On any given day one might find the average fifteen-year-old boy playing sports or video games. Some liked even girl watching, as did Ivan, but for different reasons. He had a good eye for style and a talent for designing clothing and costumes. Not wanting to be label a geek or worse, he kept this sewing ability a secret. The only person who knew of what he could do with a needle and thread was best friend, Tia. Ivan admired her bold nature as Tia entertained people with her skill as a clown. The other day on the way home she gave him a one-dollar bill that said, Smile; someone special loves you. She wasn’t going to let anyone tell her that her future career choice was foolish. Instead, Tia chose to follow her passion.
On this blustery day in November, Ivan sat at what had been his grandmother’s sewing machine, hemming a pair of pants for Tia. Standing less than five feet, finding paints that fit had always been a problem for her. Off to one side, pinned to a dress form mannequin was a multicolored gypsy skirt Ivan had designed himself. He loved fabric, with its many colors and textures
Ever since he was ten, Ivan had spent many an hour at this grandmother’s side learning the trade. At first, his parents thought it was a fad, then did all they could to discourage him, but Ivan persisted. When his grandmother passed away last year, it was her wish that Ivan would inherit her machines and sewing supplies. Since there was a large game room built in the backyard and his older brother had moved on to college, his parents had given him permission to take it over. From there Ivan had set up shop. Soon his mother, other family members, and even friends were giving him small repair jobs to do. His biggest accomplishment was the dress he’d sewed over the summer for his cousin’s wedding. Being a big girl, finding a dress that fit turned into a nightmare. When asked, Ivan decided to give it a try. Everyone, including the bride, was shocked at the beautiful gown that had been created.
The next job that had been handed to him was figuring out clothing for another cousin who was disabled. Mentally intact, Brody had to struggle each day to get dressed. Ivan began altering many of his clothing to make the task so much simpler.
Clipping a thread, he got up to hand Tia the pants. Slipping behind the curtain of the dressing room Ivan had created, she tried them on. Stepping out with a flourish, her fuchsia-colored hair bounced as Tia danced around the room. The pants she had on needed to have enough room so she could move freely. Under the baggy clothes she wore, was a tight athletic body. “Perfect,” she cried, raising from the split she’d just done.
“Glad to be of assistance,” Ivan said.
“You think any more about applying for the job I showed you?” she asked, snagging a grape from the plate of fruit his mother had provided.
“No,” Ivan replied. “They just see me as a kid. No one’s going to hire someone my age to mend or alter costumes, even if it is volunteer work.”
“You don’t know unless you ask. My uncle knows the director. The lady they’ve used for years broke her wrist and isn’t going to be able to help them out. They got this big performance coming up. From what my uncle said, they’re desperate. Just go and see. I’ll go with you.”
More nervous they’d make fun of him, Ivan reluctantly agreed. On the evening of the next day, Ivan found himself and Tia standing backstage as people rehearse their lines. It was some kind of comedy centered around the civil war era. The dialogue was quick and funny.
“You the seamstress?” a man asked Tia.
“Do I look like I know a stick pin from a thumbtack?” she asked. “He’s the one you want.”
The man was surprised. “You sew?” he asked Ivan.
Blushing, Ivan answered with a squeaky, “Yes.”
“I was told to show you what we need fixed. Follow me.”
With Tia in tow, the three headed back to a dressing room. A sewing machine was threaded and ready to go. Two long full dresses hung on hooks. One had a long tear in the skirt. Walking up, Ivan examined it. Lifting the skirt out to get the width, he decided how best to fix it. “I can sew this up with no problem, then run a seam down the other side to disguise the repair.”
Instead of answering, the man pointed to the machine. Setting down the box he’d carried in, within minutes Ivan had the repair done, improving the shape of the dress. The other dress was much more difficult. Whoever was attempting the repair had taken several seams apart. Unpinning the sleeve from the bodice, Ivan tried to figure out where to begin.
“Who’s wearing this?” he asked.
The manager called out for a girl by the name Aylssa. The brunette who came back was someone in his English class. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Fixing this,” Tia remarked.
“Boys can’t sew.”
“They can too,” Tia shot back. “Show her.” Nerves had Ivan hesitating. “Come on Ivan,” Tia demanded. “Do your thing!”
The sharp command got Ivan moving. Within minutes he had repinned the sleeve in place. Letting Aylssa go back to rehearsal, he sewed. Calling her back as he adjusted the fitting. By the time the practice was over, the dress was repaired.
“We can’t pay you,” the director remarked. “But your family are invited to any of our performances. I know Molly won’t be returning for a long time. We sure could use someone with your skill. If you’re interested.”
“I am,” Ivan said, for the first time feeling good about his accomplishments.
Excited, Tia danced with joy. As they stepped out of the building, they found Aylssa waiting for them. Dreading his secret was out, Ivan found himself regretting his decision to come. “I like what you did. How much do you charge for repairs? I’ve got this skirt that I love, but the hem is coming loose.”
The next day three other students were coming up to ask about repair jobs, one even asking how much he’d charge to make her prom dress. Unfortunately, as Ivan feared, his talent reached some of the boys in his class. Unable to resist, one of them started taunting him.
To his surprise, three of the girls who were behind him, marched around Ivan to deal with their fellow classmate. “He’s doing something constructive,” one of them barked. “Instead of sitting in front of a TV blowing stuff up.” Then turning to Ivan, asked, “A bunch of us are going to the movies Friday night, then out for pizza. Why don’t you come and hang with us?.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “Maybe even be my date.” The boy who’d been picking on Ivan was so flabbergasted he walked away shaking his head.
At home, Ivan began organizing his list of jobs when his father walked into his work areas. “Going to have to get you a phone,” he said laying a message on the boy’s cutting table. “Purple will do?” his father asked, then shook his head. “Guess your mother and I were wrong about your sew thing.”
“No problem dad,” Ivan said. As his father started to leave, Ivan snagged the dollar bill off the bulletin board he put up. The coming holiday days were going to be hard for his father, without his mother around to fuss over the meal preparations. “I think grandma would want you to remember this.”
Looking at the bill, Chris wiped at the moisture starting to form in his eyes. “Yeah, she would.”
The journey of the dollar bill begins with the blog called Taking Different Paths Released January 2, 2109
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