The Mall

Laurie can already tell that today is going to be a good day. So often she has to walk all the way from one of the outer lots to get to the Macy’s entrance, but not today. She steers her weathered Chevy Prism into a spot at the front of the lot just as a woman in a black Escalade pulls away. As she turns off the engine, she kisses two of her fingers and presses them clumsily to the little bobble Jesus affixed to the dash. It is Laurie’s belief that she can never thank Jesus enough for any and all good things that happen to her over the course of the day. Cool air rushes out of the car and quickly dissipates as she pushes her door open, hitting the car next to her. Getting in and out of her car is easily the most trying part of her average day, but today it seemed easy. With his picture safely stashed in the left-front pocket of her sweatpants, she emerges from the car with her purse clutched tightly in her armpit and set her eyes on Macy’s. She is already sweating and although she cannot not see over her own bosom, her pink toes appear to be shimmering from the heat of the asphalt. She walks slowly, although she longs to feel the rush of cool air she knows so well when she walks through the glass doors. She’s been here so often she doesn’t even notice the crowd smokers out front. It’s always the same, the older men and women are sitting on benches with bland expressions and cigarettes burning slowly between their fingertips, while the teenagers stand in a crowd talking and smoking vigorously. She trundles past them all and into Macy’s with a sigh of relief.

Every week Laurie would walk through Macy’s. She loves to check what stock they have changed since the week before, and in the summer months she likes to peruse the women’s bathing suit section, although she’s never bought one. Today she makes a quick round, stopping only to daub some of Brittany Spears’ new fragrance, Lust, on her neck. Feeling satisfied and confident, she steps out of Macy’s and into main section of the mall. Glancing at her watch, she realizes that she is not as early as she initially thought. The Starbuck’s he had specified the night before is on the fourth floor on the other side of the mall, she has to hurry. Though she hadn’t noticed it before, she has that butterfly feeling in her stomach.

The air is suddenly moist as she flip-flops her way past the amusement park. Often times she would pause to watch the children play and imagine what it would be like to ride the roller coasters, though she has never actually ridden one. She glances briefly at the water park area noticing once again the tiny chair affixed to the wall way up high. As far as she could tell it served no discernable function. She had always wondered what it was for and how anybody could possibly get up there. Today, pondering this as she went, she trundled on without breaking stride in the direction of Starbucks. She passes rows of old men on benches, each with pensive faces and wrinkled hats. A group of teenagers with dyed black hair and copious amounts of piercings skink past unnoticed. Normally, when Laurie sees teenagers of this kind she makes a rapid and discrete sign of the cross and mutters a prayer word or two, just in case it may someday save their souls. Today, the pack of teens pass her with wallet-chains rattling and skateboards in tow, but Laurie is unphased. Laurie is tempted by the smell of Sbarros pizza, but she decides against it. Just last night she had seen a Fox 9 special on how fast food could cause cancer. Besides, she prefers Dominoes based solely on the fact that they donate much of their profits to good Christian charities and pro life lobbies. Finally, Laurie reaches the elevator and stabs the up button impatiently. She watches as the indicator light flips from three to two where it pauses for nearly a minute. As the doors glide open a little boy wielding a gigantic jawbreaker emerges abruptly, nearly running into her kneecaps. His parents lag behind unapologetically, lugging a myriad of bags and pushing a stroller containing a sleeping infant. Still recovering from the near run-in with the boy and finally alone, Laurie takes a compact mirror out of her purse and forcefully adjusts her bangs. Fretting, because she forgot to wear her red sun-dress which all her friends say is very slimming, she catches a glimpse of herself in the metal elevator door. I do look pretty, she thinks as the doors slide open.

Feeling as confident as she ever would, Laurie steps out of the elevator and onto the fourth floor. Checking her watch she realizes that it’s already 12:35, he’s probably already there, she might have even seen him and not realized it. A rush of nerves surges through Laurie’s body and she can feel her confidence waning, but her legs draw her on almost automatically. Avoiding a pack of bemowhawked teens, she finds herself at the window of Starbucks thumbing the photo in her pocket apprehensively. She takes the picture out of her pocket and gazes at it one last time, for confidence. Breathing fast and shallow, she searches for him through the window. Just last night they had finally traded pictures, and she was finally able to put a face to the person she had felt like she had known forever. Now, scanning the Starbucks on the fourth floor of the Mall of America, she sees him. He is perfect, she thinks. He is sitting at a table with one leg crossed over the other and The Enquirer in his hands. He looks even better now than he did in the photograph that she had studied so laboriously the night before. His thinning hair is combed neatly over the top of his head, his bristling mustache quivers as he sips his coffee, and his plaid shirt highlights a frame that was clearly once powerful and muscular. Seeing Hank for the first time, her nerves dissolve away as she pushes her way through the glass door.