A few weeks had passed since Tifa started living with Jessie. They were still new at being friends, and newer still at sharing the cramped one bedroom apartment. Tifa had nowhere to live in Midgar and no money, thankful for Jessie's offer to share when Barret introduced them. They got on well, Tifa still adapting to city life in halting steps, Jessie filling in detail and explaining as needed. Though often quiet, Tifa spoke wide-eyed of just how much Midgar contrasted with her remote mountain home. She was was reluctant to talk about it, even the inference of it had derailed an early conversation about Tifa's past. Jessie took pains to skirt the subject now, discussion becoming easier as time wore on. They found little things in common, answering and asking questions for each other with few omissions.
Yet something was always troubling Tifa, and not just the subjects she refused to comment on. She suffered irregular but persistent headaches, back-aches and always looked pained during the day-time. At first Jessie put this down to the murky events that landed the girl in the city. From what Tifa had admitted, Jessie knew she had suffered both head trauma and some other injury in the recent past. Continuing to suffer headaches was not surprising; not least when she refused point blank to go near any of the hospitals. But there seemed to be more to it than that, something that made Tifa more and more uncomfortable as the day went on.
Tifa was in the habit of removing her bra in the early evenings each day, removing it without undressing. She always sighed with relief as she pulled it out from under her shirt, her expression lightening. Jessie did not dwell on the habit; maybe Tifa was just more comfortable that way. Her friend got dressed in the bathroom, a habit Jessie found herself mimicking out of consideration. It was no problem and she did not dwell on the causes, thinking no more about it until it was her turn to do the laundry. A bra had escaped the tangled mess of washing and Jessie noticed that it was not one of hers. Her first thought was that it was Tifa's, but a closer look made that implausible. It was too small for her friend's frame and chest. It must be someone else's picked up by accident in another wash load. Flinging it in the rest all the same, she made a mental note separate it out when the washing finished, but soon forgot all about it.
Three days later Jessie came home and found Tifa stripped to the waist, wincing as she peeled her bra away from her skin. Her friend's fingers rubbed at the reddened lines encircling her torso. A basket of washing was by her feet. Jessie remembered both that it was Tifa's turn for the laundry and that she had told her she would be late this evening. Tifa jumped at the intrusion, hands and arms clasped to her chest as she turned away. Jessie turned on her heel in the same moment, looking away from her friend, thoughts racing with what she had seen. "Sorry!" she called, worried at Tifa's reaction.
"No, it's okay. My fault," Tifa said, sounding breathless. There was rustling behind her and the sound of clothes pulled on with haste. "It's okay now." Jessie turned back to find Tifa wearing an over-sized t-shirt and looking flushed. Tifa dithered for a moment and ducked her head, abandoning the pile of washing and walking with quick steps to the bathroom. Her roommate sank onto a nearby chair as she heard the lock click into place and tried to put her thoughts in order. Tifa was wearing the wrong size bra. It was that same piece of underwear she had found in the wash. She focused her thoughts on this, trying to avoid thinking about the other thing she noticed, but it would not leave her thoughts.
The scar. It seemed the worst of the wound had healed but still left its mark on her skin. A white line started beneath her left clavicle, running down between her breasts and across her belly. More specifics escaped her, the sight fleeting and too much of an invasion into her friend's personal space. Jessie doubted she could help with the scar or the events that caused it; not least given Tifa's reluctance to ever speak of it. But, Jessie realised, she could at least help her roommate with her underwear. She wondered how to broach the subject as the toilet flushed, a still red Tifa peeking out the bathroom a moment later.
"Are you okay?" Jessie asked. Tifa nodded, venturing out into the main area. "I'm sorry I walked in on you."
Tifa shook her head, perching on the furthest chair from Jessie. "It's not your fault. I was just being lazy."
Jessie swallowed, hoping this was the best way to broach the subject. "Tifa, before I- ah. Well. I couldn't help but notice-."
"Please," the other girl pleaded. "I-I'd really rather not talk about it. My past and..."
Jessie interrupted. "No, no. I mean your bra."
Tifa looked at her in surprise. "My... bra?"
Jessie nodded. "I think it's too small for you."
"My bra is?" Tifa seemed unable to comprehend this revelation, looking to the basket of washing, still sat where she left it.
"Definitely," Jessie confirmed. Some of Tifa's nervousness seemed to leech away and she no longer looked like she would bolt at a moment's provocation.
"But, I always wore this size," came the reply, Tifa glancing down towards her chest.
"And has it always been uncomfortable?" Jessie asked. Tifa paused a moment before nodding.
"Well a little. It got worse as I got older. And I had to get all new clothes here... I thought..."
"Tifa; bras should not be uncomfortable. Did your Mom never take you to get measured?"
Tifa's face fell and her voice became lower. "My Mom... She passed away when I was young."
"Oh... I... I'm sorry." Worry now ran through Jessie. Tifa shook her head.
"It's okay. You didn't know." She fidgeted. "There was never much in N-. In my home-town and my father..." She trailed off, staring into space for a moment. Jessie was about to speak when Tifa shook herself and continued. "He took me to get measured and hated it. There was only one place in town to go and it was a guy running it. Dad just hovered over him the whole time and just made him was so nervous he was reluctant to go anywhere near me. And afterward Dad basically forbade me to go back without him, and he was so busy and just wound up buying me new bras on his way home whenever the old ones wore out. I never got measured again."
"Even when your boobs got bigger?" Tifa's eyes widened in surprise, and Jessie wondered just how conservative Tifa's father and home had been. A flush rose to Tifa's cheeks.
"I did have to a few times. But I was never sure what I was doing and I was so worried about my father finding me there, or someone else telling him, I was always rushed and just got something a bit bigger than before."
As much as she wanted to say something, Jessie held her tongue with comments about Tifa's father. His mention has fazed her and seemed also bound up with her mysterious past. Better to concentrate on the present and the things she could help with. "My point stands though," Jessie said. "You're not wearing the right bra size and it's doing you no good at all. It's probably making your headaches worse."
"What size should I wear then?"
Jessie looked at her hunched form again, the t-shirt eclipsing any specifics. "I'm not sure sorry. But we can find out."
"C-could you... help me?"
Jessie smiled back with as much warmth as possible. "Of course. Though I do have to warn you we're best off measuring you without anything on your chest." Tifa's back stiffened, her face worried and Jessie held out a comforting hand. "It's okay. I'll tell you what to do so you can measure yourself in the bathroom. Then tomorrow I'll take you shopping. My treat."
"Jessie... I..." Tifa swallowed and her lips quirked into a faint smile. "Thank you."
Jessie smiled back, trying to decide which store would be best to visit. Given Tifa's concern over her wound it made much more sense to not leave Tifa to the hands of some brusque sales-assistant. And she would best to go for something plain; the scar might still be sensitive. Jessie retrieved her tape-measure and wrapped it around her chest, indicating where to measure. Tifa nodded, watched with care, her eyes widening at intervals.
Jessie perched on the sofa as the red-faced Tifa scurried into the bathroom with pencil, paper and tape measure. Tomorrow they would go shopping and should be able to make Tifa's new day to day life just a little bit more comfortable for her. She pushed the questions about the scar out of her mind. Tifa was lucky to have survived whatever had caused that. Jessie wondered how it connected to leaving the home she did not want to speak of and arriving in this city she knew so little about. Maybe one day they would talk about it, but Jessie was in no hurry to press for answers.