“Will it hold the most books?” He asks.
She considers this gravely. “Um, maybe this one?”
“And cats?” he adds.
She gasps. “You can’t put cats in backpacks.”
I laugh as he nods, “Good.”
“Okay, now remember this is something you’ll take with you every time you go to wherever your new school may be. It needs to be practical, but also pretty, just like you.”
Lucy grins as she looks around, studying each.
She looks at me as if to ask if I like the one she’s holding. It’s blue with a glittery rainbow, tiny hearts stitched between clouds, and a heart-shaped front pocket.
“They’re all lovely, Lucy, but as Lenzin said, you have to love it enough to want to take it with you every day.”
“No Axels on any of them, but I think he’d like it.” She turns it around and inspects the back, “He would fit in here, right?”
“I bet he would.” I smile.
Her hugging it is the answer; this is her favorite so far.
“Now, let’s check it out,” Lenzin says, squatting again, and she hands it to him. I already know where he’s going.
He inspects the straps, scrutinizing the stitching and the zippers. “It appears structurally sound, sturdy actually. Great choice.” He stands and holds out his hand for her. “It’s busy in here, so let’s stick together, okay?” She takes his hand and nods. “Sneakers and shoes next.”
She holds his hand, but not mine. She’s still clutching the backpack like it might evaporate if she lets go.
I wonder how many times our mother promised her she could get something, after a particularly bad week, or an entire month of being gone, or just too inebriated to function, only to get to the register and have her card denied, or her not having enough money, and always the embarrassing way she spoke to the cashiers as if it were their fault.
This backpack is expensive, but I have yet to spend her stipend from the agency, we haven’t needed to. The girls all did so much, and Noelle, she’s given me an amazing opportunity to work from home on her novels. I’ve been able to buy food and do-little things. Those little things with her don’t feel little at all,they never were to me either.
The children’s sneaker section is ridiculously adorable. Of course, Lucy makes a beeline for the loudest, brightest shelf, grabs a pink, glittery pair, and holds them up like a trophy, declaring, “These!”
Lenzin crouches down and takes a sneaker from her, turns one in his hands, presses the sole with his thumb, and bends it slightly to test flexibility. He doesn’t laugh at the sparkle. He doesn’t flinch at the glitter he simply asks, “Do they light up?”
“Yes!”
“That seems essential.”
She beams.
“Let’s get your size,” a woman says, walking up to them.
Lucy looks at me. “The perfect size shoe makes for happy feet,” I assure her. “Have a seat so this nice young lady can get yours.”
She tries them. When she stomps, they flash, and she lights up and lets out the most adorable belly laugh.
“Comfortable?”
“Yes!”
He nods once at her and looks at me for confirmation, which I love, and then tells the associate, “We’ll take them.”
I think we’re done. We are not done. Lenzin moves down the aisle, toward the more understated section. The quieter colors. Suede. Clean lines.
He runs his hand over a row of Adidas Gazelles. Soft lilac. Pale blue. Cream and a pale pink, all with complementary colors. He smiles when he sees the bright pink flowers and picks them up. “We’ll take these ones, and the,” he looks at the blue, and I am sure he’s going to say the blue, but he says, “The others too.”
