Remember the Brocade Dress

She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling somewhat guilty and somewhat excited. She should not be here, and certainly not with him. But she couldn’t help it. She felt at fault because she had taken every last bit of her money from working at the mills, and even some of her mother’s.

Eileen had used it to buy the beautiful brocade dress she was now wearing. It swirled around her ankles just right, and set off her wonderful figure by framing her sturdy yet delicate shoulders. Her flaming Irish hair, which had once been tied up in a glamorous knot, now flew wildly from side to side as she waltzed. She was aware that most of the eyes in the place were on her and Tim, wonderful Tim.

It was perhaps by chance that she had met him. Eileen’s father had immigrated to America almost a year ago, and he had saved up enough money for Eileen, her mother, and two brothers to make the voyage also. This left the O’Lowens almost penniless. Immediately upon arrival in America her brothers had been put to work in a shoelace factory, and Eileen and her mother in a clothing mill.

Eileen’s hours were hard and long and the pay she received from her efforts wasn’t near what she deserved. Still, she kept three pennies for herself at the end of every week and stored them under a floorboard in the room she shared with her mother. The other seven went to pay the rent of the tiny tenement they boarded in.

Eileen had lately begun to challenge the new country’s credit as the land of opportunity. They worked hard, ate little, and purchased only necessities. Was this the opportunity they had traveled miles of water and land to seek? She hoped not.

America was nothing like Ireland. New York was polluted from the many factories and their boardinghouse was dank and musty. It was a crowded and dirty city. Eileen longed for home. Home, where there were rolling green hills and fields full of golden potatoes, hidden from view until harvest. She’d give anything to return to Ireland.

For the longest time, she had spoken to no one at the mill but her mother, whom she rarely saw. There was no reason to. Certainly, if the boss caught them, it would mean a dock from their already insufficient pay. One day, though, she introduced herself to a girl who looked to be of her age and nationality, with the same flaming red hair. This girl, Kathleen, then introduced Eileen to some of her own friends.

For weeks Kathleen had been coaxing Eileen to cut loose, for Eileen was endlessly complaining about the many burdens she carried. There was a dance hall which opened every Friday night, Kathleen said, and entrance was only five cents. Eileen had pushed it aside for awhile; but temptation had finally overcome.her.

After periodically taking money from her mother and with what she stored from her work pay, she had saved enough to buy a bargain dress. With a little perfume and the handicraft of a needle and lace, the dress was as good as new. Earlier that night, Eileen informed her mother that she was going to Kathleen’s house. Once at Kathleen’s, they had crept through the dark alleys of New York, trying to keep their dresses from dragging the ground.

As soon as Eileen entered the dance hall, a sense of spontaneity overwhelmed her. The atmosphere was gay and lively; all sorts twirling and dancing and drinking and laughing. Immediately Eileen felt free. She walked up to the first young man she saw and tapped him on the shoulder, asking him to dance. He turned around and Eileen saw that he was quite handsome.

He was Irish, like her, his namesake permanently stamping the trials they had went through in his memory forever. Tim O’Connell, the son of a wealthy couple by the name of Fran and Brigitte O’Connell. He went to an official Irish university, and was studying to be a doctor. Unlike most Irishmen, he did not have the Irish fondness for liquor, and had kept himself toxicated as they danced and swirled. Eileen was glad she hadn’t ordered a drink, for it was the dancing that made her intoxicated. Or maybe it was the closeness and warmth of Tim. Through more discussion, she learned that though he was wealthy, they had many of the same feelings and beliefs.

For awhile, she had enjoyed being in his arms so much that she’d forgotten about what she’d done to get there. They talked for what seemed like an eternity, the conversation flowing as they compared their homelands and shared of their family lives. Then, however, at the sight of a woman who looked much like her own mother, the guilt washed over her. She abruptly pushed away from Tim.

“It’s getting late,” she announced, removing his hands from her waist, slender and lithe. “I must return home.” She turned and swept away from him, pushing through couples in romantic dazes, drunks looking for a fight, and single women such as herself tearing away from their newly-found loves, much like Cinderella had done.

“Wait,” Tim said, following the path Eileen had created on the dance floor. “Will you come back here? Will I ever see you again. Eileen?”

Eileen stopped. “I don’t think so,” she said sadly. “I told you about my mother.”

“I could rescue you and take you away from all of that,” Tim said. “You wouldn’t have to worry about money, food, or clothing. We could move out to the country and live in a cozy cottage much like the ones in Ireland,” he promised. “Just me and you.”

Eileen’s resistance began to fade. As she closed her eyes, she pictured leaving her family. Her, in paradise, while they suffered. Tim, his beautiful face, his wonderful ideas, his glorious ambition. She took one step forward. Them, or him?

Then she quickly shook her head and backed away from the tempting offer. She fled from the dance hall, images of Ireland and the cottage Tim had promised. She had just met him. He hadn’t even said he loved her before inviting her to move away with him. If she had went, just like that, without telling anybody, what would her family have done?

Back at home, she snuck upstairs quietly. Stepping over the floorboards that creaked, she pulled her dress off and stuffed it in the back of her tiny closet. It was non-refundable. There was no way to replace the money she had borrowed, to undo what had just took place. How close had she been to just leaving all of her hardships and marrying Tim?

Too close, she decided. She would keep the beautiful brocade dress in the back of her closet, so that every time she opened it she would think about the terrible mistake she’d almost made.