Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
My sister stands up so she can see herself in the floor-length mirror mounted nearby.
“Those wedges are to die for, Charlotte,” my mom says with a little gasp.
“Aren’t they? Look at how long they make my legs.”
“I think they’re a must,” my mom says with a sharp nod.
I bend down to grab the box and flip it over to check the price. I nearly swallow my tongue.
“How are you going to pay for those, Charlotte?” I ask, showing her the tag just in case she hadn’t seen it herself. Even on sale, they’re wildly expensive.
She reaches over and yanks the box out of my hands with a roll of her eyes. “If I knew you were going to be such a downer, I wouldn’t have let Mom invite you.”
My mom sends me a chastising glare. “Elizabeth. Rest assured, I haven’t forgotten our situation. It’s all I think about, so please forgive me if I want to have one day where I pretend everything is normal.”
I don’t have a response for that because I do feel bad for her on some level. I’m sure her day-to-day is nothing compared to what it once was, and maybe there’s no harm in trying on clothes and shoes and pretending nothing’s wrong. Just for a day.
I move some shoe boxes off one of the chairs and take a seat. It’s obvious now isn’t the time to get into it with Charlotte about her lie, so I try to put on, if not exactly a happy face, at least a moderately pleasant expression.
After an hour, we move from the shoe department over to the designer clothes. Since I don’t really have any interest in shopping the sale myself, I’m designated as the “Here, hold this” person. My arms are laden with shirts and jeans and dresses as the two of them make their way through racks of clothes in record time.
Every now and then, I chance a peek at a price tag and try not to audibly gasp at how outrageously expensive everything is. Three thousand dollars for a jacket. Another thousand for glorified sweatpants. I keep telling myself they’re only trying things on, dwelling on that delusion because I don’t want to continue raining on their parade.
“Miss, would you like me to take those from you? Sorry, we’ve been absolutely flooded today,” a sales associate tells me as she reaches to collect everything in my arms.
“Oh, sure. Yes. Thank you.”
“What’s your name? I can start a dressing room for you.”
“Our items are all mixed in there,” my mom tells her.
The sales associate smiles. “That’s fine. Why don’t I set you guys up in a large dressing room and you can go in together?”
“Perfect,” Charlotte says with glee.
This is truly her idea of the best day ever.
The pit in my stomach grows more the longer I stay in the store. My carefully crafted delusion starts to fissure and crack each time my mom or Charlotte agrees something is a “must buy”.
I try, in vain, once more to remind them of reality. “Mom, you have enough clothes. Seriously, do you really need another jacket?”
At that, something snaps in her.
“Enough, Elizabeth!”
I jolt in surprise as heat floods my cheeks. My mom doesn’t usually raise her voice. She’s used to getting her way with guilt, so for her to outright yell at me…well, it shocks me enough to zip my lips from that point forward.
I trail behind them as they check out, looking away from the register, not quite caring anymore what they decide to spend on their shopping spree.
“Now, let’s see your apartment,” my mom tells me once we’re out on the sidewalk again, loaded up with hefty shopping bags.
She turns to me, all smiles now that she’s riding the high of consumerism.
I stop dead in my tracks, wearing a deer-in-headlights expression. “What?”
“Yes.” She nods. “Let’s see your place. I’m exhausted from being on my feet all day. We can order dinner in and relax for a bit before we drive home.”
“Oh, that’s not…don’t you want to beat traffic?”
“I don’t mind. I haven’t seen you in ages, and I’d rather not rush home.”
Oh now she suddenly wants to spend quality time with me.
The valet pulls up to the curb with her Range Rover before helping us load their shopping bags into the trunk.
Charlotte takes the front seat so I slide into the back after hesitating on the curb. Then my mom turns back and looks at me expectantly.
“Didn’t you say your place is in Tribeca? Charlotte, pull up the address on Google Maps so we can find the quickest route.”
“Mom, I just…I really need to get back to work,” I say, still trying to avoid the inevitable.
“We won’t stay long! Just a minute.”
Short of saying no outright, I’m left without a choice.
The only saving grace is that Walt won’t be home. Even while sick, he was already gone from the apartment when I woke up this morning. I didn’t expect anything less from him considering it’s a work day. I’m sure he showered, popped some Tylenol, and got on with his life as if he was just fine.