Page 6 of Grief & Glitter

Chapter 3

Ryan

There was something about a shopping mall that I loved.

I know, yeah, a guy my age should be all about online everything, and while I did do some shopping on the web, there was nothing like spending hours at a mall. Maybe it was my bouncy gender that enjoyed perusing both men’s and women’s clothing stores. Not that I was anywhere near brave enough to be seen around Rochester in feminine apparel. Sure, Dad was cool with the makeup, and he’d now seen me in a caftan which was decidedly girly. He’d complimented me on the flowing material then said he might get one for lounging around. My father was the best father in the world, hands down, bar fucking none.

So, the mall. I was lost in the noise of shoppers, the beautiful carousel cranking out music amid childish laughter, and Sephora. I was gazing into the stunning store filled with beautiful women as if I were about to enter Nirvana. If I could work up the courage to actually cross the threshold, I would for sure be in paradise.

Now to get my feet moving. I dared to wear satin slippers instead of high tops today. No makeup, obviously, or anything else that might be construed as effeminate. Dad was a big part of the Copperheads team, and I also worked for them. Not to say that the culture of hockey is toxically masculine, but it’s toxically masculine. There were some queer players on the team, some rather vocally out, others not so bold. But they all presented pretty damn male. They were big, strong, rough. They did not wear makeup or womanly clothes on their femme days.

There had been rumbles from some of the Copperheads about having gay players in the locker room, so imagine if I entered in a skirt with my face and hair done. I’d be whipped into meringue. And Dad would have to suffer the embarrassment of having a kid who not only was a recovering drug addict but also liked to prance around in pretty dresses. Yeah, no. I’d keep my fluidity a secret until it felt safe to do otherwise.

Inhaling deeply, I drew in the smells of an outdoorsy shop next to the merry-go-round. My stomach rumbled to remind me I’d not had breakfast, and it was now lunchtime. Squaring my shoulders as if headed into battle, I took two steps. The smell of pine disappeared as the rich aroma of fine perfume enveloped me. I stood just inside the shop, taking in the glory of so many choices of cosmetics, scents, and skincare. With Dad’s acceptance—and encouragement to buy new beauty goods—I managed that big step. I’d bought from this store before, but never in person. Pride swept over me as I found myself drawn to a display of eyeshadows in every shade for every skin tone. A glittery palette of warm gold, copper, and caramel browns with a few brighter colors like plum, olive, and mossy green spoke to my ginger soul.

“So beautiful,” I whispered to the little yellow box resting in my hand. I felt like crying. I almost did, but several women were nearby, so I took the eyeshadow palette to a skincare display. There, I tried several lotion testers, then went back to the makeup section to check out eyeliner. I rarely used foundation as it caused me to break out, so my main focus was lips and eyes.

An hour passed in the blink of an eye. I had to force myself to check out before I’d dropped my whole paycheck in one store. Toting the little black-and-white bag out of the store made me feel ten feet tall. My stomach roared.

The food court called. I took a moment to watch the children on the carousel, my bag of beauty goods clutched to my chest, then smiled warmly at the kids with their parents. My father used to bring me here a lot when Mom was too high to parent properly.

Shaking off the melancholy her memories always stirred up, I made my way to the large court upstairs. I noticed a soft pretzel stand next to a pizza shop and moved through the crowds of weary adults trying to get their kids to sit still and eat, the call of salty dough and nacho dipping sauce like a siren call. The line was long, so I pulled out my phone to kill a minute or two when a deep, gentle voice spoke my name right behind me. I spun to find Gideon smiling awkwardly down at me.

“Oh, hey,” I said, wondering to myself how someone could have such blue eyes. They were the same color as Lake George. Dad and I had gone camping in the Adirondacks right after I’d been discharged from rehab. Fresh air, fishing, campfires. He’d thought that would be good for me, and it had been. I’d spent hours beside that brilliant sapphire lake, watching the water lap against the shore as I tried to make sense of the mess my life had become. Staring up at Gideon Taftwell, I felt the same wonder. The depths of his gaze seemed the same as well. Untold fathoms in those stunning eyes.

“You shopping?” I asked, feeling suddenly stupid. No, Ryan, he’s at the mall to scuba dive. Dork.

“Yeah, uhm… I need a new hat,” he replied, his shoulders high and tight.

“Oh, cool. There’s a place on the second floor that sells ball caps,” I said as the line moved slowly forward. “Biggy’s Ball Cap Bonanza. I found a cap for Dad there last year for his birthday. He’s a member of the Bills Mafia and all that, so I got him a pretty sharp snapback to wear when they play. He’s funny that way. Thinks his cap will help them win, but I guess hockey players have their own superstitions. I noticed you always wear green laces. Not that I’m like scoping out your skates in particular or anything, but the neon green stands out. I like green. Green is the color of spinach. I love spinach.”

Oh, my fucking God, shut up, Ryan. You’re babbling. The man does not care if you like spinach.

“Yeah, me too.” His gaze darted over my shoulder. “You’re next.”

I whipped around to find a terribly bored pretzel seller staring at me. “Oh, sorry. Uhm, can I have two jumbos with extra salt and double cups of nacho dip? Oh, and a large Dew with no ice.”

“Ten forty,” the bored dude in the pretzel hat said after typing my order into the register. I tapped my card and stepped aside to wait. Gideon ordered the same as me, shuffled over to stand at my side, his arm brushing my shoulder as we waited for our food. When our trays were filled, we both paused to scan the court for seats.

“There’s a small table for two by the fountain,” he said, gesturing to the tiny water fountain in the center of the court.

“Yeah, okay, that’s cool.” He waited. I waited. “Oh, me, yeah.” I went first, tray held high to avoid any contact with children’s heads as they darted around. Our table was small, bright red, with two hard plastic chairs. The fountain burbled along sweetly, its base filled with pennies and wishes that perhaps had been or had not been granted. I placed my bag on the table, unwilling to set it on the floor for all the stickiness, and doubly unwilling to hang it on the back of my seat. That was too easy for little fingers to dive into. I’d not spent two hundred bucks to allow some greedy kid, or some shoplifter, to delve into my bag.

“So, uhm…” Gideon began, while I stripped the wrapper off a straw and jammed it into my Dew. I took a sip as I glanced at him. “This is a nice mall.” He grimaced.

“Are you in pain?” I asked as I tore off a small bite of my hot pretzel.

“No, I… cramp in my foot. So, this mall is nice.” He pressed his lips together before smiling at me but showing no teeth. He seemed so awkward. It was cute. He was cute. “Do you come here often?”

“When I want to shop, yeah.”

His gaze moved to my bag beside my tray. “Sure, me too. You picking up stuff for your mother?”

Shit. “Oh, uhm, no, my mom died years ago. This is for a friend. A girlfriend. Not a girlfriend, though. I’m not into girls. She’s just a friend. Who likes makeup. It’s her birthday today. We’re having a party tonight.”

The lies tasted vile as they fell out of me in a cascade. “Oh, that’s nice.” He rolled his lips over his teeth. “Sorry. I’m using the word nice far too much. What’s her name?”

Shit. “Penny. Hofstadter.”