“I can lend you some money and you can pay me back when you can,” I tell her. “Not that you have to.”
She taps her fingers on the sink then turns around to face me. “Alright. But I will pay you back. I promise.”
“Okay.” I rub my hands together. “Where shall we go first?”
I’VE NEVER GONE SHOPPING before, except for food and the barest of necessities, and I certainly have never taken delight in it.
With Clarissa, it’s different. I watch her go through every piece of clothing on the racks with immense concentration, running her fingers carefully through the fabrics and then checking the price tags. Afterwards, she either sticks her lower lip out or smiles, face all lit up. If it’s the latter, she pulls out the item and continues, ending up with quite a pile in her arms before heading to the dressing room.
I hear her humming in there. I hear the scuffle of fabrics as they rub against each other, of clothing gliding across skin, buttons popping and zippers zipping.
I shake my head, trying to shake the image the sounds conjure out of my mind.
After a few minutes, she emerges in a pair of jeans and a cobalt blue turtleneck under a white coat tied around her waist, a pale blue hat tilted jauntily on her head.
I blink, almost thinking that a different woman has appeared in front of me. But there’s no mistaking the tawny hair or those smoky eyes.
“Well?” Clarissa gives a whirl, her hair dancing around her shoulders. “What do you think?”
Beautiful. That’s the first word that comes to mind, but I don’t say it out loud.
“Nice,” I say instead, scratching the back of my neck. “Much better than my old sweater.”
She chuckles then goes back into the dressing room. For the next few minutes, she goes in and out, each time with a different pair of pants on, a different blouse, sweater or dress, a different coat or jacket, a different headpiece, sometimes with a scarf.
And each time, she looks beautiful, leaving me utterly in awe, my breath stolen and my heart pounding.
“She looks good in anything, doesn’t she?” the woman next to me remarks.
A feeling of pride explodes in my chest. “Yeah, she does.”
It’s a great thing but for Clarissa, it seems to be a bad thing, too, her eyebrows furrowed as she goes over the clothes she’s tried. Finally, she makes up her mind, picking the pair of black jeans with a sandy brown belt, the cobalt blue turtleneck, a tan coat and a white fur cap.
I give her a thumbs up. “Great choice.”
“Thanks.” She puts the other items back in their racks. “And thanks for taking me shopping and getting me clothes. Now, I feel like a human.”
I frown. “You didn’t feel like a human before?”
She chuckles and considers me seriously. “You know, we should get you something, too.”
“Me?” I point a finger to my chest, eyebrows rising to get lost somewhere in my hairline.
“Yes, you. When was the last time you bought yourself a sweater? Or something new?”
I shrug.
“My point exactly.”
She rushes over to the men’s section, already looking through the racks. I follow her.
“Clarissa, this isn’t necessary. I...”
“Aha. What about this?” She pulls out a gray and maroon sweater, holding it up. “What do you think?”
I give another shrug. “I really don’t...”
“I, for one, think it will look great on you,” she interrupts, holding the sweater against me.