Someone holds three bracelets and a hat, ready to pay. While I check out the customer, I can hear Mairead chattingwith her father about how amazingly talented I was. She’s a very sweet girl, odd, but sweet. I try not to stare as her father hands her a stack of bills, before he regards me with a tip of his hat and continues, down the row of tents. Mairead giggles and places down a hundred-dollar bill. I watch as she removes the shimmering jacket with two hand-painted porpoises, off the mannequin and squeezes it to her body with a high-pitch squeak. Removing her black, furry coat, she places it onto the displayed ensemble and pulls on the jean jacket. She spins and squeals with excitement, causing lots of looks from passersby.
“This is the best day of my life!” She exclaims, pulling me into another hug. “I’ll text you about going shopping next week!” Mairead rushes out.
“Wait, you paid too much! The jacket is only sixty-five.” But she is already skipping off toward the direction her father went. Mairead also left her clothes behind, but I think that part was intentional. The headless bust doesn’t look terrible with the long fur draped over the animal print miniskirt and screen printed top. Although, if I had to guess, that coat is worth more than everything in this tent, including me!
During slower times over the course of the event, I desperately want to play music, but my earbuds are missing and all I have is this possessed tech that will not stop playingHow Bizarre!Poking around in the settings on my cell phone, I manage to pair the purple starred earbud with my own phone.
I feel a pang of loss after completing the pairing, wondering if I would ever hear a song from my stalker again. I couldn’t explain it, but it’s like having a one-way walkie talkie with your best friend next door. When you are having a bad day or maybe you’re a tad bit afraid of the dark… you knew someone was there with you. Sometimes they would talk, or play music in my case, but you weren’t completely detached from them. I’m confused. Why do I care if I miss something? I’m sure the lunatic willjust mail me another one when he realizes he’s not getting his point across any longer. Clearly, it’s a “he,” right? I mean, I’m not sexist, clearly a woman would be perfectly capable of being a stalker too, but I am team sausage, so I kind of thought the person in question would be male. If I’m being honest, I hoped it was Eamon, but my gut told me this may be a completely different person.
A lot of the other booths are busier than mine, so I am happy with the little foldable stool and my tunes, while I wait for my next sale. A teenage boy appears in my booth, just as I finish the sawdust tasting drink Andrea brought for me. He seems nervous or uncomfortable, based on the way he picks up items, quickly places them down, then looks around for something.
“Can I help you find something?” I round the table to come closer to the nervous boy.
“Yeah, umm… how much for this black furry thing?” His voice cracks as he holds up the sleeve of the coat Mairead left behind.
I smile. “That’s actually a display piece, but if you like fur, I can show you this jacket on the rack over there.” I point to the rack full of clothes behind the table.
He nods, appearing happy with the offered help.
“Are you shopping for yourself or a friend?” I slide the hangers to the side as the tall lanky boy stands between me and the table.
“Friend!” He nearly shouts.
“Okaaay. Do you happen to know their size?” I lean forward between articles of clothing to check the tags of the inside of each piece, before lifting them off the rack for the customer to see. “I have two pieces here with fur trim. One is large and the other is extra small.” I announce as I hold them up.
Oddly… the boy wasn’t in front of me anymore, he was running away? The little shit is fleeing from my booth with what looks like my purse!
“STOP!” I shout, fleeing my booth. The isle is so full of people there is no way I could tell which way he went. “Little Shit!” I scream after him, standing in a crowd of potential shoppers that will probably be avoiding my booth for the rest of the day. If I could have kids, I still would never have them! I stomped back to my tent, so thankful that I removed my phone from my purse before the kid showed up. “Goddamnit!” Any cash transactions I made today were in my purse, so the little thief made off with at least two hundred and fifty, plus my debit card, and license!
I put my head in my hands, attempting to slow my heart rate and focus on my breathing. No cops, I told myself; they never help. What would be the use anyways, report it, answer a bunch of invasive questions, as I defend myself over something I didn't do. My belongings would never actually be recovered. Then, I would have to cancel my cards and get a new ID regardless. I’ll take the less aggravating route, thank you very much.
It was thirty minutes till the end of the event. I had a few pity buys from onlookers that witnessed me running after the punk kid, but no big sales to speak of. I don’t wait. I start folding and placing clothing and hats into the bins I brought, ready to head home, when I hear something drop on the table behind me. I spin around to see no one, but when I stand to full height, I find my purse sitting on the table between the earring display and hat basket.
“Holy shit.” I pick it up and shuffle through, first locating my wallet. I count each bill three times and to my astonishment, not a dollar is missing! I walk out of my booth to the aisle, purse in hand and look in each direction. Who I was expecting to see, I don’t know… but I was elated no matter who brought it back to me. Without my purse being returned, I would have been in thehole for my tent rental and booth fee, but having the money back means I had enough to be in the green and a little extra to buy some delicious take out this week.
Wheeling my little cart slowly back toward home, I encounter an adorable, older lady in a coral, cashmere sweater. “Excuse me. I wasn’t able to make it in time to the craft event, but I understand you have lovely embroidery hoops for sale. Would it be too much trouble to make a purchase, my dear?” I glance back at the boxes and precariously stacked items in the wagon.
“Ummm, sure. I just need to get that box out.” The one on the bottom. “Just a second.” I let go of the handle, on the wagon. “Oh, not here, dear. Are you able to deliver?” I face her, confused how she’s going to know which one she would want without seeing them first. “Not really. I could show you?—”
“How much for all of them, dear?”
I don’t think I heard her right. “All of them?”
She nods.
I quickly calculate how many I brought with me; versus how many I sold. Then multiply the average price, times how many I have left. Four hundred? No. I pull out my phone and check my math. It seems too high… but the calculator on my phone said it was right. “Four hundred and eighty?” My math is terrible, but I checked twice to be sure. Why did Eamon want me as manager again? It’s a miracle I haven’t messed up the drawer yet.
“Wonderful. She reaches into her pockabook and hands me a thick envelope. I look inside to find crisp fifty-dollar bills. Significantly more than the price I just gave her. “The extra is for the delivery fee and the slip of paper within has the address. Please deliver at your leisure.” She snaps her little latch shut with a click, gives me a warm smile, ahead of continuing down the avenue.
I glance at the money again, then back toward the older woman who all but disappears. This seems too good to be true.I slip the envelope in my bag and walk a little faster toward my apartment.
After getting everything up the stairs and through the door, I was starving and exhausted. I throw a frozen burrito into the microwave and collapse on the couch with the envelope of money. I count it multiple times, only to realize not only did I have enough for takeout, but I have enough in my hand to cover my share of this month and next month’s rent! I would be lying if I said I didn’t smell the money, but I would deny any implications that I rolled in it. I did, though… roll in it.
The burrito tastes like burnt beans, with spots of ice throughout. I don’t care at this point because I am ready for a shower and nap before working at the bar this evening. I start to undress, leaving my aid and earbud for last. When I reach for the earbud, a soft melody begins playing. I recognized the song. It’sRadiohead – “Creep.” Who doesn’t know this song? I cover my face for a moment in utter disbelief… then I smile. I don’t know how he did it… but I’m relieved. I didn’t sever how my musical stalker communicates with me. Sure, he could text, but this felt special. I found myself swaying as the song plays only for me. The room fills with steam as the shower runs while I dance. I wipe my hand across the mirror, staring at my reflection. Could my musical stalker be the one who recovered my bag? Does he really find me that special that he would go through so much trouble? For once, I didn’t find the idea of him creepy.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
