Tiffany ignored the salespeople as they tried to get her attention, instead leading me to the escalator and up three floors before we came to a much quieter clothing section. The different patterns and fabrics caught my attention asTiffany glided us to a back area that seemed much more private, with couches and changing rooms. The luxury and opulence stunned me for a moment. If I thought I had looked out of place at the apartment, then I was painfully aware of how unfit I was to be walking in such a gorgeous, clean, and expensive store. A tall man with slicked-back brown hair in a fancy suit strode up to us effortlessly.
“Mrs. Pollard, how lovely to see you.” He air-kissed both of her cheeks before turning to me. “And you must be Mari, our doll for today.”
“Doll?” I mumbled, taken aback as his cologne choked me, causing the headache that had begun downstairs to come back in full force.
“This is Gerard, my personal shopper.” Tiffany explained, leading me further into the dressing room area where mirrors lined one wall with red velvet couches and subtle lighting. “He is going to help us get you a new wardrobe.”
I blanched, my voice stuttering as Gerard took my satchel and jacket, throwing them unceremoniously onto one of the couches. “I thought we were just getting school uniforms.”
Another woman appeared with a glass of champagne for Tiffany as she took a seat on one of the couches like a queen sitting upon her throne.
“We will get your uniforms sorted,” Tiffany replied easily after taking a sip of her champagne. “But your uncle and Iwant you to have the very best of everything. You’ll need new clothes to hang out with friends, to go out on dates.”
She beamed, her face full of happiness and generosity. “And I won’t hear a word of protest. This is something I want to do for you. You’ve been through so much so young. You deserve a shopping spree.”
I was going to tell her I had clothes, that this was unnecessary and a waste of their money, that the odds of me ever having somewhere other than school to go to, let alone a date, was absurd, but the words died in my throat. Tiffany genuinely wanted to do this with me, for me. Tears pricked the back of my eyes at her obvious and authentic kindness, but I swallowed them back.
“There is no point in fighting back,” Gerard winked as he pulled a rack of expensive-looking dresses towards me. “Mrs. Pollard always gets her way.”
I nodded, smiling shyly as I began gently pushing through the different fabrics, feeling their soft textures and admiring the classic patterns. I picked a few items, purposefully ignoring the price tags. I knew I probably would not like what I saw.
Gerard also took my measurements and brought me even more outfits to try. I tried a few pieces on, surprised at how comfortable each new outfit felt. Nothing felt scratchy or too tight. Tiffany and Gerard talked amongst themselves, noticing when my eyes would light up at different pieces and bringing out more outfits that matched a similarstyle, pattern, and color scheme. It seemed I had a preference for darker colors such as navy and hunter green, preferring subtle patterns of small polka dots and stripes. It felt strange to wear new clothes when all my life I had worn thrift store finds and hand-me-downs.
Two hours later, I had bags full of new clothes, including several uniforms for my new school, Windsor Preparatory Academy. My heart felt full, overwhelmed at the opulence with which Tiffany had no problem showering me. I clutched one of the bags, my knuckles turning white as I followed Tiffany, Gerard, and his assistant, who carried the rest of my bags out of the department store.
The headache that had begun as a low but irritating hum had only worsened during the shopping and trying on of clothes. I had tried to ignore it, to focus on the present moment with Tiffany, but the pain that began as a subtle hum had turned into a loud din of tightness around my head. I slowed my pace as I followed the others down the escalator, momentarily losing my balance as I stepped off the moving step.
I stumbled, dropping my bag to grasp a makeup counter.
“Miss?” a detached voice yelped. It sounded muffled, like I were underwater. I took a step and tried to pick up my bag when a bright light flashed, and then everything went dark.
I awoke the next moment, my mouth dry and limbs heavy. I struggled to open my eyes as sounds began to filter back through my consciousness, Tiffany’s voice the loudest and most urgent.
“Give her some room! And bring us some water!”
Footsteps scurried away, most likely off to get what she requested.
“Mari, darling? Can you hear me?” Tiffany’s voice spoke softly to me, her soft hands brushing my blonde curls from my face. I finally found that my strength was returning, slowly but surely, and opened my eyes to meet Tiffany’s wide, panicked hazel ones.
“Oh, thank God,” she mumbled under her breath. “Are you okay? What happened?”
Gerard pulled me up from behind, allowing me to sit up. I realized now that I had passed out just a few feet away from the exit, next to a makeup counter. There were dozens of strangers circling around us, eyeing me suspiciously. I heard a few snickers and giggles from a group of teenage girls who stood to my left, taking in my dirty shoes, borrowed jacket, and disheveled hair. Blood rushed to my cheeks in mortification and embarrassment.
“I’m fine.” I stood quickly, desperate to leave this store behind. “I just slipped. I had a bit of a headache, but I’m okay now.”
Gerard and Tiffany eyed me warily, still keeping their hands on me as I swayed. Gerard’s assistant had returnedwith a bottle of water, and I took a few sips gingerly as if to prove my point.
“See? I’m good. We can go now.”
“Are you sure?” Tiffany implored. “Do you need a doctor?”
“No, no!” I responded a little too quickly, glancing away from the lingering onlookers. “I think shopping just took a lot out of me.”
“She literally shopped till she dropped,” Gerard chuckled, returning to pick up the discarded bags. Tiffany didn’t look completely convinced but nodded. She kept her hand on me, as if afraid I would pass out again if she didn’t stay vigilant.
We walked out of the store and I took a deep breath of the cold air, relishing the way it helped clear my head and alleviate the pounding. Mr. Lewis opened the back door of the car before taking our purchases and putting them in the trunk.
“Maybe you're hungry?” Tiffany suggested. “Your blood sugar could be low. Let’s get something to eat, hmm? That will help.”
