FOOLS GET LUCKY
(a fiction by Cella)
My trip to the mall had fast become a big waste of effort. I had searched three department stores, tried on a few things that came close to what I wanted, but nothing was just right. I was so discouraged. I told myself that if I couldn't find something at this store, I would give up and go home. As I waded through the seemingly-endless racks, I noticed that all the clothes were beginning to look alike.
"May I help you with anything?" a melodious tenor asked behind me. It startled me a bit - I didn't expect to hear a man's voice in the ladies' department.
I turned around. I couldn't help but note his nametag first, since he was a foot taller than me and it was right at eye level. Clayton. I looked up. "Well, actually I'm looking for something specific, and I usually just know it when I see it."
"I see," he smiled. "What exactly are you looking for?"
His friendly smile distracted me a moment. He wasn't hard on the eyes. Cute, in a classy-nerdy sort of way. Quite skinny - he could stand to gain a few pounds.
"Well...I'm going to Vegas to see a concert, and since I'm packing light, I'm looking for one great blouse to wear."
"Really? Who are you seeing? Celine Dion?"
I was mildly hesitant to answer. Even after all these years, you'd think I could get rid of that last little shred of embarrassment. "Well, no. I'm seeing Barry Manilow."
A bit of recognition showed in his eyes. "Oh yeah, I think I heard something about that. Aren't you a little young to be seeing him?"
I chuckled inside, admitting to myself that he wasn't too far off the mark with the comment. Hey, at least he didn't make fun of Barry...yet. And it was flattering, but I dismissed it. After all, he was a salesman.
"Oh, no, he's picked up a few of us young-- younger ones over the last 30 years. I've got second-row tickets."
"Second row," he smiled. "So you want to look good for Barry."
"Well...yeah," I blushed. "But still, it's Vegas! I need one nice blouse I can also party in or wear to a nice restaurant. Maybe something a little flashy. I'll just know it when I see it."
"Is there a certain color you have in mind?"
"Since it's fall, I'd like to find something, maybe in a pumpkin color - a dark orange, or maybe closer to brown."
"But you're open to other colors?"
"Yeah, sure, so long as the blouse goes well with a pair of dark blue jeans and suede boots."
"Blue," he repeated, then smiled wide. "I think I have just the blouse for you. Stay right here - I'll be back in a minute." He disappeared and I went back to scanning the clothes in the area.
A minute turned into four or five. I had just started to wonder where he had gone when he reappeared. It didn't look like he had anything with him.
"Sorry that took so long. I knew I had seen it, but it took me longer than I thought to find the rack it was on."
"That's okay, I'm not in a hurry." I noticed that he was glistening a bit. Did he run around the entire floor just to find a blouse for me?
Clayton brought his arm around from his back. "Well, here it is. How'd I do?"
How come I didn't notice that one before! I reached out to touch one of the lacy, gathered sleeves.
"I know it's not really a fall color," he continued, "more like winter, I suppose, but I thought... Here, come over to the mirror." He touched my shoulder blade and pointed me toward a large mirror just outside the fitting rooms. I sure didn't expect this level of service, but I wasn't complaining.
He held the blouse up between me and the mirror. "Wow. That looks really good with your complexion and the brown in your hair and eyes. What kind of color do they call it? It's not like a baby blue..."
"It's Ice Blue."
"There you go. Women are so much better with color names. I think Barry would notice you in this!"
"You think?" I smiled.
"I know I would," he replied.
I laughed and lightly smacked his arm. "You know, you don't have to work that hard for the commission!"
Clayton suddenly got quiet. In the mirror, I saw his glance drop to his feet. I felt awful. Me and my big, stupid mouth!
"I'm sorry. That was a pretty crass thing to say. I really appreciate all your help. I don't ever remember when I've had such a great salesperson. You should be working for Saks or some other high-end store."
His green eyes peered over his tortoise-shell glasses and into the mirror. "I don't work on commission. As a matter of fact...I work in the men's department downstairs. I'm on my lunch break."
I was speechless. A million questions dove into my thought stream, trying to process just what was happening here. "Huh?" I exhaled.
"I was on my way out of the store for lunch when I saw you...and I couldn't help but... I thought you knew I was..."
"What?"
He smiled and shook his head. "You don't flirt very often, do you?"
Man, I didn't even want to think about how long it had been since I flirted with a guy, much less the last time a guy flirted with me. "Well...apparently it's been long enough that I'd need a sledgehammer to know," I admitted. "So...this blouse? Was it just...a prop?"
His eyes again went from playful to serious. He pulled the blouse toward him and stood up straight. "Absolutely not. I've passed by it on my breaks the last few days and thought it was pretty. But, they must've moved the racks around last night and it ended up being on the opposite side of the department. I really wanted to find it for you. I'm sorry if I bothered you. I'll let you get back to your shopping. I'll put this back on the..."
I grabbed his arm as he turned away. "No. Please, don't go. Please, Clayton?"
He stopped and looked at my hand. It was then I realized how strong I was holding him and let go.
"Clayton. That's a pretty formal name. Do...do you usually go by Clay?"
He finally looked at me again. I over-smiled, trying to act cute. "How'm I doing? Am I flirting okay? God, am I so rusty at this."
The toothy smile that lit his face - just, wow.
"Only my mama and the customers call me Clayton. My friends call me Clay. And yes, you're doing fine."
"I'd really like to try the blouse on."
"You don't have to."
"Yeah, I do...'cause you're right about it. I have to see if it fits."
"I'll grab you another size if you need one." He handed me the blouse, then gasped when he noticed the time on his watch. "I take that back. Lord, is that the time? I have to go."
"You do? You can't wait around another couple minutes to see?"
"I wish I could, but I'll be late if I don't go right now." He shuffled sideways.
"But, you didn't get any lunch."
"I'll grab some potato chips from the vending machine. I have to go." Suddenly, he knocked his entire right side into a column, momentarily breaking his pace. He grimaced and grabbed his arm.
"Oh my God, are you okay?"
Somehow without looking, he continued his shuffle around the column. "I'm fine...I'm fine...gotta go..."
"Is it okay if I come down there in a little while?"
"I'd like that," he smiled. He massaged his arm as he ran toward the down escalator.
Man, how did he know? I wondered to myself as I stared into the dressing room mirror. If it looks this good with these jeans, it's going to look fabulous with my "rock star" jeans and boots. Dammit, how did he know? Maybe I should call him The Blouse Whisperer, I mused as I pulled out my debit card.
I took longer getting to his department than planned. Finding the blouse excited me so much that I ended up at the jewelry counter, searching through the earrings...and then at the perfume counter. I had a renewed excitement about my trip. Yeah, that's it. I feel attractive and excited because of the trip. Right...it has nothing to do with him.
While at the perfumes, I felt guilty again about Clayton not having something to eat, imagining his stomach rumbling in front of a customer on account of me. I walked across the mall to the food court. I realized that I didn't have a clue what I was doing. I don't even know this guy and I'm buying him lunch? But, it's the kind thing to do since I insulted him and nearly made him late. Potato chips? That's not filling for the next four hours. I stared up at all the restaurant signs. If I get something hot, it'd smell up his department, and that's not appropriate. It can't be messy, like a salad. Man, what if he's a vegetarian? What if he doesn't like mayonnaise...or mustard...or ketchup? I darn near couldn't decide, and then I came up with a unique solution.
I could easily see him across the department, over the racks of menswear. He was helping a customer with a suit, so I kept my distance and waited for a quiet moment. Naturally, he was alone on the floor – typical retail – so as he helped the customer, I also saw him scan for waiting customers. As he did, my mind played with the thought that maybe, just maybe, he looked for me once or twice. After he rang up the sale, I made my appearance and got that great, toothy smile. It had only been a little over an hour since we first met, but...it sure felt good being with him again.
"May I help you with anything?" Clayton playfully said.
"No, but I think I've got something here that can help you," I replied, holding up a small paper bag. "You're not lactose intolerant, are you?"
"No, but I am allergic to a few things." He peeked into the bag. "You went to Yogurt Tree? What did you get? A smoothie?"
"Well, yeah, but not just any smoothie. It's a large..." I pulled out the receipt. "...Power Nutrition Smoothie. It has orange juice, pineapple juice...bananas...vanilla frozen yogurt and multivitamin powder. I figured this should get 'ya through your shift."
"No nuts?"
"No...no nuts. Just what I told you. I watched her make it."
"Okay. I trust 'ya. That was very thoughtful. Thanks." He looked at the cup, then into the paper bag. He turned it upside down and shook it. "Uh..."
"What?"
"Did they give you..."
"Oh! Sorry. Yeah, I got one. One sec." I pawed through my purse and pulled out a long, fat straw, wrapped in white paper.
He lifted the drink and the bag. "Could you help me with it?"
"Oh, sure! Yeah, your hands are kind of full, aren't they?" I pushed down and let the top of the straw tear through the wrapper. Before I could reach for the tip of the straw, Clayton's neck craned down. He took the straw tightly between his teeth and pulled it the rest of the way out of the wrapper. He stared at the lid and made several attempts to poke the straw through it. I have to say it was quite amusing! He finally managed to poke it in on the fourth or fifth try and made a little triumphant noise.
"You know...you could've just let me put the straw into the drink."
"True, but that would've been the easy way to do it!"
"Yes, and heaven forbid guys do anything the easy way."
That pearlescent smile reappeared. "For guys, the hard way is always the best way."
I smiled and shook my head. Unfortunately, I'm way too rusty to attempt a witty comeback.
He drew a long sip from the chilly cup and made a pleasant little moan as he savored the flavor. He swallowed then took another long swig. He smiled at me then suddenly frowned, pressing two fingers between his eyebrows. "Oh, Lord. Brain freeze."
"I knew it! You really are hungry. I bet you've got a bruise the size of Texas on your arm, too. You guys with your macho ways. 'No, I'm fine. No, I'll just get some chips from the vending machine.' Yeah, right, that's filling."
"I didn't even get to the vending machine," he admitted. "Thank you for this."
"Well, thank you for helping me find the blouse."
He scanned the department for customers as he took another long swig. "I never did get the chance to ask you your name."
"It's Miranda."
He smiled with the straw between his teeth. "Miranda. That's a pretty formal name. I mean, it's a pretty name, but it's also a formal name. Do your friends call you Andi?"
"Actually, a few old friends from high school still call me that, but these days I like to go by... I'm embarrassed to say it."
"Why?" Clayton asked as he continued to guzzle down the filling drink.
"Because...I'm a Barry fan and all. I swear, it's not because of the song. Well...maybe it is, just a little."
"Huh? I don't get it."
"Don't make me sing it."
"Sing what?"
Okay, obviously not a big Manilow listener.
"Wait. I think I got it," he continued. "Mandy?" he squeaked.
I nodded. My name never sounded so sweet.
"Well, Miranda...now that you've bought me lunch and all, I want to pay you back."
"You don't have to do that. It was the least I could do since I kept you from eating."
"No, really, I insist I make it up to you."
"No, really, it was my pleasure. You don't owe me anything."
He looked at me over those glasses again. "Miranda. Flirting? Do I need to go in the back and find a sledgehammer?"
"Oh,” I blushed. “You must think I'm an idiot!"
He chuckled. "I don't. I'm accustomed to patiently working with people. So...there wouldn't happen to be...anyone special in your life that would...prevent me from asking you to dinner, would there?"
I quickly pondered the last six months. "There was...but not anymore. I guess it's only fair to tell you up front. My divorce will be final in about three weeks, so technically, I'm still married. My...ex...and I...we've been separated since April. We don't have any kids."
He was quiet; he even stopped drinking. There's your "out" if you want it, Clayton. I'd understand. The longer his silence stretched, the more convinced I became that he'd take the out.
"So. Are you saying that...it's too soon for you...you know, emotionally...to start dating again?"
What? "No, I...I just thought I'd let you... No - I mean yes - I mean..." I took a deep breath. "I...I grieved for my marriage a long time ago. Now...well...I'm looking forward to a new life once the final papers are signed."
A slurp sounded from the cup. He gave it a shake and took one last, noisy sip.
"Did that fill you up?"
He touched his stomach. "I think I drank it too fast. So...I'm off on Mondays and Tuesdays."
"You mean, you still want to?"
"Of course I do," he smiled. "See, you've got to know something about me, too. I, like you, just know it when I see it." He shifted his weight and looked right into my eyes. "And Miranda...I see you."
I think I stopped breathing! I mean, how often does a girl get to hear something that fabulous?
"Now, for as scandalous and exciting as it sounds to go out with a married woman, how 'bout the first Monday or Tuesday after those papers are signed, I take you to dinner...to start that new life out on the right foot. That is, unless Barry sees you in that blouse, falls madly in love and begs you to move to Las Vegas first."
"Yeah, that's true," I said as I slid a bit of hair behind my ear. "I do have my priorities."
"There's my supervisor," he suddenly whispered, then gave a small wave to an older woman, who nodded in return. "Keep walking, keep walking," he said under his breath. He scanned the department again and spotted a couple looking at the dress pants.
"I don't want to chase you away, but I've got to help those people."
"Oh yeah, I understand. I worked in retail before; I don't want you to get in trouble."
He went to the cashier stand, grabbed two store business cards and a pen and began scribbling. "Here's my phone number and e-mail address."
I took the card. "Clay...Aiken? That has a nice ring to it." He handed me the pen. Over my shoulder, he watched me write my name and phone number.
"Miranda Williamson-Thomas. Is that your married name?"
"Uh...actually, it is," I said as I crossed out the hyphenated portion. "Sorry. Force of habit. I guess it's about time I go back to just my maiden name." I stared at the card a moment longer then scratched out my name entirely. "Oh, hell," I exhaled as I scratched one word, then handed it to Clay.
Mandy.
"That's better," he smiled. "That sounds less like a lawyer and more like...someone who was nice enough to help feed a total stranger." He reached out for my hand. I reciprocated, but instead of a handshake, his other hand covered mine. He stared at me in a strange, but really cute way - one eyelid hung lower than the other. The next thing I heard surprised me. You'd think it would've been totally cheesy, but instead, it was quiet and sincere.
Oh, Mandy - well, you came and you gave without taking. But I sent you away, oh Mandy...
"That's all I know," he said with a hint of apology.
Dang. "You, uh...you did just fine." Wow. For a few moments, I felt the world around us disappear, but then he looked up again, toward the couple still by the pants. I also noticed another man walk into the department. "I should let you go."
"Will you call me when you've signed the papers?"
"Sure. But don't let that stop you from calling me? You know, just to say hi or something?"
"I'd like to do that very much.” He surprised me again when he leaned down and kissed my cheek. “Have a safe trip, Mandy," he whispered.
"Thanks, Clay."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Please be home, I begged to the ringing phone.
"Hello?"
"Clay? Uh, hi. This is Miranda. Mandy? From the mall?"
It had been about ten days since our meeting; I had no idea if he'd still want to hear from me. I felt so much better when I heard the happy tone in his voice.
"Mandy, hi!"
"I hope I'm not calling too late."
"You're all right. Actually, it was really good timing; I got home from work about ten minutes ago. Are you back from Las Vegas?"
"Actually, no, I'm still here."
"So, are you calling to tell me that you and Barry eloped and you won't be coming back?"
I had to giggle. "No, dammit - but he winked at me at the concert! I have a witness! My girlfriend saw him do it. I still can't believe it happened!"
"Well, I certainly can! I told you he'd notice you in that blouse."
"Yeah, you did. Anyway, um, there is a reason why I'm calling. Remember what I was waiting for? Well, they showed up in my mailbox just before I left town. It was a lot earlier than I expected."
"They did? Are you doing all right?"
"Well...as soon as I got here, I forced myself to look them over, and, I didn't expect to feel this way, but it really hit home. I felt... I really shouldn't dump this on you.”
“Really, it's okay. It might make you feel better.”
“Well. I felt a little sad, and a little foolish, and a lot like a failure. When I got married, I never believed that I'd ultimately be a statistic, but the truth was just sitting there on the table, waiting for my signature."
"I'm so sorry, Mandy."
"Thanks. Anyway, I signed the papers, put one of them deep into in my suitcase and mailed the other one back to my attorney...and then...I had a good cry."
"You know...I'd understand if you felt you weren't ready to..."
"But, see, that's the thing. After I was done crying, I felt better...and then I felt free. It was my last one. It's over and I'm ready to move on. 'Ready to take a chance again', as the song goes. But, Clay, are...are you sure about dating a...divorced woman?"
I could hear the smile in his voice. "Well, now...let me see. What day do you get back?"
"Saturday, the 15th, late."
"Then how about Monday the 17th...dinner at Lindsay's Grill...pick you up at six."
I smiled and brushed a tear off my cheek. "I'd like that very much."
"Great. And be sure to wear the blouse. I promise I'll do more than just wink at you."
-----------------------
~Posted 3.13.2006~
Please post any comments or questions on my Guestbook:
Sign My Guestbook / Read My Guestbook
Or, you can email me at marcmarc2@yahoo.com.