“I can’t believe Leo invited Capri to the party tomorrow night,” said a thin brunette as she held up a pale blue gauzy blouse. “I mean, after the way she treated Ambrose last week, you’d think that Leo wouldn’t want to subject his best friend to her anymore.”
“I agree completely,” said the blonde with her. “Seriously, Capri, of all people, really deserves to be shunned right now.”
The brunette laughed. “Just don’t let your brother hear you saying that. I think Leo’s still got a crush on her.”
“I’ve been keeping my thoughts to myself.” The blonde nodded approval now. “You really should try that blouse on, Jenna.”
The brunette held it up in front of her friend. “No, I think it’s more you than me, Miranda.”
Just then the blonde turned and stared at me like she thought I was eavesdropping or something.
“Uh, can I help you guys find anything?” I offered quickly, feeling less than invisible, not to mention intrusive. The truth was, I had been eavesdropping. I don’t even know why. Maybe I just miss talking to girls my own age.
“You work here?” demanded the brunette in a challenging way.
I nodded. “That’s why I asked if you needed help.” Then I smiled at the blonde. “I think your friend is right. That top would look fantastic on you. It really goes with your eyes.”
Now the blonde smiled slightly. “Really?”
“Yeah,” her friend said, “it does.”
And for a few minutes it was like these two girls, Jenna and Miranda, were actually my friends. Okay, not really. Maybe I was just imagining or pretending, but as I helped them pick out some things for Saturday night’s party, I almost felt like I was one of them, like I was going to the party too. They finished shopping, and I rang them up on their credit cards, which I assume are paid by their parents. Then they thanked me for helping them and happily told me good-bye, and I felt sorry to see them go. That’s when I realized just how pathetic and lame I really am.
And now it’s Friday night, and I am home alone. Shannon swore to me that she was only going out for a few hours. But I don’t expect to see her for a few days. It occurs to me that I could start up some kind of social life for myself…but I wonder who that would be with. Despite being drawn in with Miranda and Jenna today, I usually feel out of place with people my own age. Quite honestly, I get bored with their shallow values. And it’s awkward hanging with people who are older, because they usually act weird when they discover how young I am. Maybe I’m destined to be a misfit forever.
Okay, now I’m trying to come up with a green tip, and yet I feel like a hypocrite because I still can’t believe I’m being paid to sell overpriced clothes. That feels so wrong in so many ways. And yet a girl has to make a living. But that gives me a green tip idea. Because although I’ve been sneaking things from Shannon’s closet lately (my own form of recycling), my favorite way to shop for fashions is at the secondhand store—and that is very green.
Mayo’s Green Tip of the Day
Call them “thrift” or “vintage” or “gently used,” secondhand clothes are a great way to help our environment. And most things you find in thrift shops are good for another go-round. Look for pieces that are barely worn (like my favorite OshKosh overalls). But you can also find items with character and history (like my tie-dyed sundress from the sixties). Not only is shopping secondhand environmentally friendly, but it also brings out a person’s creativity. Just think, while you’re putting together some great one-of-a-kind outfits, you’re also protecting the environment in two ways. You’re preventing more junk from piling up in landfills, and you’re preserving precious natural resources.
Seven
June 20
It’s my day off, and I’m as bored as a gourd. Speaking of gourds, my garden is coming along nicely. I harvested numerous things, including cucumbers, tomatoes, lettuce, basil, and some baby carrots. I spent a couple of pleasant hours just weeding and watering and working on my compost this morning before it got too hot. It’s also wise to water in the morning, because that’s the best way to conserve water (it doesn’t evaporate so quickly), and the plants seem to like it better too. I guess I should make a green tip about that someday.
Anyway, to my complete surprise, Shannon actually made it home last night. Although I’m certain she was totally wasted because I heard her stumbling up the stairs on her way to her room. I considered offering some help but figured it served her right if she fell and broke her leg. Plus that might keep her at home. She eventually made it up, and when her bedroom door slammed, 1 went back to sleep. As usual, she’s sleeping in. And I sort of enjoy having the house to myself in the mornings.
I felt at loose ends. I straightened up the kitchen some and even sat and watched some public television, about the only worthwhile thing we get these days since Shannon hasn’t paid the cable bill in months. Not that I care. But the constant phone calls do bug me. I’m actually surprised that our land-line is still working. I don’t think Shannon has paid that lately either. But most of our calls are from grumpy collections people, and we just let them go straight to the machine. Occasionally someone will come to the door, but Shannon has made it clear that I’m not to answer the door unless we know the person. So mostly I ignore that too.
But this morning when someone knocked, I took a peek at the security monitor—a system my dad had set up for us back when he was worried about stalkers. Anyway, I was only looking out of curiosity…and boredom, I suppose. But the guy standing there was probably from a collection agency, so no way was I opening the door. Yet, as I stood there looking at the camera, I found myself wishing it were one of my old friends just stopping by to say hey. That used to happen. But not anymore. And then I actually considered calling up my old best friend, Ashlee. But I know she’s so moved on by now. She probably wouldn’t even remember who I am. Sometimes I have difficulty remembering myself.
Finally, around noon, Shannon crawled out. I could tell by her puffy face and bloodshot eyes that she’d been drinking. But she seemed slightly proud of herself for finding her way home. And she was grouchy.
“Where’s the coffee?” she demanded.
“I didn’t make any.” I filled a water bottle, getting ready to make a quick exit.
“Why not?”
“I wanted tea.” I made my way to the door.
“Are you going to work now?” She obviously hadn’t really looked at me since my overalls, T-shirt, and flip-flops should’ve given the answer.
“No.”
“Hey, baby,” she said in her I-need-something voice, “do you have any money?”
“Not really,” I lied.
She scowled. “Nothing?”
“A few bucks.”
“Don’t they pay you at that chichi shop?”
I just shrugged. “I can loan you a few bucks until Dad’s check gets here, Shannon.” Loan, yeah right. Like she’ll ever pay me back.
“Yeah, that’d be good.”
So I went and got into my secret cash stash and pulled out a twenty. A twenty I will never see again. Okay, maybe Shannon is my way of giving to charity. Whatever.
Then I hopped on my bike and rode over to Beverly Gardens Park. It’s not a big park, but I remember Dad bringing me here as a little girl…and for that reason I still like to come here sometimes. Today I’m sitting by the lily pond, doodling and writing in my journal. I know I must look lonely. I stopped by the Hunter and Hounds statue. It’s kind of a memorial to a soldier in World War I. But as I look at the dogs, I think maybe that’s what I need. A dog to keep me company. Oh sure, Shannon would have a fit. Other times when I’ve raised the dog subject, she’s always said that she couldn’t afford to keep a dog. Well, the truth is, she can’t afford to keep a daughter either. If I got a dog, it would be completely mine. And I would take care of everything it needed. Still, I’m not sure how much that would cost. I’ve heard that vet bills can be expensive, and I’m not sure how I’d feel about buying dog food since
it’s primarily meat. I guess I might have to think about that.
Mostly I think I’d like a friend. But not just any friend. I’ve had friends in the past who have hurt me. I think the next time I make friends, serious friends, I’ll be very selective. Okay, that makes me laugh. Well, almost. I mean, here I am sitting by myself in a park where only old people walk, and I am feeling lonely and acting like I can be so choosy about a friend. Maybe I need to lower my standards. After all, I certainly lowered them when it came to employment. If you ask me, selling costly designer clothes is only a notch above selling red meat. Who woulda thunk?
June 25
I keep hoping that Vivian’s mood swings will even out, but I’m beginning to think that, like Shannon, she is beyond hope. I’m fairly certain that she is beyond reason. I cannot understand how Em has lasted so long. Two years? I’ve only been here a little over two weeks, and I want to run the other direction every time Vivian opens her mouth.
“How long do you think you’ll work here?” I asked Em earlier today. It was safe to talk since Vivian had just left to meet some friends for lunch. I’m surprised that she actually has friends, or maybe she’s making that part up. Maybe she’s actually sitting by herself at a corner table and reading the paper as she nibbles on a Caesar salad.
“I don’t know…” Even though she was standing behind the counter, I could tell she was slipping off her shoes. Hopefully the video camera wasn’t catching this. Although I was sure Em had figured out how to avoid the cameras. I even had a suspicion that she might occasionally steal things, since I saw her carrying a pair of jeans over to a part of the shop that made no sense…except that it’s kind of a dead spot when it comes to the video camera. She set the jeans, which happened to be her size, at the bottom of a rack of oversize bags, and later that same day I noticed they had disappeared. Naturally, I would never mention this to anyone.
“Do you have any specific career plans?” I asked her as I made myself look busy straightening a rack of dresses (for the sake of the cameras). “I mean, on down the line.” Em is twenty-two, and although she dropped out of college, I’d think she’d try to figure a way to complete her education.
“I used to think I wanted to go to design school.” She leaned her elbows on the counter—another huge no-no when Vivian is around. “But it’s a pretty competitive field. I’m not so sure now.”
“But if you really loved it…,” I tried, hoping to keep her talking. I can’t explain why, but I am so starved for friendship…it’s like I even imagine myself becoming friends with Em.
“Vic and I used to love doing music,” she said dreamily.
“You’re a musician?”
“Not really. I mean, I can sing okay. And Vic is really brilliant on guitar. We used to have a band.”
“What kind of music?”
“Jazz mostly. Cool jazz. And we were doing pretty well at picking up gigs, just local bars and stuff. But it was fun.”
“Why’d you stop?”
“It wasn’t paying the bills. Vic took a real job…and then life got busy.”
“It’s not easy being a musician.”
She nodded. “I know.”
I was pretty sure Em didn’t know about my dad’s career. Not that I want her to know, but I can usually tell if people know or not, especially if they are into music. Anyway, I had a feeling Vivian hadn’t mentioned it to her. She probably didn’t want Em to treat me differently or something. I was tempted to bring it up just then, to keep the conversation rolling. But it seemed a little pathetic. Sort of like trying to buy a friendship—like “do you like me now that you know my dad is kind of famous?” So I didn’t say anything. And it was just as well since customers came in about that time.
June 28
Today is payday again. And I must say, I have mixed feelings about this day. On one hand, I’m totally stoked When Vivian hands me that white envelope with my check in it. On the other hand, I’m not sure how much of her guilt tripping I can take.
I thank her as I finger the long, thin envelope, suppressing the desire to rip it open.
She frowns slightly. “You know, I’m not used to employees who don’t make purchases in my shop, Maya. It hardly seems right.”
I want to point out that I cannot afford to purchase even a pair of socks from this ridiculously expensive store, but I bite my tongue and just nod in a way I hope looks a tiny bit sympathetic.
Then Vivian hands Em her paycheck, along with a catty smile. “Some employees have been known to take home only a few dollars on payday…but at least their wardrobes improve.”
I look down at my outfit and realize that it’s not quite as chic as some I’ve worn in the past. I have on an aqua Chloe T-shirt topped with a little black vest from the thrift shop. I’m also wearing a pair of khaki capri pants using an old men’s tie as a belt, and on my feet I have those Prada slides I’ve already worn several times recently. And they are finally starting to feel slightly broken in. I might’ve done better with my clothes except that Shannon has been home for most of the week. A rarity that I should appreciate, but it does put a hitch in my fashion plans when I can’t go closet shopping. Apparently Vivian has noticed. Still, I remain mute. What you don’t say won’t hurt you.
Then on my lunch break, I go to the bank and make an even larger deposit into my savings. It feels so good to see the amount getting bigger. It gives me hope. I walk back to work feeling slightly lighthearted. Well, until I have to stop and put on my less-than-comfortable “work” shoes. Naturally, that brings me back to reality. But as I go into the back room to stow my purse, Vivian is waiting in the shadows, like a tiger about to pounce. I actually hold my breath as I walk past her.
“Someone’s been stealing from me,” she announces as I close the door to my locker. A locker that I’m fairly certain she also has a key to. Not that I care. I don’t have anything to hide.
“Shoplifters?”
She glares at me, then shakes her head. “No, Maya, this is an inside job.”
“An inside job?”
She nods in a sly way. Her eyes look like slits behind today’s red-rimmed glasses, and she stares at me like I’m the one to blame here. And even though I am not the slightest bit guilty, I almost begin to feel I have done something wrong. This is ridiculous.
“Well, don’t look at me,” I say in a tone I mean to sound light but might sound defensive.
“I am looking at you.”
“Why?”
“Why?”She repeats the word slowly as if she’s chewing on it, like a cat with a morsel of raw meat in her mouth.
I wait without speaking.
“Well, I don’t think it’s Em.”
“And?” I return her stare now. I can play this game too.
“And that leaves you, Maya.”
I simply shrug at this accusation. “Well, you can think whatever you like, Vivian. But I haven’t stolen as much as a paper clip from you.”
She makes a noise that sounds like harrumph, then walks into her office, where I’m sure she’ll carefully go over her precious videotapes. Well, fine. Let her. Maybe she’ll find the culprit. And maybe I was right about Em. Maybe she did take those Diesel jeans after all.
I tell myself to just shrug it off. The same way I might shrug off Shannon. Vivian will figure out I’m innocent. But even so, I feel angry and indignant as I return to work. As if it’s not bad enough that I’ve compromised my personal values to work here, now I’m suspected of thievery. I walk through the shop looking for something to do, something to distract me from fuming at Vivian and her stupid accusations. Then I notice Em standing behind the counter. She smiles at me like nothing’s wrong and announces she’s going to lunch.
I try to act natural as I smile back at her, but I feel resentful that Em might be responsible for this. Could she have somehow insinuated that I stole the merchandise? But why would she do it? Perhaps to draw attention from herself? But that’s so wrong. So low. And to think I was trying to be friendly with
her. I should’ve known better.
Fortunately some customers come in, a very well-dressed couple who are probably my mom’s age, and I am distracted with trying to help them. And I’m surprised at how friendly they are. But then I’ve seen the woman here before, just a few days ago. Finally the woman says something odd to the man.
“See, what did I tell you about her?”
Now I’m not sure how to respond…or whether to, so I sort of step back, giving them their space. The woman opens her purse, a very expensive Ralph Lauren bag (I can tell by the initials in the lining), and she removes a card and hands it to me.
“If you’re ever looking for work,” she says quietly, as if she doesn’t wish to be overheard, “you just give me a call.”
I blink and try not to look too shocked. “Thank you.”
She smiles, and the man nods, and then they leave. After they’re gone, I head over to the dead spot and read the card. The woman is the manager of the Ralph Lauren shop—a shop that is much nicer than this one. So I’m standing here, thinking that it’s flattering and in some ways tempting, when Vivian comes out and insists on knowing what I am doing.
I tuck the card into my vest pocket and look evenly at her. “I’m actually just standing here.”
“Why here?”
“Why not?”
“Hold out your hands.”
So I put my hands up, palms forward, as if she’s holding a gun on me.
“Empty your pockets.”
“My pockets?” I frown at her.
“Yes. Your pockets. Step over to the counter and empty them, Maya.”
I go over by the cash register and empty my pockets. This is a little embarrassing because I have, among other things, a used tissue, a dog-eared stick of clove gum, and my worry stone. Finally I set the business card down as well.
She examines the contents of my pockets and even picks up the stone. “What’s this?”
A Not-So-Simple Life Page 6
