CHAPTER 10: Mall Trip

 

Clothes Shopping

We got in Dad’s car - Ma and Dad in front, and me in the back as usual.

“That was fast,” Dad said.

“What do you mean fast,” I grumped. “We’ve been here since nine. And it’s almost lunchtime now.”

“Val’s right, Henry,” Ma said. “Now you have to treat us to lunch.” She giggled.

“You two are always hungry,” he said.

“Can’t blame me,” I dimpled, “I’m a growing girl.”

Ma and Dad stopped at that. “Val…”

“I was joking! Can’t I joke about it?”

“Honey,” Ma said, “are you really okay with this?”

I awkwardly leaned forward and reached for her hand.

“Ma… believe me, I know I need to do this. I’m not really feeling too good about it, yeah, but I know I need to get through this. Can we just go with it? Let’s not keep questioning the thing, and just…”

Ma held my hand and brought it to her cheek.

“Okay, Val,” she said. “We’ll stop making a big deal of it, okay? We’ll just take things as they come.”

I took a deep breath. So here goes. “Ma… Dad… Can we make today like yesterday, and if you guys can treat me like a girl? As in for real. Can we just try it on for size? Just today? And see how it goes?”

“Okay, baby. Henry?”

“It’s okay by me. Let’s try it out for a day.”

“Also, Val,” Ma said, “It’s well and good you feel this way because Mr. Daimon gave us some advice for this coming week. Since you’d be going into Canada as a boy, and then coming back as a girl, it might be good to go in as a girl.”

I nodded. “Seems reasonable.”

“It’s so that they see you as a girl and avoid any hassles…”

“I don’t get you.”

What Ma was alluding to, apparently, was that I needed to be dressed as a girl, and act like a girl and everything, so everyone who sees me won’t associate me with my boy self. So, what was on the agenda for the rest of the day was a lot of clothes shopping. And then tomorrow, girl lessons, care of Ma.

Ma told Dad we were going to the Water Tower Place – it was a mall near the famous Chicago Water Tower – the last structure that survived the 1871 Chicago fire. The Water Tower Place was a pretty popular mall, and it was busy when other malls weren’t as much. It was in Chicago’s Magnificent Mile shopping district.

After parking, we went over to Wildberry Pancakes and Café for an early lunch. I ordered one of their special burgers, and Dad ordered their Chicken Chipotle Salad with a side of fries. For Ma, she ordered their veggie burger.

As I sipped on my Coke, choked with ice, as usual, they came with our orders. When they put my burger in front of me, they also gave me a knife and a fork. Huh?

I looked at Ma for some kind of cue, and I followed her example. It was weird to be cutting little bites off my burger with a knife and a fork - bun, burger, and all - and then forking them into my mouth. Ma gave me a nod and wink, so I guess I was doing it right. The place wasn’t a fine dining kind of place – far from it – but Ma said, if they give you a knife and a fork with your burger, you use them. I thought that was a stupid rule, but I was a good… girl. So, I follow what my ma tells me. Lol.

They used reusable stainless-steel straws and I thought that was cool as I sipped my drink. I knew straws were a big problem in marine pollution. The serving staff who brought our food looked at us as we chowed down. I smiled at them and waved my glass with the straw.

“The waiter’s pretty cute, huh?” Dad said, grinning.

“Stop it, Henry,” Ma said. “Val, stop flirting.”

“I’m not flirting!” I said.

“Whatever,” she pooh-pooed what I said. “Henry, stay and pay the bill. My daughter and I are getting a jump on some shopping – her trip’s on Monday, after all.” She gave him a wink and pulled me up from my chair, linked arms, and pulled me to the door. “We’ll text you where we end up.”

Ma was like a tornado, and we went around the mall as if she knew it like the back of her hand, buying what seemed like a hundred outfits, although Ma said it was just enough for the coming week.

Our first stop was a shop called Express and we bought a couple of dressy outfits, complete with costume jewelry and a couple of pairs of heels. She also picked up a couple of clip-on earrings and a couple of women’s watches – a cute women’s Casio G-Shock and a pretty fancy Tissot automatic. We then went by Forever 21 for a bunch of casual stuff like t-shirts and long-sleeve pullovers (Ma said it was just the ticket for Saint John), a couple of button-down shirts and one pair of slacks (“just in case,” Ma said).

We also got a bunch of underwear and sleep stuff. The underwear included a selection of plain bikini-style panties and half a dozen of what Ma said were bralettes. She said that they didn’t have training bras in my band size, so a bralette was the best alternative. Besides, she said that with the padding, they gave a better silhouette than a training bra could. The ones Ma found had pockets in them for padding, and she got foam pad inserts for them but in several different size pairs.

We also got a jacket from a place called Hera Fashion that Ma said would go well with the tops regardless of which I wore. I knew a little bit about that - it’s all about color selection: for coats and jackets, black or brown ones would match up with almost anything.

We also went to a store called Ragstock, which specialized in pre-owned and used clothing. Ma said that we should get a selection of clothes that don’t look new, because it would show that not all my clothes were straight from the store and make me look more authentic. We got some nice faded and broken-in jeans as well as some used shortie sundresses. We also got several skirts but we also bought several pairs of thermal tights to go with them so I could wear them in Saint John. According to the internet, it was 32 degrees over there at the moment.

The last items we got was a girl-type wallet and a girl-type backpack – Ma picked “The Backpack” by Modern Picnic. To me, it looked like what a girl’s purse would be if it was a backpack. I don’t think I’d use it much, but I’m taking Ma’s lead here.

All throughout, I got whispered pointers and instructions, and I was able to refine my “comportment” - a word that I had to look up the meaning of. In the few hours of our shopping, I learned enough of how to walk, how to stand and hold myself, and how to keep my elbows close to my sides. Ma said it was more about having the right attitude and frame of mind, and she was right – thinking “girlie” made me behave girlie. Whatever “girlie” meant… By the results, I think I did it right. Ma was an expert at it, but then again, she had spent most of her life being female. Ha-ha-ha…

I asked her about my voice, and she said my voice had an appropriate pitch and timbre to it - just enough to pass for female. But apparently, she said just I needed to speak in a more singsong way, and with an upper lilt at the end of my sentences. Instead of her, she had me be the one to talk to the salespeople so I could practice. After a while, I think I got the hang of it. I asked my dad how I sounded, and he said I sounded pretty good - sexy, in fact.

“Sexy?”

“Yeah,” he said. “The singsong thing changes it completely. Plus, your low voice – low for a girl, that is - and the slightly husky sound: very sexy. If you had a British accent, you’d sound awfully close to a teenage Elizabeth Hurley.”

“I don’t think you should tell your kid that you think she’s sexy, Dad.”

He laughed and shrugged. “Just telling it like it is. But don’t try the accent. I’ve heard you trying to do James Bond before.”

I stuck my tongue at him, and he laughed and laughed.

Dad was pretty helpful. He would carry most of the stuff we bought. And when he couldn’t carry any more, he’d make a run to the car to drop them off, and then he’d be back for more. He didn’t allow me or mom to do the carrying. He was a chauvinist that way.

I gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Dad,” I said, looking at him as he played the cliché role of the long-suffering husband-in-a-department-store-with-the-wife.

He smiled. “Not at all, darlin’,” he said.

“Ma? Maybe we’ve bought enough?”

Ma looked at Dad. “Well just a little more, and we’ll be done, honey.” She kissed Dad on the cheek. “Thank you for putting up with us, Henry.”

And true to her word, we just had one more stop, at Sephora, so we could get toiletries, a couple of bottles of perfume and cologne, and a small but complete make-up kit.

“Ma, I don’t know how to use make-up!”

“Not yet,” she said, “but you have to have your own make-up kit just so people can see you have one. Still, later at home, I’ll give you a few pointers on the basics.”

I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “I’m not going to need it – I’m going to be a tomboy, anyway, but I’ll do whatever you think is best.”

Boys Being Boys

As we walked, making our way, finally, back to the car, from the corner of my eye, I noticed maybe half a dozen guys were following us.

Dad noticed my agitation. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” Dad asked.

“There’s a bunch of guys following us,” I whispered to him and gestured behind us with my head.

“What!” He turned around to check. He turned back, chuckling. “Oh, sweetie,” he said. “Don’t worry about them.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re just a bunch of kids, following a girl they think is cute.”

I stopped and looked at him. “You can’t mean me?” I said.

“Of course you.”

“You know, I can’t ever tell when you’re joking or not…”

“I’m not joking. Okay, you girls wait here.” He handed us the bags he was carrying, and casually walked to the boys. Seeing him, a couple of them sort of slunk away but Dad was able to talk to the others. Of course, we couldn’t hear what they were talking about. Dad gestured to me, and they talked some more. At the end, he shook their hands and walked back to us. The boys smiled, waved to us, and walked away.

Dad shrugged at me. “See?” he said. “Nothing to worry about.” He hugged Ma and me, gave us kisses on the cheek, and took back the bags.

“It’s all good, now,” he said. “Let’s go.”

“Wait! What was that about?”

“Like I said…”

“I don’t understand, Dad!”

“They just found a cute girl, dear, and they were trying to find a way of getting close to you. It’s just how boys are, sweetie. I told them I was your dad, and they should quit it.”

Ma giggled. “You gotta get used to that kind of thing, honey. Pretty soon, that kind of thing will just be a normal thing for you.”

“How can stalking someone be normal!” I was practically yelling, and they were both practically falling-down laughing.

“Val, Val – be cool,” Dad said. “They weren’t stalking. Surely, you know how boys are?”

“Well…” I stopped and thought a bit. “I guess I know what you mean,” I said. “But I wouldn’t be stalking girls!”

“Are you sure?” Dad wagged his eyebrows.

I huffed in frustration. “You can’t be right,” I said.

He turned to Ma. “Beth?”

“Dad’s right, Val,” she said. “Yes, there are creepy boys, but they are totally harmless. So you better not fly off the handle or be paranoid.”

“But!” Dad interjected, “there are boys that you have to worry about. The trick is to know which is which.”

“But if you don’t know which, baby,” Ma said, “you don’t take chances. Tell the teacher or call the cops.”

Dad paused, thinking. “You know, Beth, I think we have one more stop. Come on.”

Dad led us to a mall directory, picked a store, and led us to a place called Suburban Sporting Goods. Dad said, apparently, we forgot about any kind of personal protection.

He talked to the proprietor and the guy brought out a selection of pepper sprays. “Bad luck, though,” he said, “if one had a FOID, tasers and stun guns would be legal everywhere in Illinois except in Chicago. I’m afraid the only choice left are pepper sprays – these are legal. You’re sure I can’t interest you guys in some guns?”

Dad shook his head. “Thank you, but no. None of us have permits, anyway.”

“Hey, what are you talking about? This is America! I can help you get permits.”

Dad shook his head. “My family is against guns.”

The man shrugged. “Okay, friend, whatever you say. I guess these have to be it, then.”

“Beth? Val?”

We came over and looked at what the guy had on the counter. What we ended up with were a bunch of Mace pepper sprays of different sizes and a bunch of police whistles. Dad also got something called a Sabre pepperball gun: it looked like a big gun except that it was in black and orange, with “Sabre” printed on the side. It was essentially a paintball gun except that it fired pepperballs instead of paintballs. I wanted one as well, but something smaller and less gaudy-looking, but the guy explained that the gun’s orange color was mandatory for non-lethal devices, though the color was usually just around the muzzle.

“But I think I have something you might like, Miss,” he said and brought out another box.

I ended up with something called the Byrna SD Launcher. It was essentially the same as the Sabre but it was a bit smaller and it was colored black all throughout, except that orange tape was wrapped around the leading edge.

“I’m required to say that that you shouldn’t take that orange tape out – the feds require that the tape remain on the device.” He gave me a wink. “’ Course, if you take the tape off later, I wouldn’t know it. Right?”

I giggled. “Right” (remember to be singsong! I thought).

While Dad was at the cash register with the proprietor paying for our new, ummm, weapons, Ma elbowed me in the ribs. I looked at her. “What?”

“You’re a natural, sweetie,” she whispered.

That Store Smell

It was a long day. And I was glad it was over. Or so I thought. Ma asked us to bring everything that we bought and bring them to their room, so Dad and I got everything (we had to make three trips) and dumped them all on their bed.

“Here,” Ma said and handed their hamper filled with the new clothes. “Put this on the kitchen table and come back.”

“Why?”

“Just do what I say. Oh, and please bring me the hamper from your room.”

I shrugged. I took the clothes downstairs, came back up, and got my hamper. “Here you go.” I handed her the hamper.

“Thanks.” She then handed me something. “Take these and change into them.”

“Ma?”

“Do what I say.”

So I went back to my room and changed into them. They turned out to be an old pair of Ma’s lounge shorts with a white cotton hem and a faded-pink short-sleeve henley. I guess we’re keeping up the all-girl thing. In front of my mirror, I turned around and checked how I looked, and it seemed like Ma’s clothes suited me. I put on my flip-flops and went back to their room.

“Well!” Ma said and looked at me up and down. “You look very comfortable.”

“Thanks, Ma.”

“Those are yours now, by the way. They’ll be way stretched now. Anyway, take these.” She handed me the hamper I just gave her, which was now full of more of the clothes we just bought. “Bring these down.”

“You’re gonna wash them? But, Ma, these are brand new! Why?”

“Exactly, dear. They’re brand new. So they smell new. You know that slightly chemical-like smell that new clothes smell like when they come out of their sealed plastic bags? Well, we don’t want them to have that store smell.”

I shrugged. “Whatever you say.” I grabbed this second filled-up hamper and went downstairs again. Ma followed behind me, carrying yet another hamper.

I put down the hamper on the table. “Now what?”

“You leave these with me for now. Now go. Do something with your father.” She started sorting the clothes and shooed me away, so I went looking for Dad.

Later, Ma found us playing with my old Xbox in the living room again. She handed me an ice-cold can of Coke and Dad a beer and squeezed in between us. I felt a little uncomfortable when Ma and Dad were feeling… frisky. So I guess that’s it for the Xbox. I put the controller away and switched the TV to cable. I channel-surfed but couldn’t find anything to watch so I slunk away.

“Am gonna go up to my room,” I said. “Call me for dinner?” (Singsong and lilt! Singsong and lilt!)

“No problem, honey,” Dad said in a distracted way. That made me run up the stairs faster.

 

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