It's Sunday morning.

I'm in the car with Kara, we're heading to Sioux Falls for a day trip. It's the only place around here remotely close to being a city. And the only place I can be confident I can find some clothes in Kara's size.

The drive is about an hour and a half. We just left campus.

“My dad was pretty excited when I told him why I wanted to borrow his car to go shopping with you.” I let out an exasperated sigh, “We have to have dinner with him when we get back. As payment.”

Kara laughs, “That's fine with me. I'm just glad that I fit in here with the seat all the way back. It's comfortable, even.”

“Yeah, I was a little worried about that in this little Toyota. But it doesn't look too bad.”

“Yep, I'm comfy.” She turns to look at me, “How are things between you two?”

I know what she's asking. But maybe I can play dumb and evade her question.

“Between?”

“You and your dad.”

Dammit.

I narrow my eyes and tighten my hold on the steering wheel.

“Wh-why do you ask?”

“Well…it doesn't seem like you're close. Otherwise you would have visited more. And you'd be happier about coming here. And having dinner with him later.”

I sigh, “You're right. We…aren't close.”

“We don't need to talk about it, if you don't want to.”

“No, it's okay. You deserve to know stuff about…how my family fell apart. Given that it's my lame excuse for…what I did to you.”

“Em, you don’t owe me anything. Only tell me if you want to.”

“I do want to. But give me a minute. This…isn’t something I've ever talked to anyone about apart from my mom and therapist.”

She puts her hand on my shoulder and gives me an encouraging smile, “It means a lot to me that you want to tell me.”

That familiar smile does make it easier for me to do this.

I take a deep breath and say, “So the reason for the divorce was he…he cheated on my mom.”

“That's…terrible.”

“I know. She didn't take it well. To say the least. Ever since it all happened…she's been an alcoholic.”

Kara frowns and looks very concerned for me, “…she's been one since the divorce? And you've lived with her?”

“Yeah. But don't worry. She's not like…a stereotypical alcoholic parent. She doesn't hurt me or get angry or anything. And she never drinks during the day. She only drinks once she gets home from work. She gets drunk and falls asleep on the couch every night by about 7.”

Kara's concern doesn't dissipate, “Sh-she was doing that even when you were 9?”

“Um…yeah. I…had to grow up fast.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…I taught myself to cook, do laundry, all that stuff.” I laugh wryly, “I wake her up every morning, i-instead of the other w-way around.”

Why is my lip quivering like that? Pull it together!

“That sounds…so hard.”

“Y-yeah…that's part of why it's hard being here. I'm worried about her b-b-being on her own. I'm worried she'll g-g-get worse.”

My lip won't stop. And I feel pressure in my throat and behind the bridge of my nose.

Am I SERIOUSLY going to cry? I’ve basically never cried about this, not really. Not even in therapy. Come to think of it, I'm not sure I've REALLY cried even once in the last 10 years. I guess I'm due.

Just as I’m about to say I need to pull over, Kara gently says, “Hey, do you want to pull over so we can talk better?”

I nod and smile at her for still knowing me this well all these years later. I was more of a cry baby when I was kid, so this probably doesn't seem that unusual to her.

I pull the car over and park on the shoulder. I grip the steering wheel tightly and sit in silence for a moment, while Kara waits patiently. A few tears make their way down my cheeks while I try to tell her the worst part of all this.

“So…I’m really mad at my dad for all of that. For hurting my mom so badly that she…drinks. B-but…if it ended there, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.”

Kara frowns and her eyes narrow, “I-it gets worse?”

I turn and look in her light blue eyes and nod feebly, before I burst into tears, much to my embarrassment.

Kara puts an arm around me and pulls me close to her, and I settle into the side of her chest, where I bawl my eyes out like I’m 5 years old again.

I had all of this inside of me? I don't think I knew. I haven't felt comfortable enough to tell someone all this. And certainly not comfortable enough to cry like a child. Kara really is special. She really is my best friend, even all these years later.

Eventually, I cry all the tears I can and I sit up. When I do, I see Kara has a few tears too.

She smiles at me warmly, “You don't have to tell me the rest right now.”

I shake my head, “No…I want to. Just had to have…a mental breakdown first, apparently.”

She laughs softly, which makes me feel better. Truthfully I don't think I have any more tears left in me, so it's probably best I get it out of the way now. If I spread it out, I’ll probably just cry all over her again.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, “I'm the one who caught him…cheating. And…I'm the one…who had to tell my mom.”

“Whoa.”

I open my eyes and nod, “That morning…I started to feel sick on the way to school, so mom dropped me off back at the house and went to work. It was a day my dad didn't need to go to campus, so I’d be home with him.” I clench my eyes shut again, as if doing so will allow me to unsee what I saw that morning, “I…I went in and saw some woman I didn't know…naked on top of my dad on the couch.”

Kara's eyebrows shoot up, “Wh-who was she?”

I scoff, “Some professor. A-anyway, my dad lied to me and tried to explain it away and tried to get me not to say anything to my mom. Even when I was 9 it pissed me off. I may not have understood everything, but I knew he was doing something wrong. And I knew he was lying. And I knew he was trying to get me to lie to my mom!”

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Kara reaches out and squeezes my shoulder, “Yeah…I can see how that would make it hard to be close to him.”

I nod, “I called my mom at work and then…my family fell apart.” I start to sniffle again, but manage to keep it together.

I feel a little better when Kara takes my hand, “Hey…you don't blame yourself, do you?”

I shake my head.

I've been asked this in therapy before. And the answer has always been an easy ‘no.’ But now that Kay's asking…

“Sometimes…I do wonder if I had done what my dad said…if they'd still be together. And maybe…maybe my mom wouldn't drink.”

Kara squeezes my hand, “Well…for what it's worth, I think you did the right thing.”

I smile, “Thanks. I think you're probably right.”

“So…what's it been like when you're around him since then?”

“We barely talk when we’re around each other. When I visit, which I only do because it was part of the custody agreement, I mostly refuse to come out of my room.”

“But…he lent you this car, right?”

“Yeah. He did. We don't…hate each other…I don't think. But there's just this…suffocating tension. I lose my temper a lot with him and stuff.”

“Have you two ever talked about it all?”

“Nope. What can be said?”

“Well…I dunno. But telling him how all that stuff made you feel, like you just did to me, would probably make you feel a little better. And maybe you could hear how it all made him feel.”

I scowl at her and rip my hand away from hers. I squeeze the steering wheel as hard as I can and I raise my voice as I look out the windshield, “How it made him feel, Kay!? Who fucking cares!? He cheated on my mom. He broke her heart. He broke her. I don't want to hear about why he wanted to fuck some other woman!”

Kara quietly says, “S-sorry. I…I shouldn’t have butted in.”

I look over at Kara, and see that she has moved as far away from me as she can. She’s looking out the window with her body pressed against the car door.

I went too far. Especially because we just became friends again like three weeks ago. She didn't deserve to be yelled at.

I sigh, “You're just trying to help. A-and you're probably right. We need to have that conversation some day. But I'm not ready. As you can see from how much of a bitch I just was.”

She laughs and relaxes a little, “You weren't.”

“Oh really? Pretty sure screaming at the person who let me get her top all wet with my tears is pretty bitchy.”

She laughs again and relaxes some more, “You’re just upset. Not a…b-i-t-c-h.”

I raise my eyebrows at her and barely manage to suppress a laugh at her spelling out the word, “You…don't curse at all do you?”

She shakes her head and blushes a little, which is pretty cute. She was always such a good girl when we were little. I was the naughty one. That hasn't changed.

“Well…that makes my profane tirade even worse. Anyway…thank you, Kay. Seriously. I needed to get all that off my chest, apparently. It feels lighter already.”

She smirks and looks at my chest, “Looks as big as ever to me.”

We both crack up laughing as I start the car and we get back on the road.

…

We made it to the mall a little later than originally planned as a result of my emotional breakdown. We had lunch in the food court and then visited several different stores with no luck. There just aren't any cute outfits that work for her. The dresses that are long enough have large bust sizes. It's like they don't think it's possible to be taller and have smaller boobs.

When I ask the people at the store if they might be able to help find something in her size they look at her as if that's an impossible task. I quickly learn she wasn't exaggerating about how people look at her.

So she hasn't even tried anything on, because I can tell that the stuff just won't fit her, and after seeing how she feels about her body the other day, I know she'll get upset if I choose something and it doesn't fit.

I'm starting to get very worried. And Kara's gone from being excited about the whole thing to looking dejected.

I refuse to leave this fucking mall without finding her something that makes her feel good about herself. She made me feel better about my parents on the drive here. We can't end this trip without me helping her too.

I can't let her down. I won't be defeated by a crappy mall in this crappy state.

I'm rifling through the 50th rack of the day when I finally find something that I think will work.

I pull the garment in question out and hold it out in front of me. I turn to find Kara, who is leaning against the wall and frowning with her arms crossed. I walk towards her and hold it out in front of her.

This could work!

I press it against her, “Here, try this on.”

She looks at the garment and then back at me with uncertainty, “A…d-dress?”

“Yeah. A super cute dress.”

She claps her hands together and frowns, “I… really don't like how my chest and shoulders look, and dresses don't hide them. It's just like, ‘Oh look at that girl with the broad shoulders and no boobs.’

I smile, “Kay, if you put that dress on, no one will be looking at your chest or shoulders. I promise you that.”

She studies me and the dress in turn. She smiles softly, “I'm…not sure what that means. But now I want to find out.”

She takes the dress and takes a few steps towards the changing rooms before turning around with a bashful look on her face.

“Um…”

“Yeah?”

“Will you come with me?”

“In the dressing room?”

She nods, “Is that weird? I j-just…want to make sure I put it on right. And if I don't like …I don't want anyone else to see it.”

“Of course I'll help.”

She smiles broadly and lets me take the lead. For a split second, I reflexively extend my hand towards her, but I don't think she noticed.

This really feels like it did when we were kids. Her being unsure and me leading her by the hand. But the handholding should probably just be metaphorical now that we're grown up.

At least in public.

We find an empty dressing room and Kara hangs the dress on the hook. Then she turns her back to me and takes her t-shirt off. I notice she wasn't wearing a bra.

I’d like to tell her that that’s one nice benefit she derives from her modest chest, but as much as she envies mine and dislikes hers, I probably shouldn’t .

I find myself captivated by the sight of her back. She's not even flexing or anything right now, and her muscles are very visible. I don't know anything about muscles or what they are called, but her muscles are so well defined that I can see that her back has several separate muscles.

I’m 99% sure my back has no visible muscles at all.

As I'm enjoying watching how her back moves when she moves, she says, “Em?”

“Yeah?”

She holds the dress in front of herself, “Do I just…pull it over my head?”

“More or less. Unzip it first.”

She nods and does as I said, before pulling it over her head. As she does, I help her pull it down and straighten it. Then when I'm satisfied, I zip up the back.

Now that I'm seeing more of her, I'm even more impressed with her body. It's so firm and toned. She has to work hard for her body to look like this too. I really think she looks great. But, she already knows I think that. I just need her to see what I do. I hope this dress helps.

She turns around to look at me with a stiff posture and her hands clasped together, looking very unsure of herself. But she looks great. Better than great. She looks beautiful. I breathe a sigh of relief and smile.

It's a yellow shift dress that loosely covers her chest and shoulders that she's worried about, and it tapers as it goes down. It is probably just a tiny bit shorter than is ideal, but it looks like it fits her very well apart from that. Besides, the shortness draws even more attention to her long, toned legs.

The dress, combined with her hair cut, is giving me some serious flapper vibes. Although I guess most flappers probably weren't 6 foot 5 and jacked.

I voice my thoughts to her, “You look amazing.”

“I-I do? I'm scared to look in the mirror.”

“You really do. And you should see for yourself.” I point her towards the mirror.

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes before turning towards the mirror. She slowly opens one eye, before opening the other one and smiling radiantly. It makes me feel warmth in my chest.

“I-I do!”

I smile at her, “I'm glad you agree.”

She nods and touches her chest, “I like that it's loose up here. And I really like my legs in it.”

“That kind of dress is really made to draw attention to them more than anything. And you definitely have the legs for it. They look great.”

I'm surprised when she suddenly turns around and grabs me in a tight hug. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to call it a bear hug. Only the tips of my toes are still touching the ground.

I notice she's sniffling a little, “Thank you, so… so much, Em…no one has ever been able to make me look cute.”

I'm glad she isn't busty, or my face would be buried in her boobs. Still, I'm wearing a sundress and our bare skin is rubbing together on our legs. I feel my cheeks flush as I start to get embarrassed.

She releases me from the hug, “I'm glad you like it. But…I didn't make you cute, Kay. You already were . I just picked out a dress.”

She smiles and admires herself in the mirror some more while playing with the hem of her dress, “What is this called? This kind of dress, I mean.”

“A shift dress.”

“It's my favorite kind of dress.”

I laugh, “Do you know other kinds of dresses?”

“Nope! But I've tried a lot I didn't like. Doesn't matter if I know what kind they were.”

I giggle, “I…guess that's true. Well, now we know what to put you in to make you feel confident. I bet we can find some other ones in this store, too. Then you'll really be ready for some college dating.”

Suddenly, all the enthusiasm and happiness drains from her face, “D-dating?”

“Yeah, I mean. If you want. The guys at school will go wild if they see you in that, don't you think?”

She nods slightly, “Thanks again, Em. I'll change out of it. I think I can get it off on my own.”

I nod, “Okay. I'll go see if there's anything else for you on that rack.”

As I step out of the dressing room and head back to the rack, I start to worry about her demeanor when I left.

Maybe she doesn't really like the dress? And was just being nice. She certainly didn’t seem very confident about other people seeing her in it when I brought it up.

However, when she comes back out, she's all smiles and is very happy when I find her one other dress in the same style.

We’re leaving the store now, and she’s beaming with happiness as she carries the bag with her new dresses in it.

Maybe I was imagining things in the changing room?