1

Red Dressed Girl

By Robert Foster

I press my hand firmly on the glass and lean forward. It’s dark and my bare feet grow

cold on the pavement. I gaze at my reflection and see a girl with brown hair tied in a red ribbon

which matches the color of her dress. Short, stained, and fairly simple, the dress reminds me of

the time Mom and I went Christmas shopping. I came across it as we were shopping at our

favorite store. Mom would always say that Walmart was the best store for Christmas shopping. I

would ignore her usual rants on the high-prices and continue to eat my McDonald’s hamburger. I

was never interested in the random things Mom would buy at Walmart, I was just pleased I got a

free meal each time we went. However, unlike most yearly trips to Walmart’s Christmas sale, I

came across the red dress. It was loosely hanging in the men’s section, an awkward place for

someone to throw back teen clothing I thought. It seemed to have been the only one left in the

store. I insisted on trying it on, and with much joy Mom took me to the dressing room. In the

mirror, I twirled around and smiled at myself in it. The dress was simple and dropped down just

shy above the knees. Mom, just by looking how I was acting in it, knew that I wanted it;

although, I had mixed emotions about it while leaving the store. I don’t like red, or dresses, but it

was the first piece of clothing I ever got to pick out for myself. I would always get random

clothing from my parents for my birthday or Christmas: Jeans, long-sleeve t-shirts and the odd

hand-made sweater grandma would sometimes give me. I hated it all. I wore the dress every

Sunday to church. The dress was not made of silk but you would think it must have been after

Mom was done washing it. I was glad I did choose the dress for myself and not let some random
 2

Christmas sweater crawl into my cabinet again. Short, red, and clean—the dress was mine. Now,

it’s just a reminder of the time Mom was alive.

***

I continue to stare at my reflection. We trade smiles and then I slowly look down to

examine my dress; short, red, and stained with mud. The pale face I had been staring at through

the glass for some time begins to cry. Why is she crying? I decide to stare at my crying self and

begin to remember the reason I came here. Through the glass, resting in the shadows lays the

jaguar. I take a step back, while gazing at the glass where my reflection is no longer. I’m left

with myself, regarding the sleeping jaguar. I wipe the slowly freezing tears off my face and move

closer to the cage, placing both hands upon the glass. The lone beast, I sought forgiveness from,

breaths softly and the sounds of his purring vibrate through my small palms. I would do

anything to apologize for what I did, and talking to him might be my only way out. The thought

of his execution tomorrow causes me to spasm and I drop to the ground, landing on my knees

straight into a puddle that only recently appeared by the rain. The jaguar never meant to hurt me,

he was scared; and now, so am I. I search for my reflection but it seems lost within the void.

This pounding dread and sadness reminds me of the day I made my mistake…

It was a night like this; dark, cold, and wet. I was admiring the new animal until I spotted

something unusual inside the cage. I slowly bent down and slipped my arm through one of the

many breathing holes at the bottom of the glass. I stretched my arm out reaching for a stick. My

arm started to hurt as I pushed my shoulder through the hole in hope to grasp the branch. It

reminded me of the time I was to reach through a crack in the bat cave in search for Dad’s work
 3

keys. He would drop them in there whenever he was to clean the guano of the rocks. I always

had small, yet long arms.

Whenever things, like Dad dropping his keys, would happen; I was called to action. It

was the most I would ever do around here. Dad never liked it when I was around when he was

working. It was probably because I would remind him of Mom. I would always get comments

from strangers that say I looked like her. They would continue to explain how they knew her but

I would ignore them. Dad would never say I couldn’t work with him because I reminded him of

Mom but I can tell by his face it was the real reason. His made-up excuse would just be a long

explanation that I am too young. The thought of Mom makes him sad. Dad is the type of guy that

keeps his emotions in, but I would occasionally catch him in his room crying on his bed

alongside a picture of Mom. Dad’s disapproval of helping around the zoo allowed me to make

many friends; although, the animals never spoke back.

I got to go anywhere around the zoo, considering my Dad owns the place. Well, we own

the place. Dad would always tell me that one day I will be the owner, but his breath would smell

of alcohol whenever he spoke of it. Doing kid stuff wasn’t easy. I would sometimes pretend I

was a student whenever there were school trips to the zoo. I would slip in the crowd of well-

dress students and try to make everyone believe we were all friends. One time I nearly convinced

a teacher I was her student and I got to ride a yellow bus. Dad was not happy. My Dad never

liked school; it was one of the rare topics Mom and Dad would argue about. Mom was a high-

school teacher and Dad was a drop-out; what a funny mix. Dad pulled me out of school when

Mom passed away. My Dad tried to home school me but I learn more from the animals around

the zoo. Anyways, about that night I made the “mistake”…

 4

I eventually grasped the branch and with an extra stretch I managed to poke the unusual

object. As I examined the shiny object I heard something strange. The leaves inside the jaguar’s

cage began to rustle and I stood still. The jaguar paced itself around his den. I slowly dropped the

branch and forgot about the object; which was just a soda can. While pulling my arm out it was

then the jaguar attacked. I was in the hospital for a month, and it’s because of my lie that the

poor jaguar is to be put down.

***

After reflecting on the past I decide to get up from the wet floor and lean my hands

against the glass again. As I rise I notice my bandage did not follow. The wrap quickly uncoiled.

I cradle my wound fast before the cold air could reach it, but I’m too late. A sharp pain runs

through my arm as if alcohol was being applied. I try to coil up my bandage but my reflection

caught my attention. The image of the red dressed girl appears. She’s crying but not in the way

how I felt. Her eyes seem gentle and each tear drips carelessly down her cheek, without any

squint of her face. The sound of crickets and the hum of the LED lights fills my ears. I begin to

focus on the jaguar’s breath. Like a baby, his breathing was calm and peaceful. I start to close

my eyes and pace my breathing with his. His innocent purring reminds of the lie I told my Dad

while in the hospital…

***

While in the hospital I didn’t have many visitors. Dad was the only one that stayed with

me, along with the thought of Mom. From time to time the doctor or Dad would ask me what

happened that night. It took me weeks to come up with a decent lie. I told Dad that when I was

with the jaguar that night, it lashed out through the breathing hole and swiped me. I was worried
 5

whether that lie would work or not, but it was a better story than what actually happened. The

truth of me putting my arm in his cage, reaching for the soda can, would only sound foolish,

especially to Dad who is an experienced zookeeper. With great surprise Dad believed my story

of the jaguar lashing out; however, I did not intend for the cat’s death. I tried to reason with Dad

after my stay at the hospital but I was torn between my silly reputation and the execution. I told

him that the jaguar doesn’t deserve death but he would explain each time that he doesn’t want a

ravenous animal in his zoo that might attack anyone. My lie was too far at this point and would

only make manners worst if I told him the truth; Dad already planned the examination…

***

The thoughts of my faults causes me to let go of my wound. The slash starts to bleed and

I do nothing to stop it. While looking at my reflection I hear something very familiar. Adagio,

the clarinet concerto by Mozart was softly playing from the zoo’s speakers. I open my eyes and

lose myself in the music. The jaguar’s breathing fades and I smile. Robert must be working

tonight. Being a security guard is a boring job. I remember that time Mom took me around the

zoo during Robert’s shift. That was when I met him. That night I recall Mom bringing Robert the

entire collection of Mozart’s Best for him to listen to. Like Mom, Robert is a talented musician.

Mom always led choir at church, which I was forced to join. Mom always noticed that I never

enjoyed choir, but she insisted I learned the art of music. Robert would sometimes come and play

during Christmas, but only to please my Mom. Mom always got along well with him. Dad, on

the other hand, never liked Robert. I’m surprised he allows him to work here still. Dad always

thought Mom was cheating with him, but that was never true. Mom loved Dad and I don’t think

anything could have broken that bond, except the car accident. Maybe if we were Jewish like

Robert, Mom would’ve never got hit.

 6

Robert, every year, would invite us over to his place for Hanukah, but Mom would never

go. Instead we went to church. That afternoon, on our way to the Christmas service, Robert

called Mom and asked if we were coming by. I’ve only been to his place once and from what I

remember I enjoyed it. Robert has two sons, who are younger then I am. Although Robert’s

house was one of the few places that I had friends, Mom did not want to go and we continued

our walk to church. It wasn’t because Mom hated Robert, it just so happened that we would

have church any time Robert would invite us over. I recall being upset and I distanced myself

from Mom for the remainder of the walk. While crossing the street it all began to happen in such

a rush. First Robert then Dad showed up, along with many other strangers who got out of their

cars. I remember lying on top of her, closing my eyes and whispering prayers to a God I just

started to question. My red dress, which I had on at the time, became stained and torn as I

hugged Mom for the last time.

Mozart’s music stopped. I wish another song would play. I slowly sit down on the wet

pavement; grabbing my bandage and winding it up over my wound. As I look at my reflection I

notice another image creeping up behind me. I stood still and did not turn around. Watching the

figure get closer through the glass I notice it was Robert. I hardly recognize him with his bald

head and gray beard. As he got close his flashlight blinded me and the light caused my reflection

to flee.

“What are you doing back here?” He asked, lowering his flashlight. I said nothing and

looked away. “You shouldn’t be out here this late. Your Dad is probably worried about you.”

“I don’t care.”
 7

Robert slowly sat beside me. I back away and did not make eye contact. I like Robert, but

I just want to be alone.

“Is there something a matter?” He asked, moving closer to me.

“No.”

I stated; however, I could tell my answer was not convincing.

“Tell me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

I close my eyes and pretend none of this is happening. No more jaguar, no Robert, no wound,

only Mom.

“It’s Okay.” Robert says, most likely noticing I started to cry. He moves closer and wraps his

arm around me. I don’t move and I leave my eyes shut, thinking how all things would be if Mom

was around.

“I miss her too, you know.” Robert began to explain. “Your Mom, she was the best friend I ever

had. She helped me through many things. Was thanks to her I still work here.”

“No. It’s because of Dad.”

I state.

“Yes, you’re right. Your Dad allows me to stay here too.”

I can tell I caught him off guard but that did not stop him from talking.

“All I want you to understand is that your Mom was loving towards me and my family, and of

course, to you. She may be gone, but her daughter has the same size heart.”
 8

“No I don’t.”

I said, causing Robert to hold me tighter.

“I’m worse, and it is because of me that this jaguar is getting put down. Mom would never kill an

animal.”

I open my eyes, wipe the tears off my face, and look at Robert.

“Don’t say those things.”

“It’s all true, it’s my fault, not the animal’s,”

I begin to explain,

“I put my hand in his cage, thinking Dad’s keys were in there. All I wanted to do was to help out

Dad, but I bothered the jaguar.”

“Why didn’t you tell the truth?” Robert asked.

“I don’t know. I didn’t want Dad to think that his daughter was that foolish.”

I explained. There was a short silence, and the jaguar’s breathing remained still.

“You know, if your Mom was here, you know what she would say right about now?” Robert

said. I knew the line, but allowed Robert to continue to say it. “She would say ‘you’re enough,

you’re so enough, it’s unbelievable how enough you are.’ You know what that means?”

I nod my head and hug Robert.

“I can’t do this any longer, Robert. I just want her back. These lies and fantasies I created were

never supposed to end like this. Help me.”

 9

I collapse on Robert’s shoulders. Robert picks me up and we walk away from the cage. I look

back and with one last look at the glass I see my reflection. I stop and smile at the red dress girl.

She smiles back. My dress is damp, short, and red. A memory of Mom. I feel the silk and follow

Robert out of the zoo and back home.