I am HER... (33 page)

 
I don't remember it like this with my mother, then again, I was usually just focusing on her words and moods and agreeing to whatever or whomever she was talking negatively about at the time.
  Choosing a couple cute t-shirts, and casual tops, plus 2 knee high skirts, I head for the fifth floor.  Oh!  This is a very cute hat.  It has a large brim and even flowers and feathers.  It's perfect for the beach, or for a wedding, or for
anything
in England.  Oh!  This is a much cuter hat.  I have to have it!  Jeez… my arms are getting tired, and my back is killing me. Why are there no shopping carts in here?  Ha!  Probably because women could use them as weapons if need be.

 
Yay!  Now I’m onto the shoes.  After the escalator drops me on the fifth floor, I just stop and take in the sight of the heels, and the smell of all the leather.  Most women love shoes, but I
LOVE
them.  I
need
them.  High heels are the only things that keep me from being trampled.  Shoes give me the height needed to survive.  Like right now.  If I wasn't wearing these particularly painful 4 1/2' heels, these women might simply step over me to get to all the incredible heels.  Why the hell is everyone in New York so freakin’ tall? 
Survival of the fittest? 
Probably.
  Shit.  There's a major sale today, so it seems everyone is grabbing, reaching and shuffling each other to get what they want.  I see security in place, and I almost want to ask for assistance shopping.  Oh, I can’t help my giggle.

 
And then I see my shoes.  I will knock any bitch on her ass to get them.   These are them.  I HAVE TO have them.  I LOVE them.  I’m done.  These are high-heel heaven.  They are beyond gorgeous.  They are
MINE!
   Just like that, these heels reached out and smacked me in the face. 
Hello babies… mama’s here.
  Walking to find the change rooms is somewhat challenging, but once there I eventually convince a Sales Associate on the fourth floor to take pity on me.  She agrees and allows me to change in the slightly more secluded wheelchair accessible room after I promised to vacate immediately if the room is needed.

 
I don't really want catty women watching me, or judging me.  The Sales Associate seems to understand my reservation, especially since I’m struggling with the huge bundle of clothing in my arms.
  Just as I close the door, and finally exhale, my phone rings and its Z with perfect timing. Dumping all the clothes, and my fabulous pair of shoes on the large couch inside my awesome change room, I quickly answer.
  "Hi.  How's your day, dear?"  That sounded so cute.  I love asking Z that.
  "Um, good.  Where are you?  I called the house, but you didn't answer.  Are you okay?" 
  "Oh, yes.  I’m completely okay.  I'm shopping at Macy's on Broadway, and it’s crazy here.  I came on major shoe sale day, so the women are a little scary."  Giggle.
  "I can imagine.  How long do you think you'll be?"
  "Not long.  I'm just trying on all the clothes now.  Why?  Do you miss me?” 
Please,
miss me.

 
"Of course I do.  I’ve found myself thinking of you non-stop today.” 
Really?
  “Its 3:15 and I'm done for the day, so I thought I’d meet you there.  Maybe we could have an early dinner?" 
  "SURE!" Ooops, tone it down.  "Sure.  I'm in the change rooms on the fourth floor.  I think I'm going to try to leave with the clothes on, if I like them."
  "What?  You're going to pay for them though,
right?
" 
Duh.
  "Yes, of course Z.  I just meant I would ask the Sales Associate to cut off the tags, so I could PAY FOR THEM, and wear them out.  Women do that, you know?"
  "No, I didn't.  But that's good to know.  I should be there in twenty minutes. Have fun."
  "Okay.  See you soon.  I hope you like the clothes...”  I whisper as I hang up.

                                
==========

  Hurrying, I'm frantic to be dressed and changed by the time Z arrives.   Though my back is a constant agony, I could care less!

 
The slacks and one skirt are a giant NO! Ick.  They are major weight adding clothing- as if I need that.  A few of the tops are adorable and user friendly, for sure.  I don't look extra heavy in them.  The dress is stunning, and it fits well.  I hate all the blouses but 2 of them.  And the high heels are to die for.  They are a stunning display of grace and height.  I don't look short in them at all.  I’m like an awesome Amazon woman or something.  I love them!
   Asking for help, I’m dressed and all the tags are removed and ready for purchase when I finally leave the change room. The Sales Associate is looking at me a little strangely, but I think she’s just a little jealous because the awesome shoes look so good with my new outfit.
  Leaving the change room area, I’m told that it’s 'standard procedure' to be escorted by security to the check-out, when buying and wearing the clothes outof the store. That makes sense
,‘
cause people steal stuff all the time. 
  While walking, I talk to the security guard who is escorting me to the check out.  He offers to carry my old clothes and heels, my other new clothes, and the tags for the clothes I'm already wearing.  He even lets me hold his hand as we walk to pay for my items.  I'm so excited; I want to kiss him for being so nice.  I can't wait to see Z.
  When we get to the check-out room, another woman joins us.  Reaching in my purse, I smile and hand over my American Express.  This is awesome.  I haven't done this in years.  Sure, I buy clothes, but it's usually one item at a time, and one week or even one month at a time.  I can't remember the last time I bought a bunch of clothes at once.  Ooops, pay attention.
  "I'm sorry?"
  "Mam, would you like us to call anyone for you?"  Why?
  "No, thank you.  Z is meeting me here.  He’s probably looking for me by the change rooms on the fourth floor.  Um, Mr. Zinfandel."  Little giggle.  "Honestly, that's his name.  Mr. Zinfandel.  You could page him if you like.  I don't know his first name though."  Oh, that's bad.  What the hell
IS
Z's first name?  “Maybe it's 'glass of' or 'bottle of'... I really don't know, but who has the last name
Zinfandel
anyway?  Honestly, you could page him.  Please, go ahead."

 
I'm feeling a little giddy but shaken suddenly.  I haven't eaten since yesterday, and god knows shopping should be classified as an Olympic sport.
  "Would you like us to page him?" 
  "Yes, please.  I'm sure he's here already."

 
And then there is just silence.  What the hell?  Just do it already. "Jesus! Just page him!  He'll be here in a minute."
  Why is she so quiet?  I can’t handle anymore silence. Ugh, I HATE this bitch.  Stop staring at me!

                                 ==========

 
However long later, there’s a knock on the door.  Jumping up quickly, I strike my best pose for Z.  When he opens the door, he looks shocked, and then smiles at me.  Oh, thank god.  He likes my clothes, I think.
  "Do you like my clothes?  I'm buying them for you because you like color." Please, like them!
  "You look beautiful, Sweetheart.  Have you paid yet?"
  "I gave my credit card... Have you rung it through yet?"  The woman shakes her head, but my security guard smiles kindly at me.  I really like my security guard.  He’s just so kind.
  "You've been so nice to me, like Z is.  Can I hug you? 
Please?
"  He looks at Z for a second then nods.  Thank god.  That would have been embarrassing if he’d said no.

 
Walking over to the security guard, I whisper, "What's your name?"

 
"Brian, Mam."

 
"That's such a nice name, for such a nice man.  Thank you for not being mad at me Brian."
  "My pleasure, Mam.  What is your name, if I may?"
  "Sweetheart."

 
And leaning in, I give him my very best hug.  Wrapping my arms around him, I squeeze tightly and rest my cheek against his chest.  He even squeezes me back.
  "You are just so
good,
Brian.  Do you have a wife?"
  "Yes, Mam."
  "Do you hug her like this?"
  "Yes."
  "Oh, Brian, she’s so lucky.  Would you tell her for me please?  Would you tell her she’s very lucky to have someone hold her like this?  I’ve never had that before, Brian.  No one’s ever held me or loved me before, and it’s really nice."
  "Yes, Mam, I'll tell her."  I can't let go of him.
  "Please call me Sweetheart.  It's better.  You're so warm Brian, but I should go now.  Can you charge my credit card now?"
  "Yes, Sweetheart."  Finally, I let him go.

 
"May I give you a little thank you kiss Brian?  Nothing bad or dirty, I promise."
  "Absolutely, Sweetheart."

 
And then I kiss his lips gently.  Just for a second.  Nothing slutty or inappropriate- just a chaste little kiss.  And I feel so happy, I think I’m going to cry a little, but luckily I blink and hold the tears in.  Wow.  That was close.
  "Thank you, Brian."  And turning from my nice Brian, I walk over to Z.  "Are we ready to go?"  I ask while taking his hand.
  Nodding, Z hands over his credit card to the ugly woman, and smiles at me.  I hear her.  She says something weird, and then Z nods.  How much of my 'Rainy Day Fund' did I spend?
  "What was the total please?"  Z slightly shakes his head but...
  "4,388.46," she says in return.

 
I see Z shaking his head at her again. I think he's being sneaky.  Why?  What's he doing?
  "What?  I'm sorry?  How much did you say?" 
Seriously?
  "Everything’s fine, Sweetheart.  We have to go though.  I want to change quickly at home before dinner.  Okay?"  Oh. 
Dammit.
  "But I'm already ready.  I made sure I was good for you.  You wanted to go for dinner from here, so I got dressed here for you.  Let's just go to dinner,
please?
"
  "I would really like to change first.  I hope you understand.  You look so beautiful- I want to dress up too."
  "What? 
Why?
  You look very nice, very professional… and
really
sexy, too." Did I just
purr
at him? 
Cool.
 
  "Why, thank you.  But I just really need to freshen up a little.  Please understand." 
  "Sure.  But can we hurry?  I think these shoes are going to kill me soon.  Oh!  Do you like them?  Please like them.  They’re FABULOUS!”

 
Winking at me... Oh,
how cute
, Z whispers, "Yes, I
love
them."
  "Okay.  Let's go then.  Thank you again, Brian.  You made me very happy today.  And
you
-
YOU’RE
FUCKING MEAN
!"  I scream at the ugly woman. Startled, she jumps, as Z tugs my hand to leave.  Did he just apologize to her?  I really,
really
hope not.
  Once we leave Macy’s, Z hails a taxi immediately.  Once inside, he pulls me into his arms and gives me a tight hug.  Oh, he feels so good.  I love his warmth.  Z is like so warm and clean or something.  I don’t know how to explain it.

 
Breathing into my hair, Z asks, "How are you Sweetheart?"
  "I'm very good.  I love your hugs, you know?  I really hope you do like my clothes.  They’re special for you."  I can’t help my blush. 
  "I do, very much.  You look stunning."

 
I see the taxi driver look at me in the rear view mirror when Z speaks.  "Do you think I look nice, mister?"  He looks at Z, then back to me, and then nods without a word.

 
"Wow.  That feels so good, Z.  No one ever notices me or thinks I'm good.  I only like it when you're happy. Oh!
ARE
you happy?"  Shit.  What if he isn't?
  "I’m very happy, Sweetheart.  We're almost home, would you like to rest while I quickly shower and change?"
  "Oh, god no!  I feel so excited.  I can't wait to go out."  I'm almost bouncing in his arms.
  "Okay.  I'll hurry then," he says into my ear with a light kiss on my temple.

 
When we arrive, Z walks me quickly into the building, and into the elevator wrapped tightly in his arms.  I feel so happy here, it's going to be awful when I have to go back, I just know it.
  "I'm going to be really sad when I have to go back."
  "Who says you have to go back?"
  "I'll have to.  They'll make me," I whisper quietly.
  "Well, let's not think about that now.  Could you try to be happy for a little while?"
  "I
AM
happy... That's what makes me so sad."  Huh? “That made sense, right?”