Chapter 21
It doesn't take me long to find a used clothing store on the streets. Business obviously is more of a 'service' industry here than an actual 'product' type of thing, but the walls need to be taken up with something-- why not something as unattractive as used clothing....
I don't believe I've ever actually set foot in one before-- I feel like I have. I feel like I have Lucky's memories inside my head-- fueling me..... I can hear him telling me about the time he had to switch clothes at a reesale store to allude 'the bad guys'-- that's all I'm doing too. Alluding the 'bad guys'. Of course I have no idea who they are-- I think they might just be in my head too.
I don't really know. I don't really care. I'm just going to keep moving.
I walk to the door of the store tensing slightly as I pass the drunken old man that has made himself a doorstop on the sidewalk. I can't help letting some parts of the old me surface-- the me that was the "Quartermaine princess".... It makes me inexplicably angry with myself, and I force my body to relax-- I remember the flight I'm on, I return to my current epiphany, and I don't have to force the relaxation.
I step inside the musty store and chance a look around. No one notices my pajama bottoms, my hair still wet from my shower-- they are all too submerged in their own scrounging. I watch with interest as the varied women dig to the bottoms of the barrels of mismatched clothing. They collect bundles in their arms and hurry to the next, and I slowly make my way to match their actions. I feel silly and covert at the same time-- like I'm pretending to be an undercover agent, infiltrating a life I don't come from, but somehow understanding. I look at the woman across from me, her arms elbow deep in a bin of dirty underpants and stare in awe.
This isn't a game. People live like this. People were here, suffering, while I was living ignorantly in my white castle.
The woman looks up at me and catches my stare.
"Whatta you lookin' at?! See somethin' interesting?!"
Yes, I do. I can do nothing physically, but open my mouth frutilessly to respond and glance away. I do see something though-- I see myself, mirrored in this angry, shunned old woman. I skim my eyes over her one more time and take my armful of clothes to the counter. I numbly pay my minimal amount and retreat out the door, leaving behind the whole new world I just encountered. I feel so strange-- I don't attempt to sort it out. Just let it soak in Emily, let this life, this world, this own strange happiness soak in.....
I pause as I'm about to cross the street and turn back around. The lowly drunk is still slouched against the cold brick of the building, and I feel a jolt of electricity flow through my body. I'm still musing on the feeling of life in my deadened limbs when I realize I am on the ground, eye to eye with the old man. He studies me with interest, and I do likewise. Then I reach in my pocket and pull out a small wad of cash. I remove the nearly empty bottle from his weak hand and replace it with the money.
He stares uncomprehendingly at his dirty hand, and then returns his gaze to my eyes. His eyes are blue, I think dumbly.... I glance back at our joined hands, and back to him. I don't know why, but I love this old man-- this stranger. It's again a different reality and I have no urge to shake it off. Instead I choose to give him one word of advice...
"Live."
It doesn't take me long to find a used clothing store on the streets. Business obviously is more of a 'service' industry here than an actual 'product' type of thing, but the walls need to be taken up with something-- why not something as unattractive as used clothing....
I don't believe I've ever actually set foot in one before-- I feel like I have. I feel like I have Lucky's memories inside my head-- fueling me..... I can hear him telling me about the time he had to switch clothes at a reesale store to allude 'the bad guys'-- that's all I'm doing too. Alluding the 'bad guys'. Of course I have no idea who they are-- I think they might just be in my head too.
I don't really know. I don't really care. I'm just going to keep moving.
I walk to the door of the store tensing slightly as I pass the drunken old man that has made himself a doorstop on the sidewalk. I can't help letting some parts of the old me surface-- the me that was the "Quartermaine princess".... It makes me inexplicably angry with myself, and I force my body to relax-- I remember the flight I'm on, I return to my current epiphany, and I don't have to force the relaxation.
I step inside the musty store and chance a look around. No one notices my pajama bottoms, my hair still wet from my shower-- they are all too submerged in their own scrounging. I watch with interest as the varied women dig to the bottoms of the barrels of mismatched clothing. They collect bundles in their arms and hurry to the next, and I slowly make my way to match their actions. I feel silly and covert at the same time-- like I'm pretending to be an undercover agent, infiltrating a life I don't come from, but somehow understanding. I look at the woman across from me, her arms elbow deep in a bin of dirty underpants and stare in awe.
This isn't a game. People live like this. People were here, suffering, while I was living ignorantly in my white castle.
The woman looks up at me and catches my stare.
"Whatta you lookin' at?! See somethin' interesting?!"
Yes, I do. I can do nothing physically, but open my mouth frutilessly to respond and glance away. I do see something though-- I see myself, mirrored in this angry, shunned old woman. I skim my eyes over her one more time and take my armful of clothes to the counter. I numbly pay my minimal amount and retreat out the door, leaving behind the whole new world I just encountered. I feel so strange-- I don't attempt to sort it out. Just let it soak in Emily, let this life, this world, this own strange happiness soak in.....
I pause as I'm about to cross the street and turn back around. The lowly drunk is still slouched against the cold brick of the building, and I feel a jolt of electricity flow through my body. I'm still musing on the feeling of life in my deadened limbs when I realize I am on the ground, eye to eye with the old man. He studies me with interest, and I do likewise. Then I reach in my pocket and pull out a small wad of cash. I remove the nearly empty bottle from his weak hand and replace it with the money.
He stares uncomprehendingly at his dirty hand, and then returns his gaze to my eyes. His eyes are blue, I think dumbly.... I glance back at our joined hands, and back to him. I don't know why, but I love this old man-- this stranger. It's again a different reality and I have no urge to shake it off. Instead I choose to give him one word of advice...
"Live."