Rule #9 by Sheri Duff
CHAPTER NINE
Saturday I go to work and Gaby doesn’t send me home because she wants to take a couple of hours off. Finally a chance to get away from everyone. Before she leaves, Gaby heats some oils, and soon the shop smells of eucalyptus and lavender. It’s soothing. During the holidays she heats cranberries, oranges, and cinnamon sticks with some kind of liquid in a mini crockpot. That is my favorite. I used to like the smell of gardenias in the summer, but that was before the stupid wedding. Gaby promised me she will change the summer scent to lilies.
I’m rummaging through a box of earrings when Vianna comes into the store. She’s wearing a navy blue dress with a floral print and jean jacket. And even though it’s nice outside, she’s decided to accessorize with a pair of ankle-length boots.
“You look adorable,” I say. I look down at my outfit, which lacks any originality. White-washed jeans with rips in them, a black-and-white, long-sleeve plaid button-up, and my black canvas tennis shoes.
“I’m going out with Hunter later.” Vianna’s face glows. “Where’s Gaby?”
“Running errands.” I say. As long as I’m working and not ignoring customers, Gaby could care less if Natalie and Vianna hang out. Half the time Vianna does her homework here anyway.
Vianna spins one of the earring towers. “Natalie wasn’t sick last night.”
“What?” I reach for the tower to stop the whirling.
“That’s what she told you, right?” Vianna turns the tower again.
“Yeah,” I raise my eyebrows. Earrings fall off the holder. “Seriously? You’re making a mess.”
“She wasn’t. We saw her at the movies.” Vianna picks up the earrings and places them neatly on the holder. She steps back and examines the tower.
“With who? I swear if she went out with that creep I’m gonna kick her ass. I don’t care about rule number three anymore. Rule number nine, when any of us does something stupid, the other two are allowed to kick their ass.”
“You’re never going to believe me if I tell you.” Vianna sorts through the earrings, placing them together in order of size, beginning with the hoops.
“Try me.”
“Annabelle.” She whispers sweetly while moving the studs together.
“What?”
“Hunter took me to the 3-D version of Beauty and the Beast. I saw them leaving. I ducked down so she wouldn’t see me.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want her to know I was there. Obviously she didn’t want to tell us.”
I can’t focus on the conversation with Vianna reorganizing the earring tower. I worry Gaby won’t approve. Gaby likes the earrings scattered. I should tell my friend to stop. But then again, it will be fun to mess them all up once Vianna is done organizing. It’ll be good for her to see them scattered. Or maybe it will be good for Gaby to see them in order.
“Why would she hide that from us?” I ask.
“She’s probably scared we’ll think she’s weak.”
I nod. “Stupid. You’re right, but it’s stupid. As long as she wasn’t out with Colby I don’t give a shit.”
Natalie barrels into Jillian’s Second Time Around. Simultaneously Vianna and I stop talking. “Hey. What up?” her voice shrieks. Natalie has two volumes, loud and louder—there isn’t an in-between.
“Why’d you lie to me?” I ask. I place my hand on my hips to show emphasis but Natalie doesn’t care. And I’m not really mad.
“What are you talking about?” Natalie looks at Vianna. “You better stop jacking with that tower. Gaby’s gonna throw a fit.”
“Why did you tell me you were sick when you took Annabelle to the movies?”
Natalie doesn’t skip a beat. “I didn’t lie. I was sick. The popcorn made me sick. And yes, I took Annabelle Moo-Moo to Beauty and the Beast. I didn’t think I needed your permission,” she says.
“I’m organizing it, what’s the big deal?” Vianna asks. She continues to organize the earrings.
“Why the sudden change?” I ask Natalie. I grab a hoop from the counter and place it in the center of the studs. Then I face Vianna. “Gaby thinks that if the earrings are scattered people will look closer.”
“Because her nasty skank mother told Moo-Moo that I don’t love her.” Natalie pounds her fist on the counter and earrings scatter.
“I can’t—” I start to say.
Natalie doesn’t let me finish my sentence. “And that bitch also told my little Moo-Moo sister that I would take her daddy away from her.”
Natalie told us that Annabelle and her dad stopped by Pollywog’s for hot chocolate. Once Annabelle saw Natalie, she started crying. Annabelle told Natalie, “My mommy says you want to take daddy away from me.” Natalie sat Annabelle down and told her little sister that they could share the daddy, no problem. Natalie then sent Annabelle to the back to look at the new Pollywog picture that had shown up last week. Annabelle loves them.
Natalie told her dad what she thought of his wife. “Bitch, Dad. Home-wrecking, self-centered, insecure, teenage-wannabe bee-yotch.”
In my opinion, I really don’t think Stephanie is all that bad. Sometimes I think that Natalie takes things the wrong way, and she doesn’t bother to get the whole story. Plus, according to my mom, Stephanie doesn’t want her baby Moo-Moo around Natalie’s mom, and I can’t say that I can blame Stephanie on that one. I don’t share any of this with Natalie. Instead, I listen to her vent.
“I showed up at my dad’s after work. I scored two tickets to Beauty and the Beast in 3-D, because my boss gave them to me for working an extra shift. Stepmommy didn’t like it much when I showed up with the tickets, but I won when I decided to share what Annabelle Moo-Moo said with the skank.” Natalie pats her own shoulder. “I’m so good. My dad couldn’t move Annabelle and me out the door fast enough.”
“Okay, so I thought you were sick of her? Not that it’s bad or anything. I think it’s adorable,” Vianna says.
“It’s your fault,” Natalie points her finger at me. “You and those stupid tea-lid sayings.”
“What?” I slap her finger away from me.
“You’re always reading quote crap to us. It’s got me reading the stupid tea bags at work. After my dad and Annabelle left, this woman came in and ordered a green tea. The damn thing read: “The only remedy to jealousy is love.” Natalie’s voice softened. “All Annabelle deserves is love.”
“She’s right.” Gaby walks up to the counter from out of nowhere, which means she came in through the back door. Today Gaby looks like a woman from one of those posters from WWII, the ones where the woman are part of the blue-collar workforce. Gaby’s ultra-blond hair has a lilac bandana over her curling bangs. He lips are bright red.
“About what?” I ask Gaby, even though I know better.
“About love. If we spent more time loving and less time hating, obsessing, and resenting, life would be so much better. It’s like cheeseburgers. Cheeseburgers make everything better,” Gaby says.
“So cheeseburgers are love?” I say. I really need to stop asking.
“Yeah. We don’t eat fish because we like it. We eat it because it is good for us. We eat cheeseburgers because they’re delicious,” Gaby says.
“So all we need is cheeseburgers,” I sing to the tune of that Beatles song “All You Need is Love.”
“Yep.” She taps her finger on her chin, “I think I’m gonna go for a Seventies look tomorrow…” Gaby turns mid-sentence toward the racks and rummages through them for a new outfit. The perks to owning a consignment store: she can wear the clothes, wash them, and then sell them anyway. “All you need is cheeseburgers, dadadada, da…” Her voice trails off.
Gaby and the Beatles, Gaby and Madonna, Gaby and Gwen Stefani, The Archies, Garth Brooks, Patsy Cline, Mötley Crüe, and other bands I can’t remember. She uses the tunes to make a point. Her comment means more than the Annabelle thing. It’s never that simple. Lately it’s about Alicia, and I really don’t want to hear it anymore.
But I ask anyway, becaus
e she’ll tell me anyway. “What are you trying to get at, Gaby Gandhi?”
“What are you talking about?” She continues to whistle the Beatles’ tune.
“The ‘all you need is love’ crap.”
“Wow.” Gaby pauses. “I said cheeseburgers.”
And this is when my friends slip out of the shop.
Wow always stops me from going any further. Gaby only says Wow when she thinks I need an attitude adjustment. My first week at my new job, I agreed with everything Gaby said. I thought that’s how I should respond to my new boss.
Gaby actually doesn’t like it when I don’t speak my mind. And she doesn’t like it when I grow a little too bold…maybe that’s not the right term. Gaby doesn’t like ignorance, Gaby doesn’t like rudeness, and Gaby doesn’t like it when crap spews out of your mouth without thinking first. Her words, not mine.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” Gaby says.
“It’s never nothing, Gaby.”
“I’m just saying sometimes you need to give people a chance.”
“I’m gonna go redo the window.”
As I’m putting together the new display, my dad calls several times, leaving messages begging me to call him back. His ringtone is an alarm, which, like my clock in the morning, I ignore. I’m at work. What does he expect? I can’t answer the phone. He also leaves a few texts. At least Dad does text better than my mother.
First text: Pls call me
Ignore.
Second text: Dang it Massie– I luv u kiddo
Ignore.
Third text: Really we need 2 talk.
My phone rings again. I still don’t answer it.
Fourth text: listen to ur message
I listen because I can’t leave anything left undone or unknown. I finish every book I start, even if I hate it. The same goes with movies. I’ve sat through too many horrible ones to count. I open every email just in case—I’ve gotten smarter about opening attachments, though. The nasty virus that scrapped my computer cured me. Lucky for me, my dad was still taking great pleasure in his “better parent than Kristin” phase and bought me a new laptop.
I dial my voice mail. I enter my pin, my parent’s anniversary. The day they married—not the day of their divorce.
My father’s voice says, “Massie. I’ve had enough of this shit. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
La tee da for you.
“First, Alicia’s my wife.”
Really? Get to your point already.
“If I want to show her my work before you, I can do that.”
Fine! Go for it—I don’t care! The tears streaming down my face are not for you!
“We saw the flower together. Anyway she closed her eyes. She told me I had to show you first. I made her look.”
Whatever. You would say that. Always taking her side.
“The moment touched us.”
Excuse me. I now need to go hurl.
“I won’t apologize for that. Honey, I love you, and that isn’t going to change. I know I messed up with your mom.”
He pauses.
What? Don’t know what to say now? Yeah, you messed up with Mom. We all know that. Are you just figuring that out? A little too late, don’t you think?
“We both agree that you need to give Alicia a chance. She hasn’t done anything to you.” He pauses again long enough for the recording to stop. I’m sure he had more to say. But unlike my mother he won’t call back.
My father and Alicia both think I need to give them a chance? Really?! Natalie was right. I was thinking about giving her a chance, but I don’t need her telling me I have to do it. I won’t be forced.
I grab a hula skirt and wrap it around the mannequin’s waist. I run my fingers through the dried straw to straighten it and a sliver finds its way into the side of my middle finger. I pick at the slice in my skin as I head to the shoes. How dare Alicia decide what I need to do? Her and her sweet little laugh can kiss my ass. She may fool the rest of the world, but I’m not buying her little performance. I’m sure she’s enjoying pitting my father against me just like Vianna’s and Natalie’s stepmonsters do. I grab a pair of ruby-red snakeskin cowboy boots. I glance at the bathing tops. Gaby only keeps the tops; she tosses the bottoms. I quickly slide through the hangers one by one on the rack of summer tops until I touch a purple halter. I finish the ensemble with a skull necklace, a bulky wooden Catholic Saint bracelet, and a lavender and emerald crochet hat with a bow on it. I stand back to admire my masterpiece.
“Hmm,” Gaby studies the mismatched mess. “You’re finally grasping it.”
“You’re hysterical.” The mannequin looked better yesterday. I know it and she knows it.
“No, really. What made you do this?” Gaby asks.
Great. Now Gaby feels the need to psychoanalyze me. I know that I can’t escape her, so instead I give her what she wants. “The skirt, it resembles the trip that my dad took. Not to Hawaii but his marriage.” Really the skirt was hanging closest to me so I grabbed it. Only Gaby would sell a dead grass skirt.
“Okay,” she says. I know that Gaby is aching to comment but she’ll wait until I finish.
“The halter’s dark purple resembles pain, which reminds me of Alicia, who has taken my dad away, which also crushes every hope that my parents will reconcile. The halter also bears a resemblance to a rope that chokes me out of the picture.” Really I thought the top went with the skirt and since I put on the red boots on it first, I had to find something to match. Purple and red match, don’t they?
“Interesting,” Gaby waits for me to go on.
I take a deep breath and blow it out. “I chose the boots because they were the only red shoes in the store. It’s the Dorothy thing. I want to go home, the home that I had before my dad decided to run off with younger women.” Really, the obvious choice would’ve been flip flops, but I didn’t see any, so I grabbed what caught my eye first.
Gaby looks at the mannequin and then at me. “I’m impressed.”
The truth, there isn’t any rhyme or reason why I had done any of it. I wasn’t paying attention. Anger had spread through my body and I needed something to do so Gaby wouldn’t lecture me and take Alicia’s side. I have enough people doing that lately. Now, to make Gaby happy, I complete the interpretation of my feelings.
“Really, Gabs, I would reason that the piece shows the dysfunction in my life. I can’t discern if it’s winter or summer, beach wear or dude ranch attire. Do I accept the change or do I hang on to the past?”
“You’ve rendered me speechless,” she says. “Wow.”
I run to the counter on write on a small piece of scratch paper: Massie left Gaby speechless. I add the date and then tape it to the side of the register.
Saturday I go to work and Gaby doesn’t send me home because she wants to take a couple of hours off. Finally a chance to get away from everyone. Before she leaves, Gaby heats some oils, and soon the shop smells of eucalyptus and lavender. It’s soothing. During the holidays she heats cranberries, oranges, and cinnamon sticks with some kind of liquid in a mini crockpot. That is my favorite. I used to like the smell of gardenias in the summer, but that was before the stupid wedding. Gaby promised me she will change the summer scent to lilies.
I’m rummaging through a box of earrings when Vianna comes into the store. She’s wearing a navy blue dress with a floral print and jean jacket. And even though it’s nice outside, she’s decided to accessorize with a pair of ankle-length boots.
“You look adorable,” I say. I look down at my outfit, which lacks any originality. White-washed jeans with rips in them, a black-and-white, long-sleeve plaid button-up, and my black canvas tennis shoes.
“I’m going out with Hunter later.” Vianna’s face glows. “Where’s Gaby?”
“Running errands.” I say. As long as I’m working and not ignoring customers, Gaby could care less if Natalie and Vianna hang out. Half the time Vianna does her homework here anyway.
Vianna spins one of the earring towers. “Natalie wasn’t sick last night.”
“What?” I reach for the tower to stop the whirling.
“That’s what she told you, right?” Vianna turns the tower again.
“Yeah,” I raise my eyebrows. Earrings fall off the holder. “Seriously? You’re making a mess.”
“She wasn’t. We saw her at the movies.” Vianna picks up the earrings and places them neatly on the holder. She steps back and examines the tower.
“With who? I swear if she went out with that creep I’m gonna kick her ass. I don’t care about rule number three anymore. Rule number nine, when any of us does something stupid, the other two are allowed to kick their ass.”
“You’re never going to believe me if I tell you.” Vianna sorts through the earrings, placing them together in order of size, beginning with the hoops.
“Try me.”
“Annabelle.” She whispers sweetly while moving the studs together.
“What?”
“Hunter took me to the 3-D version of Beauty and the Beast. I saw them leaving. I ducked down so she wouldn’t see me.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want her to know I was there. Obviously she didn’t want to tell us.”
I can’t focus on the conversation with Vianna reorganizing the earring tower. I worry Gaby won’t approve. Gaby likes the earrings scattered. I should tell my friend to stop. But then again, it will be fun to mess them all up once Vianna is done organizing. It’ll be good for her to see them scattered. Or maybe it will be good for Gaby to see them in order.
“Why would she hide that from us?” I ask.
“She’s probably scared we’ll think she’s weak.”
I nod. “Stupid. You’re right, but it’s stupid. As long as she wasn’t out with Colby I don’t give a shit.”
Natalie barrels into Jillian’s Second Time Around. Simultaneously Vianna and I stop talking. “Hey. What up?” her voice shrieks. Natalie has two volumes, loud and louder—there isn’t an in-between.
“Why’d you lie to me?” I ask. I place my hand on my hips to show emphasis but Natalie doesn’t care. And I’m not really mad.
“What are you talking about?” Natalie looks at Vianna. “You better stop jacking with that tower. Gaby’s gonna throw a fit.”
“Why did you tell me you were sick when you took Annabelle to the movies?”
Natalie doesn’t skip a beat. “I didn’t lie. I was sick. The popcorn made me sick. And yes, I took Annabelle Moo-Moo to Beauty and the Beast. I didn’t think I needed your permission,” she says.
“I’m organizing it, what’s the big deal?” Vianna asks. She continues to organize the earrings.
“Why the sudden change?” I ask Natalie. I grab a hoop from the counter and place it in the center of the studs. Then I face Vianna. “Gaby thinks that if the earrings are scattered people will look closer.”
“Because her nasty skank mother told Moo-Moo that I don’t love her.” Natalie pounds her fist on the counter and earrings scatter.
“I can’t—” I start to say.
Natalie doesn’t let me finish my sentence. “And that bitch also told my little Moo-Moo sister that I would take her daddy away from her.”
Natalie told us that Annabelle and her dad stopped by Pollywog’s for hot chocolate. Once Annabelle saw Natalie, she started crying. Annabelle told Natalie, “My mommy says you want to take daddy away from me.” Natalie sat Annabelle down and told her little sister that they could share the daddy, no problem. Natalie then sent Annabelle to the back to look at the new Pollywog picture that had shown up last week. Annabelle loves them.
Natalie told her dad what she thought of his wife. “Bitch, Dad. Home-wrecking, self-centered, insecure, teenage-wannabe bee-yotch.”
In my opinion, I really don’t think Stephanie is all that bad. Sometimes I think that Natalie takes things the wrong way, and she doesn’t bother to get the whole story. Plus, according to my mom, Stephanie doesn’t want her baby Moo-Moo around Natalie’s mom, and I can’t say that I can blame Stephanie on that one. I don’t share any of this with Natalie. Instead, I listen to her vent.
“I showed up at my dad’s after work. I scored two tickets to Beauty and the Beast in 3-D, because my boss gave them to me for working an extra shift. Stepmommy didn’t like it much when I showed up with the tickets, but I won when I decided to share what Annabelle Moo-Moo said with the skank.” Natalie pats her own shoulder. “I’m so good. My dad couldn’t move Annabelle and me out the door fast enough.”
“Okay, so I thought you were sick of her? Not that it’s bad or anything. I think it’s adorable,” Vianna says.
“It’s your fault,” Natalie points her finger at me. “You and those stupid tea-lid sayings.”
“What?” I slap her finger away from me.
“You’re always reading quote crap to us. It’s got me reading the stupid tea bags at work. After my dad and Annabelle left, this woman came in and ordered a green tea. The damn thing read: “The only remedy to jealousy is love.” Natalie’s voice softened. “All Annabelle deserves is love.”
“She’s right.” Gaby walks up to the counter from out of nowhere, which means she came in through the back door. Today Gaby looks like a woman from one of those posters from WWII, the ones where the woman are part of the blue-collar workforce. Gaby’s ultra-blond hair has a lilac bandana over her curling bangs. He lips are bright red.
“About what?” I ask Gaby, even though I know better.
“About love. If we spent more time loving and less time hating, obsessing, and resenting, life would be so much better. It’s like cheeseburgers. Cheeseburgers make everything better,” Gaby says.
“So cheeseburgers are love?” I say. I really need to stop asking.
“Yeah. We don’t eat fish because we like it. We eat it because it is good for us. We eat cheeseburgers because they’re delicious,” Gaby says.
“So all we need is cheeseburgers,” I sing to the tune of that Beatles song “All You Need is Love.”
“Yep.” She taps her finger on her chin, “I think I’m gonna go for a Seventies look tomorrow…” Gaby turns mid-sentence toward the racks and rummages through them for a new outfit. The perks to owning a consignment store: she can wear the clothes, wash them, and then sell them anyway. “All you need is cheeseburgers, dadadada, da…” Her voice trails off.
Gaby and the Beatles, Gaby and Madonna, Gaby and Gwen Stefani, The Archies, Garth Brooks, Patsy Cline, Mötley Crüe, and other bands I can’t remember. She uses the tunes to make a point. Her comment means more than the Annabelle thing. It’s never that simple. Lately it’s about Alicia, and I really don’t want to hear it anymore.
But I ask anyway, becaus
“What are you talking about?” She continues to whistle the Beatles’ tune.
“The ‘all you need is love’ crap.”
“Wow.” Gaby pauses. “I said cheeseburgers.”
And this is when my friends slip out of the shop.
Wow always stops me from going any further. Gaby only says Wow when she thinks I need an attitude adjustment. My first week at my new job, I agreed with everything Gaby said. I thought that’s how I should respond to my new boss.
Gaby actually doesn’t like it when I don’t speak my mind. And she doesn’t like it when I grow a little too bold…maybe that’s not the right term. Gaby doesn’t like ignorance, Gaby doesn’t like rudeness, and Gaby doesn’t like it when crap spews out of your mouth without thinking first. Her words, not mine.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” Gaby says.
“It’s never nothing, Gaby.”
“I’m just saying sometimes you need to give people a chance.”
“I’m gonna go redo the window.”
As I’m putting together the new display, my dad calls several times, leaving messages begging me to call him back. His ringtone is an alarm, which, like my clock in the morning, I ignore. I’m at work. What does he expect? I can’t answer the phone. He also leaves a few texts. At least Dad does text better than my mother.
First text: Pls call me
Ignore.
Second text: Dang it Massie– I luv u kiddo
Ignore.
Third text: Really we need 2 talk.
My phone rings again. I still don’t answer it.
Fourth text: listen to ur message
I listen because I can’t leave anything left undone or unknown. I finish every book I start, even if I hate it. The same goes with movies. I’ve sat through too many horrible ones to count. I open every email just in case—I’ve gotten smarter about opening attachments, though. The nasty virus that scrapped my computer cured me. Lucky for me, my dad was still taking great pleasure in his “better parent than Kristin” phase and bought me a new laptop.
I dial my voice mail. I enter my pin, my parent’s anniversary. The day they married—not the day of their divorce.
My father’s voice says, “Massie. I’ve had enough of this shit. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
La tee da for you.
“First, Alicia’s my wife.”
Really? Get to your point already.
“If I want to show her my work before you, I can do that.”
Fine! Go for it—I don’t care! The tears streaming down my face are not for you!
“We saw the flower together. Anyway she closed her eyes. She told me I had to show you first. I made her look.”
Whatever. You would say that. Always taking her side.
“The moment touched us.”
Excuse me. I now need to go hurl.
“I won’t apologize for that. Honey, I love you, and that isn’t going to change. I know I messed up with your mom.”
He pauses.
What? Don’t know what to say now? Yeah, you messed up with Mom. We all know that. Are you just figuring that out? A little too late, don’t you think?
“We both agree that you need to give Alicia a chance. She hasn’t done anything to you.” He pauses again long enough for the recording to stop. I’m sure he had more to say. But unlike my mother he won’t call back.
My father and Alicia both think I need to give them a chance? Really?! Natalie was right. I was thinking about giving her a chance, but I don’t need her telling me I have to do it. I won’t be forced.
I grab a hula skirt and wrap it around the mannequin’s waist. I run my fingers through the dried straw to straighten it and a sliver finds its way into the side of my middle finger. I pick at the slice in my skin as I head to the shoes. How dare Alicia decide what I need to do? Her and her sweet little laugh can kiss my ass. She may fool the rest of the world, but I’m not buying her little performance. I’m sure she’s enjoying pitting my father against me just like Vianna’s and Natalie’s stepmonsters do. I grab a pair of ruby-red snakeskin cowboy boots. I glance at the bathing tops. Gaby only keeps the tops; she tosses the bottoms. I quickly slide through the hangers one by one on the rack of summer tops until I touch a purple halter. I finish the ensemble with a skull necklace, a bulky wooden Catholic Saint bracelet, and a lavender and emerald crochet hat with a bow on it. I stand back to admire my masterpiece.
“Hmm,” Gaby studies the mismatched mess. “You’re finally grasping it.”
“You’re hysterical.” The mannequin looked better yesterday. I know it and she knows it.
“No, really. What made you do this?” Gaby asks.
Great. Now Gaby feels the need to psychoanalyze me. I know that I can’t escape her, so instead I give her what she wants. “The skirt, it resembles the trip that my dad took. Not to Hawaii but his marriage.” Really the skirt was hanging closest to me so I grabbed it. Only Gaby would sell a dead grass skirt.
“Okay,” she says. I know that Gaby is aching to comment but she’ll wait until I finish.
“The halter’s dark purple resembles pain, which reminds me of Alicia, who has taken my dad away, which also crushes every hope that my parents will reconcile. The halter also bears a resemblance to a rope that chokes me out of the picture.” Really I thought the top went with the skirt and since I put on the red boots on it first, I had to find something to match. Purple and red match, don’t they?
“Interesting,” Gaby waits for me to go on.
I take a deep breath and blow it out. “I chose the boots because they were the only red shoes in the store. It’s the Dorothy thing. I want to go home, the home that I had before my dad decided to run off with younger women.” Really, the obvious choice would’ve been flip flops, but I didn’t see any, so I grabbed what caught my eye first.
Gaby looks at the mannequin and then at me. “I’m impressed.”
The truth, there isn’t any rhyme or reason why I had done any of it. I wasn’t paying attention. Anger had spread through my body and I needed something to do so Gaby wouldn’t lecture me and take Alicia’s side. I have enough people doing that lately. Now, to make Gaby happy, I complete the interpretation of my feelings.
“Really, Gabs, I would reason that the piece shows the dysfunction in my life. I can’t discern if it’s winter or summer, beach wear or dude ranch attire. Do I accept the change or do I hang on to the past?”
“You’ve rendered me speechless,” she says. “Wow.”
I run to the counter on write on a small piece of scratch paper: Massie left Gaby speechless. I add the date and then tape it to the side of the register.