Mike was in the car with Roger when he pulled up to the curb in front of the mall entrance to pick up his daughters. The plan was to drop Zoe and Dawn off at home, then Roger and Mike were going to spend some time at the new indoor batting cages that had just opened. Linda was already home by the time the girls arrived, viola tucked between her jaw and collarbone as she played the harmony part of “Sunrise, Sunset” from Fiddler on the Roof in the living room.
Zoe and Dawn knew better than to interrupt her, so they each waved a greeting as they passed by their mother and received a crinkle-eyed smile in return, then both retreated to their bedrooms.
Zoe had some homework she needed to finish up, but Dawn did not. And the only thing on her young mind was “how are all of my outfits going to look when I’m wearing a training bra?”
Dawn spent the next hour barrelling through her wardrobe, outfit-by-outfit, eventually pulling on and taking off every single item she owned. Most outfits didn’t look any different than normal, but a few had a thin enough material that the undergarment was clearly visible, or had shoulder straps narrow enough that she’d have to coordinate which bra she was wearing.
It was all good information to know. New information to know.
Eventually, Dawn found herself collapsed in an exhausted heap upon her bed, various clothing items littering every corner of her room, smiling as her chest rose and fell in rhythm with the great gasps of air she was taking in. And then someone knocked on her door.
“Goodness,” Linda said in mock surprise as she entered. “Someone’s been busy today.”
Dawn’s smile just widened as she sat up on her bed in a pink tank top (with complementary-accenting bra straps in a slightly different shade visible on her shoulders) and knee-length skirt.
Linda gingerly stepped between piles of clothes to make her way to her daughter’s bed and sat down beside her. “I’m glad Zoe was here to help you this morning, but I think there are some things a mom needs to say to her daughter directly.”
The next half-hour was filled with conversation, education, and love. It was the kind of talk that can only be shared between family, and to which inquisitive readers of stories should not be privy, lest they dilute its importance. Dawn learned many things, but she also impressed her mother with how much she already knew.
“How did you get to be so smart?” Linda finally asked when Dawn managed to answer a question before Linda had even finished asking it.
“I learned from Zoe,” Dawn replied. “That’s what little sisters do.”
