A New Inspiration

Macy Day pulled on the cold steel handle of her refrigerator door with a sigh. She looked at the nearly empty inside of it, thinking about how she herself felt pretty empty too. Her hands fumbled around for the first thing they could find and then grabbed onto it without a second thought. That was the best way to get through life, Macy believed, without thinking too much about things. Because, as soon as you started thinking too much about things, you’d end up one big terrified mess.

“Mace? Are you okay?” a voice sounded from behind her. Macy turned around, so startled that she almost dropped the salad dressing in her hand. Okay, salad dressing is not going to be a proper meal and you really should start paying more attention to what you are grabbing. Macy shook her head, refocusing her mind on the person in front of her instead of her silly thoughts. It was her husband, Harold.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I’m fine, why?”

“You looked like you were a worlds away, what were you thinking about?” he asked her as he rounded the counter and approached the fridge. Macy stepped out of the way before responding.

“Oh, nothing. Just trying to come up with some ideas for the new collection.”

“Oh yeah, how is that going?”

“It’s, well, going, I guess. Honestly, I’m lacking inspiration. It's just… this collection needs to be something unlike anything ever seen before, something bigger, bolder, better, than anything ever seen, but I just can’t seem to find any inspiration for it.”

“You should talk to our daughter. Jessie has all sorts of interesting thoughts in that little head of hers.”

“Her thoughts are indeed quite… colorful. But even if I did go to her for help, she wants nothing to do with me or my job.”

“You never know, maybe she's changed her mind.” Harold said as he pulled out a garden salad. He then pulled the dressing from her hands and proceeded to make the salad. “Anyways, you hungry? We can split this if you want.” Macy swallowed and shook her head no, then proceeded to lie through her teeth.

“No, I already ate and I really gotta go get started on this collection.”

“Oh. Okay, no worries, it’s fine.” Harold said, but something in his voice said that it wasn’t fine. Because things weren’t fine between Macy and her husband. Nothing about them was fine. The conversation they just had was the longest they’d had in weeks. Of course, they were both extremely busy people, with Macy being a world famous fashion designer and Harold having an important position in the biggest technological company in the world, but that was completely besides the point. The point was that they hadn’t really, truly been a couple since they first married. Macy couldn’t even remember what love felt like anymore and she often felt as if she lived alone rather than with her daughter and her husband.

Her smart black heels clicked loudly on the shining marble floor, the only sound in the whole mansion, as she walked to her room. She quickly pushed the door shut behind her and sunk to the floor the minute it was closed. Tears streamed freely from her eyes as she sat there. They definitely weren’t streaming of her own accord, Macy absolutely hated crying. She quickly wiped them away and raced to a nearby mirror. She stared at herself in the mirror, not recognizing the person staring back at her. Her own blue eyes, normally sparkling and vibrant with life, looked empty and cold with smudges of black eyeliner and mascara smeared underneath. Her sleek black hair, always styled to perfection, was coming loose from its updo and small, messy curls framed her face. She hated her naturally curly hair, it was messy, unpredictable, and so hard to control. Her normally perfectly polished crimson red nails, currently clinging to the vanity, were starting to chip. Macy was falling apart, both inside and out. Stupid, this is what happens when you think too much, you end up one big mess.

“Mom, are you in there? Dad said to ask--” Jessie trailed off as she swung the door open. “Mom, are you… crying?”

“No, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.” Macy said, wiping her eyes as she did so.

Jessie rolled her eyes. “Right, of course, how silly of me to think for even a second that that you actually had feelings.”

“Jessie I can’t deal with this right now, I have too much to do, just head to your room now please.”

“Mom--”

“Jessie, I said now!”

“Fine.” Jessie stomped heavily out of the room, slamming the door so hard behind her that Macy could hear it vibrating long after she left. Not of her own accord, she sank to the ground yet again. Macy was usually so good at controlling her emotions, but lately it seemed she couldn’t control anything, not even herself. She would not let the sadness consume her, she would stay strong and she would focus on the collection like she knew she needed to. Macy stood up, brushed herself off and proceeded to walk through the door in her room that led to her office. Her office was as empty as her refrigerator was--it was a pale white space sparse of much decoration besides a small artificial plant in the corner and the mannequin dress form that she sometimes used if she created something here, but she mostly did the hardcore artsy stuff at her work office. Her desk was black and spotless, devoid of any clutter. The only objects on her desk were her computer, the latest and greatest one from her husband's company of course, her sketchpad and pencils, her favorite pair of scissors, her tape measure, her jar of colored pearl headed pins, and her sewing machine. Most of the objects on her desk, like the mannequin dress form, were rarely used, the only thing she really used being her sketchpad and pencils. She sat in her desk chair and flipped the crisp pages of the sketchpad until she found a blank one. She grabbed a pencil and willed a design to come. Nothing had come to her all day though, and still nothing came. Macy hung her head in her hands and sighed in exasperation.

Loud, blaring music then suddenly started to sound throughout the house. Macy groaned, annoyed even further, She stood to her feet, smoothed down her dress, tucked back as much of her hair as she could, and quickly wiped away the smudges of mascara and eyeliner before finally exiting her room. She began to move through the house, knowing exactly where the boisterous noise was originating from. As she walked to her daughter's room, Macy became lost in thought. She could imagine the models walking onstage next Saturday, but what she couldn’t imagine is what they would be wearing. Normally inspiration came so easy for her, but this time she was having a severe creative block that she had no cure for. Jessie’s door was wide open, presumably because she was trying to annoy her parents with the loud music on purpose. Macy walked in and opened her mouth, completely prepared to yell at her daughter when everything changed.

Macy couldn’t explain what it was that happened in that moment, the only word she could think of to truly describe it was simply inspiration. But not inspiration like anything she’d ever known before, it was a completely different, crazy, daring sort of inspiration. Macy watched her daughter sitting there, her hair illuminated by the sunshine filtering in through the windows, hanging down around her face in messy, haphazard black curls, a pencil tucked behind one ear and a journal that she was scribbling furiously in with a different pencil in her lap, her animated green eyes that perfectly matched her father's completely focused on the paper in front of her and completely oblivious to the world around her. For the first time Macy actually took notice of what her daughter was wearing. Many times before Macy had tried to offer her daughter designer clothes but Jessie had always turned them down and found her own clothes instead. Jessie was wearing a loose brown sweater the color of cinnamon that hung loosely off her shoulder, a pair of ripped dark washed jeans, and a comfy, casual pair of brown combat boots. She looked so completely normal, so utterly boring and simple that she was interesting, fascinating, and unlike anything Macy had ever truly looked at or thought of before. All of her previous collections had been top notch, absolute perfection--not a strand of hair out of place on the models, not a smidgen of eyeshadow not blended to perfection, not a single loose thread on her designs, not a shoelace out of place--but maybe this new collection shouldn’t be perfect and flashy, maybe it should be normal and relatable for people everywhere.

“Mom? Care to explain why you’re staring at me like that?” Jessie’s voice shattered through Macy’s thoughts and Macy blinked rapidly, the designs slowly starting to appear in her head.

“Jess--You’re a genius! You’re absolutely brilliant!” Macy cried out before rushing to her daughter and pecking her on the head. Macy then raced out, bolting back to her own room. Jessie poked her head out, watching her mother leave, utterly confused.

About ten minutes later, Harold and Jessie Day stood in the doorway of Macy’s office, watching her silently as she worked. Harold finally decided to break the silence.

“Mace, is everything okay?” he asked. At his words Macy spun around, her eyes dancing with glee and triumph.

“Everything is absolutely wonderful dear! I’ve finally found inspiration for the collection!”

“Oh, that’s wonderful, Mace. Can we see?” Harold asked. Macy blinked--her husband and daughter were actually taking an interest in her designing. This was definitely new.

“Of course, here, take a look.” Macy watched as they flipped through the few pages she’d done in the past ten minutes.

“Wow, mom, these designs are awesome. They’re so simple, but somehow still so different and unique. I mean, even I would totally wear this stuff.” Jessie gushed.

“Seriously Mace, I’m a guy who’s not into fashion but you even have me intrigued. How did you come with this stuff?” Harold questioned. Macy smiled knowingly.

“I just realized that sometimes inspiration is much easier found than you’d think. And sometimes… Inspiration can come from places you’d never expect or think to look.”

“Well, we’re proud of you Mace. Hey, what do you guys say we all go out to dinner to celebrate?” Harold asked, scratching his head nervously as he did so.

“Yeah, that could be cool, I guess.” Jessie said with a shrug. Macy smiled, a warm feeling filling her body.

“I’d like that very much.”