I figured now would be a good time to give her my birthday gift. I don’t know why she’s so impressed; I didn’t exactly have a lot of notice, so I just dug out one of the half-finished denim clutch purses I’d pieced together from my bin of sewing projects and completed it last night. All it took was sewing in the snap buttons—tedious, but not too difficult—and then cutting and sewing on the shoulder strap. I didn’t even wrap the stupid thing, just stuffed it in a gift bag with some tissue paper.
Whatever. I’ve only known the girl for less than a week, I figured I’d already put in more effort than anyone would rightfully expect.
“I love it! Homemade gifts are my favorite,” Asha says, examining the little purse more closely. “I can’t believe you made this! It’s so cool. You’ll have to teach me sometime.” She turns to Sam, beaming. “Isn’t it cute?”
“Adorable,” Sam agrees. He’s looking at me as he says it, eyebrows raised like he’s impressed but doesn’t want to show it too much.
Somehow that look makes me feel like I’ve passed a test I didn’t even know I was taking.
day seven
Sunday is my most relaxing day of the week. I don’t have to deal with a million people expecting me to talk. I don’t have to explain myself to anyone. Mom is mostly out of the house, working at the store, and Dad camps out in front of the television watching sports. I use the time to finish reading Of Mice and Men, which turns out to be just as awful as I thought it would be. I hate stories with dead puppies. So depressing.
After I’ve finished the book—well, after I’ve thrown it across the room—I spend some time at my sewing table, digging through my big bin of various fabrics and old, abandoned projects. I’m terrible at finishing anything; what I try to sew never looks the way it does in my head, and I end up ditching most of my work with the intent to pick it up again later. Except then I get distracted by a new idea, and the vicious cycle continues anew. Asha’s purse was the first project I’ve completed in months.