Natasha hadn't been through some of these clothes in what felt like years. Surprisingly enough, and much to her enjoyment, all of them still fit her. She was happy to discover that she hadn't lost her figure, but a lot of that had to do with the fitness routine she did often to stay in shape for her show and the fact that she simply didn't gain weight much. Her metabolism had always been rather high. She ate like someone about to face execution, stuffing her face, but never managed to put on any weight. But when she pulled some of these stacks of clothes out of her closet and laid them on her bed, she was astonished to see just how many articles of clothing she hadn't worn in ages. Some of them she'd had since before Violet had even been born.
It was sort of like seeing old friends again, and it brought a warmth to her heart, put a smile on her face. She started thumbing through old articles of clothing, tossing a few into a nearby open plastic bin she'd set out to take to the station for their annual charity drive. She started yet another pile for things she wanted to keep. Natasha was going to make good on her promise to herself this year to finally start fresh, and try and get rid of as much stuff as possible, and after a half hour or so, the bin was nearly full. She pulled yet another stack out and started a second bin after finishing the first, but at the very end of the second stack...was the sweatshirt. It wasn't a very unique looking sweatshirt by any means. Just a normal zipper hoodie that was medium purple and had two front pockets. But Natasha stood there, staring at this thing, and moments she'd long forgotten about, moments she'd tried to forget about, came rushing back at her full force. This sweatshirt wasn't just an article of clothing. This sweatshirt had some history. *** They'd first found it in a thrift store. "What do you think of this?" Stephen asked, holding up the sweatshirt on a plastic hanger. Natasha put down whatever she was looking at, tossing it aside instantly to approach this purple hoodie, and touched the fabric between her fingers. "Oooh, it's soft," she said, "That would feel good. I wonder how warm it is on the inside." Nat took it from the hanger and pulled it on over herself, smoothing it out after doing so, only stopping to slip her hands into the front pockets and then glancing back up at Stephen, who stood there admiring her new look. "Well?" he asked. "It's cozy, that's for sure. What do you think?" she asked, before adding, rather sarcastically, "I really value your opinion on my wardrobe." "If that were true you would never have bought those shoes last week," Stephen replied, the both of them laughing now as others in the store began to look their way. She took it off and put it back on the hanger, saying it was perfect. Stephen kissed the side of her head as he tossed it into their basket of other clothes from the store, and eventually they checked out. It was cold outside, so she immediately put it on once they were back outdoors, and walking back to their car. They'd only been married for a few weeks and were still trying to save money where they could, which is why they had been shopping at a thrift store; that and the fact that Natasha simply loved thrift shopping. Stephen preferred more high end clothing stores. Turns out, Stephen would prefer a lot of things that were the opposite of Natasha. *** "Hey," Jay said, knocking on her bedroom door and looking at her, "Any of these ready to go?" "Huh...uh, yeah. Yeah, sorry, that first one is totally ready to go, you can load that up," Natasha said, pointing at the first tub she'd filled. Jay nodded and then walked to it, knelt down and attempted to lift it, struggling somewhat. Natasha chuckled and got up to help him. Together they carried the box down the stairs and outside to his car where they loaded it into the backseat. "Phew, that stereotype about women having too many clothes is not a stereotype at all," Jay said, wiping his brow on his sleeve. "You don't own many clothes?" Natasha asked him. "Please," Jay said, taking a swig from a water bottle, "I'm a guy. All men own like approximately three halves of an outfit." Natasha laughed as Jay got into his car and started it up. She leaned in through the passenger window and looked at him. "So, you're gonna come back?" she asked. "Yeah, I'm gonna drop this by the station, toss a label on it with your name, then come on back for anything else. Why? You wanna come with me?" "...I suppose it couldn't hurt to get out of the house for a bit. I've already got a second box near completion anyway," Nat said, climbing into the passenger seat and buckling herself in as Jay pulled away from the curb and started driving. For a bit the two sat there in silence as they headed down the street, towards the station downtown. Natasha chewed her lip and thought about the sweatshirt. "Do you ever keep stuff you got during a relationship after the relationship ends?" Natasha asked and Jay thought for a moment, adjusting the brim of his hat before responding. "I...yeah, actually, I have. There's this cool beer glass this girl I dated got me for my birthday when we were on vacation somewhere together, and I still have that. But it's usually very small stuff that isn't really tied to the relationship proper, not something huge," Jay replied. "What about an article of clothing?" Nat asked, and Jay shrugged, thinking. "I...don't think so, no...I know I have a ring that my first serious girlfriend bought me back in college, but that's about it, and that's more jewelry than clothing, so," Jay said, taking a sharp turn and making Nat hold herself in place as the car lunged around a corner. She thought back to the purple sweatshirt, and why she still had it, after all this time. Especially now that Stephen was gone, why was she keeping it? Well, there had to be a reason, after all. The sweatshirt had to have more memories attached to it than just her life with him. *** Natasha had been completely unprepared to go to the hospital when Violet had been born, mostly because Violet was about two weeks too early, and nobody had anticipated this. When getting rushed down the stairs by Stephen, she noticed how cold it was outside, and he quickly grabbed the first jacket he saw lying draped over the couch. He pulled the purple sweatshirt on her and then helped Natasha to the car where he sped to the hospital. Violet's premature birth was one of the reasons, they believed, she was somewhat mentally handicapped, but sitting there in her hospital bed, holding her newly born daughter in her arms, Natasha didn't care one way or the other. She simply knew she loved her no matter what, and that that would never change. On the car ride home a few days later, she wrapped Violet inside the purple sweatshirt, and held her the entire way home. Sitting there in the car, looking at her sleeping daughter in her arms, Natasha smiled and looked up at the windshield momentarily. "...I think I want to name her Violet," Natasha said. "Violet? I thought you liked Hailey," Stephen said, and Natasha shook her head. "I did, I mean, I do, but I...I also like Violet. I think it's more fitting," she said, and Stephen smiled and shrugged. "Hey, whatever you want. You want to name her Violet, we'll name her Violet," Stephen said. Natasha looked back down at Violet nestled in the sweatshirt, and she smiled again. Violet would be bringing her years of smiles down the road, while Stephen would wind up bringing her pain and anger. He may have been the one to find the sweatshirt, but she was the one to wear it. *** Jay parked in the station parking lot and he and Natasha got out of the car and began unloading the boxes he had with him. Together, one by one, they carried them inside the station and set them down in the spare empty office with all the other boxes that had been brought in thus far. Natasha stood there and looked at all the boxes of clothing and books and whatever else was being donated and she smiled. "Look at all this charity," she said, "This is wonderful. I can't believe I'm shocked at peoples kindness, but I suppose in todays modern world kindness has become shocking. When hatred becomes so normalized, kindness becomes the surprise." "Well put," Jay said, cracking open a soda and sipping it before handing it to Natasha who took a few sips herself. "It makes me glad to see people giving things they don't need anymore to people who might need them. We're not dragons, for fucks sake, we shouldn't hoard things, you know? If you don't wear a piece of clothing anymore or you don't have a particular attachment to a book or a movie, then give it to someone who might, you know? I mean, I'm all for collecting things. I understand why people hold onto personal libraries and film collections and, hell, even pieces of clothing. But...I think Stephen leaving honestly really forced me to start looking at moving forward instead of being continually stuck in the past." "I think that's a perfectly healthy way to live," Jay said, sitting on top of one of the clothing tubs, "honestly, I'm...admirable of your newfound viewpoints, and wish I could as easily incorporate them into my own life as you seem to have in yours. I have a lot of trouble moving on. It's nice to have some sort of guide for that." Natasha smiled and sat beside Jay, holding his hand. "...we should hang out more," she said, "I could really use a friend." Jay smiled and nodded, "I couldn't agree more." After they finished their soda, they both got up and headed back to the car so he could drive Natasha back home. Once there, he helped her pack together the second box, and then a third smaller one, they made plans to get lunch together and then Jay went along his way, leaving Natasha to herself. She spent the remainder of her afternoon doing things around the house, things she'd been somewhat neglecting to do. She filled the dishwasher, she did some laundry, some general cleaning in various rooms, and then she sat down on the couch and she looked at the purple sweatshirt. Holding it in her hands, feelings its fabric and texture against her skin, she knew what she should do with it. *** The day Stephen left, Natasha curled up on the floor of her bedroom - thankfully Violet was at school - and screamed until her lungs hurt. She wrapped herself in the purple sweatshirt as it was the only place she felt safe anymore. It held all these beautiful memories, and she needed those memories then more than ever to console her in this time of great distress. After a while, she fell asleep on the floor, her head resting against the balled up sweatshirt. When Natasha awoke, she went downstairs, made some coffee, ate some eggs and then thought about what to do with her life. Should she even bother telling her parents her marriage had just ended, and, even worse, because her husband had run off with her own sister? God, she'd likely never see any of her family again, only because of the awkwardness that would ensure from such an event. Natasha headed back up the stairs and froze in the doorway to her bedroom, staring at the wadded up sweatshirt now sitting on the ground in front of her. She waited a moment, then she picked it up, hung it on a hanger and placed it inside her closet, where it had remained since. *** Violet was sitting on her bed that night, headphones on, when Natasha entered the bedroom. Violet pulled her headphones down around her neck and looked at her mom, who sat on the bed beside her. Violet turned to face her, a look of concern on her face, but Natasha smiled at her. "How was your day?" she asked. "It was okay," Violet said, "How was yours?" "Same, okay. Donated a lot of boxes of old clothing to the station for the charity drive and stuff. Um, that's actually why I wanted to talk to you for a moment, if you don't mind. When I was going through some clothes, I ran into this old sweatshirt I found. It was a favorite of mine, and I brought you home from the hospital in it." She handed the sweatshirt to Violet, who took it and immediately liked the way it felt against the skin of her fingers.She pressed it against her face and rubbed gently, making Natasha smile. "...I was so happy that day, I couldn't even remember a life without you suddenly. Felt like I'd never even had one, really. You were born prematurely, and so we hadn't settled on a name. We'd come close on a few, but none of them ever really stuck the way we wanted them too. But then, looking down at you, the little body of my favorite person swaddled comfortable in my favorite sweatshirt, it dawned on me to call you Violet, because of the color." Violet looked from the sweatshirt to her mom and raised an eyebrow. "I'm named after a sweatshirt?" she asked, rather flatly, making Natasha crack up. "Yes, I know, I know, I'm sorry," she said, "It just...it felt right. I know it isn't the most creative way to come up with a name for your newborn child, but...you were both important to me. I want you to have it now. It gave me a lot of comfort and good memories, but I think it's best if it moves on to someone who really deserves it. Who's been with it just like I have." Natasha put her hand on Violet's face and lightly brushed her cheek. "You are my favorite person in the whole world, and that was my favorite piece of clothing in the whole world, so it only seems right to stick you two together," Natasha said, "You won't make me upset or anything if you don't want it, I just thought I should-" But she didn't even get to finish. Violet threw her arms around her mom and hugged her tightly. Natasha, taken somewhat by surprise by this act of physical affection, hugged her back and smiled, shutting her eyes. It's amazing sometimes what joys and pleasures the simplest things can bring to us, she thought, and how it's our duty to pass that on to others. Violet pulled the sweatshirt on and zipped it up, then pulled the hood up over her head and smiled, making Natasha laugh. "Will you help me with my homework?" Violet asked. "Of course," Natasha said. So they sat there, the three of them, mother, daughter and sweatshirt, and did their best to keep one another afloat in a world fraught with cruelty. Sometimes, Natasha realized, she appreciated the sake of being a Simple.
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Public Access follows Natasha Simple, a self qualified "self help" instructor with her own show on local public access. But when she makes a sudden and surprising statement on air, her entire life changes, for the better...and the worse. Archives
December 2022
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