When Dawn opened her eyes once more, her head was clear. There weren’t any more voices. Sarah straightened up and took a step back, giving Dawn a clear view of the floor around her. And even if that wall of graphic tees seemed familiar and comfortable, Dawn knew that she wasn’t here for comfortable. And even if it was safe to just follow what Zoe was doing, Dawn knew that she had to find her own voice, independent of Zoe.
So she found herself running, blindly, in a third direction. No, not blindly. But carelessly. Care-freely. Like the weight of some past life that she couldn’t remember had been lifted from her, letting her finally acknowledge what she truly wanted.
Pink. Floofy, flouncy, twirly pink. Once Dawn’s eyes fell on the rack of dresses, her body just followed, and a peal of giddy laughter was all that she left behind her. She dove at the display, moving aside hanger after hanger in search of her own size, pulling item after item off of the rack as she found it. Some of the dresses were long, and some were short. Some had full sleeves, and some were spaghetti-strapped. Some had intricate patterns, and some were solid color.
But they were all pink.
After observing this for a few moments, Sarah crept over to Zoe and whispered, “Do you remember what Dawn used to wear?”
This caught Zoe’s attention, and she put down the bustier she’d been admiring. “Like, you mean, in this current reality?”
Sarah nodded.
“I don’t think I do.” There was surprise in Zoe’s voice. “I just, I can’t bring up an image of Dawn wearing anything that she wasn’t wearing in the last two days. Why, what’s she trying on?”
Zoe hopped up on her toes and craned her neck to look over the displays and spotted her sister, one arm full of dresses in all shades of pink, and the other holding up a pastel pink sundress with a peter pan collar up against herself to check for size.
“She wears pink,” Zoe said with an absent gaze as her heels returned to the floor. Seeing Dawn with all of those dresses triggered a waterfall of new memories. “She wears nothing but pink.”
“I know that’s what she’s looking at now,” Sarah said, “but I mean overall.”
“No, I mean, suddenly I remember,” Zoe became animated again. “Dawn loves pink. It’s all she’ll wear, at least in this reality. But Jon, the original Jon, he wouldn’t ever go near the color. He hated anything that was even slightly girly.” Zoe furrowed her brow. “I think you, an alternate you in a different reality, might have told me that Jon started teasing you when you started wearing more pink. It is so weird having both sets of memories and knowing they’re the same person.”
“You should take her into the fitting rooms,” Sarah said. “If your memories are changing, then maybe she’s still changing, too. Maybe distracting her a little will pause those changes.”
Part of Zoe wanted to ask Sarah to do it. A part that was uncomfortable with the idea of her memories changing based on Dawn’s actions. But the larger part of Zoe had only one thing to say: ‘you’re her sister, this is your job.’
