I found a store directory and followed the directions to the men’s clothing department. “I’ve been in this store once before,” I said. “It’s a lot bigger than any of the department stores back home.”
“Plumdale has department stores?” Bethany teased.
“No. But Gabilan and Santa Lucia both have small one-story shopping malls. Some of the department stores have an upstairs too, and that’s it.”
“Looks like men’s shirts are over there,” Bethany said, pointing. We walked over to a section of wall with cubby-hole-sized shelves, each filled with men’s dress shirts. I quickly realized that they were arranged by size, with the same shirt in each column and each cubby-hole containing the same size shirt. “Do you know your size?” she asked.
“The two dressy shirts I have are 17½ neck, 34 sleeve, but the sleeves feel a little too short. So probably 17½-36.” I spent several minutes looking over the dress shirts and picked out five of them, three in solid colors, one with vertical stripes, and one with both horizontal and vertical stripes. All five were pricey, in my opinion, but relatively inexpensive for Macy’s; I stayed away from the pricey designer brands, mostly because I could not tell the difference between name brands and cheap clothing just by looking.
I noticed an entirely different display of dress shirts nearby and asked, “What are these?” I read the sign with the price on it. “Short sleeve dress shirts. I should probably get some of these for when it’s hot.”
“You could do that,” Bethany said. As I had with the long sleeve shirts, I picked out a few short sleeve dress shirts, size 17½, in different colors and patterns.
Next we moved on to pants; I tried on a few pairs to make sure I had the right size. I got a few ties too, in a variety of patterns, in colors that would go with the shirts.
“See?” Bethany said. “You’re doing just fine shopping for work clothes. I think all of this will look good together.” We walked past a display of sweaters, and Bethany asked, “How are you on sweaters? For when it gets cold?”
“I have one,” I replied. “I could probably use a couple more.”
“They would never sell something like this in the women’s section,” Bethany observed, pointing to a sweater with green and blue horizontal stripes.
“Why not?” I asked, genuinely confused.
“The horizontal stripes make you look fat.”
“Really? I don’t think so.”
“That’s how women would see this.”
“Hmm,” I replied, not sure what to say, not wanting to back myself into a corner where Bethany would interpret anything I said as calling her fat. I did not think she was fat. I grabbed two sweaters in solid colors, one dark blue and the other dark green. “I think this is most of what I need,” I said. “You want to go get your stuff now?”
“Sure, if you’re done,” Bethany replied.
As we were leaving the men’s section, I heard Bethany say, “Look! This is what you should get!” I looked up and saw a display of fedoras, driver caps, bowler hats, and other men’s hats that would look right at home on a swing dance floor, next to a display of suspenders. With swing dancing being such a fad in those days, it made sense that stores would attempt to cater to that crowd.
“I think about this sometimes,” I said. “So many of the regulars at swing dancing dress in old-time clothes for it, and I don’t. Maybe I should start dressing up for dancing.”
Bethany grabbed a gray flat driver cap and put it on my head. “I like it,” she said. I walked to the nearest mirror, straightened the cap, and smiled.
“This kind of hat makes me think of Jed Wallace,” I said. “Do you know Jed? He goes to both JCF and U-Life, and he has a hat like this. One like this, too,” I said, pointing to the fedora on the rack. “He was a freshman last year.”
“I think so. He has bushy blond hair?”
“Yeah, that’s him. He’s gonna be my roommate this coming year.”
“Oh, nice!”
“I think I’m gonna buy this hat. I like it.”
“Really? To wear to swing dancing?”
“Yeah. I guess I need some suspenders now too. Do they make suspenders that go with normal pants, or do you need special pants for them to attach to?”
Bethany grabbed a pair of black suspenders with two straps crossed in the back in an X shape, with clips on each end of each strap. “These just clip on to normal pants. These other ones over here, they have button holes, and they go with special pants that have buttons just for suspenders.”
“I see,” I replied. “I guess I could use these.” I added the clip-on suspenders to everything else I was carrying.
Bethany, noticing that my arms were very full, suggested, “Why don’t we go pay for your stuff now, then we can look for my stuff? Then they’ll give you a bag and it’ll be easier to carry everything.”
“Good idea.” I walked to the nearest cash register and watched as the cashier added all of my purchases. This was probably the most money I had ever spent on clothes in one sitting, I thought, as I handed the cashier my credit card. I had enough money to cover it and still pay off my credit card bill in one month, though. My parents had given me money as a graduation gift, and I had not spent it on anything yet.
Bethany had no problems exchanging her pants, mostly because she had a receipt and Macy’s had the correct size in stock. “Are you coming to swing tomorrow?” she asked me on the drive home.
“Of course,” I said. “Wearing my new hat and suspenders. Are you?”
“Yeah.”
“I wonder if they’ll ever talk about how to lead a dip in the beginner lesson. Last week I was dancing with Sasha Travis, and I tried dipping her at the end of the song, and I almost dropped her.”
“Oops,” Bethany said. “Is Sasha one of your church friends that you hang out with there?”
“Yeah. She has straight brown hair and glasses. Kind of skinny.”
“Oh, okay. I know which one she is. I can show you tomorrow what I know about dipping and being dipped.”
“Sure. That would work.”
After we got back to Jeromeville, I pulled into the parking lot of Redwood Grove Apartments and drove toward the back, now that I knew where Bethany’s apartment was. “Thanks so much for suggesting this,” I said. “And for coming with me.”
“Yeah!” Bethany replied. “I had fun! I’m sure you’ll look great meeting the students on Monday.”
“Thanks. I’ve been trying not to think too much about it. I’m scared.”
“You’ll do fine. And you’re not actually teaching them on the first day, right?”
“Right. Over the next few months, I’ll be gradually taking over the class.”
“So you don’t have anything to worry about.”
“I guess,” I said. After an awkward lull of about seven seconds, trying to think of what else to say before Bethany left, I started singing, “Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo.”
“I told you,” Bethany laughed, “that’s going to be stuck in my head all day now.”
“So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night at the U-Bar?”
“Yes!” Bethany exclaimed. She leaned over and hugged me from the passenger seat. I turned awkwardly and hugged back. “See you then. Have a great rest of the night.”
“You too!” I said. I watched as Bethany walked toward her apartment and drove away after I saw her unlock the door and go inside.
When I got back to my house, I noticed Brody’s car in the driveway, and when I walked inside I heard him unpacking things into his closet. “Greg?” he called out. “Is that you?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “What’s up?”
“Just unpacking more stuff. Going back to my parents’ in a bit, since I don’t have a bed yet here. What about you?”
“I went to Macy’s in Cap City with Bethany Bradshaw. I was telling her last week–”
“Ooo, Greg has a girlfriend,” Brody teased.
“No, I don’t,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “Last week at swing dancing, I told her I needed to get nice clothes for student teaching. And she needed to exchange something there, so I came along.”
“Which one is Bethany?” Brody asked. I described her, and he said, “I think I know who you mean. I’ve seen her dancing with you before.”
“And I also got this.” I pulled the suspenders and hat out of the bag, and added, “To wear to swing dancing.”
“Nice,” Brody said.
I went back to my room and unpacked the bag of clothes, realizing I had a lot of ironing to do now. That was the boring part. The exciting part was that I had a hat and suspenders. A lot of people at swing dancing dressed in period clothing. Sometimes I felt like I stood out for not dressing the part, and now that I had become a regular, showing up virtually every Sunday night, wearing a hat and suspenders would make me feel more like I actually belonged there.
I picked out one of the short sleeve dress shirts, a light blue one, and ironed it, planning to wear it with a tie tomorrow. Unfortunately, no one told me that short sleeve dress shirts are not usually worn with ties; I was just thinking that it would be hot, and I wanted to be comfortable. I was not planning on wearing a tie every day to work, only on special occasions, but the first day of school was a special occasion when I wanted to look nice for students meeting me for the first time. It was several years before I realized that I never saw anyone else wearing short sleeve dress shirts with ties. I could be surprisingly oblivious to some things.
Later that night, as I was drifting off to sleep, I started picturing what tomorrow night would be like, showing up to swing dancing at the U-Bar in a white shirt and black slacks, with my new flat driver’s cap and clip-on suspenders. Bethany would probably make some comment, since she was there with me when I bought them, and so would Brody since he saw me bring them home. I really hoped that girls would notice and want to dance with me. I pictured Sasha Travis walking up to me, her brown eyes smiling at me from behind her glasses, and excitedly telling me how much she loved my hat. I drifted to sleep imagining Sasha dancing with me. I pictured myself hearing the song end and leading Sasha into a perfectly executed dip, then talking to her for a long time afterward and becoming oblivious to everything and everyone around me.
Readers: Do you have to dress up for work, or for any other activity you do regularly? Do you like dressing up? Tell me about it in the comments!
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