8. Frederick
8
FREDERICK
A dusty black sedan pulls up beside me outside the department store where I’m trying my hardest to avoid the morning rush of weekend shoppers going in and out.
“Frederick!” Sigourney and Walken pile out of the car and race toward me. Their soles thud against the pavement as they run. I notice their threadbare, shabby coats and realize how necessary this outing is.
“Hey, guys. Good to see you again.”
“We thought you’d come pick us up. Rochelle made us walk so long I thought my legs would fall off if we walked any longer?” says Sigourney.
“Explain the cab then.” I raise my eyes to see Rochelle having an exchange with the driver through his window. Her lean and muscular frame is dressed in a maxi dress with tennis shoes and a coat.
“She only agreed to the cab after I complained.”
Rochelle catches up to us and throws a polite smile my way.
“What’s this I hear about you forcing them to walk when you could have got a cab or an Uber?”
“I was trying to avoid the crazy traffic, and honestly, I didn’t think it’d be that far.” She shrugs, looking a little embarrassed.
I turn to Sigourney. “In that case, we’ll have to make this day extra special to make up for how it started, and so you don’t go tell your parents on us. Let’s go in.”
Sigourney grabs Rochelle’s hand, and Walken and I go ahead of them.
We march into the large department store like a family, acting as if we might have done this fifty times before with how natural it feels. The children’s faces light up immediately at the many floors, mannequins, and endless escalators.
We make our way over to the department with kid’s clothes.
“Looks like Sigourney and I will be over there in the girl’s section. You boys have fun.” Rochelle points her head in the other direction before they set off.
We had the budget talk beforehand so she knows exactly what we’re working with. I turn away from her retreating back and face my new ward.
“See anything you like?” I ask him.
His eyes dart back and forth between graphic sweatshirts and character backpacks. The high white shelves have all manner of folded apparel, shoes, and accessories. I’m sure the sea of clothes racks around us has drowned a few adventurous children.
“These look cool,” he says cautiously, pointing at a pair of ripped jeans.
I pat his back. “Go ahead, try on whatever you want.”
We browse for a few minutes before he selects what he likes and heads over to the fitting room by himself. I keep an eye on Rochelle and Sigourney, stealing glances in their direction from over the clothing racks that divide us.
They seem to be having the time of their lives.
I watch as Sigourney picks out one garment after the other. They ooh and aah at hair accessories, nod at a pleated skirt, and shake their heads at some floral print leggings.
She’s such a natural with these kids. A magnetic pull toward her follows my thoughts and I give in to it.
“How’s it going?” I ask when I walk over to them by a rack of pink T-shirts.
Her head jerks up, and her eyes become larger for a second. “Didn’t see you there. Sigourney is about to go in and try on some things. How about you guys?”
“Her bro is doing that right now. You guys are so slow, though. It was in and out for us,” I say with a smirk.
“Don’t blame us,” says Sigourney matter-of-factly. Then she raises her hands and spins. “Blame all the options.”
We all throw back our heads to laugh before she picks up the shopping basket filled to the brim with clothes and heads to the changing room.
“Do you need help?” Rochelle calls after her.
The back of her head shakes in response, and she disappears behind the wall.
“Thanks again for this. I’ll probably keep thanking you forever.”
I shake my head. “Don’t mention it. I’m glad our schedules aligned and you guys made it.”
Her mood changes as her face drops and turns into a wistful cloud. She glances towards the changing rooms and then up at my face. She chews on her top lip before she opens her mouth. “It’s way too easy to get them out so there’s no way we wouldn’t make it.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Their parents don’t give a shit who they’re with. Take today, for example. Their mom didn’t even ask how long they’d be gone or anything.”
“That’s because they trust you.”
She scoffs. “Then I guess they trust our entire building then. They could be with strangers on a different floor, and that has happened before, and I’m the only one who’d be out looking for them.” She sighs. “It sucks, they deserve so much better.”
“I didn’t realize things were that bad.”
“Oh, they’re bad. And I just don’t get it. What did these poor kids do to deserve such a crappy situation?” She shrugs and looks away.
I watch the shadows of worry come over her pretty features. I hate to see her like this, and I hate to think the kids live with such a heavy burden each day.
“Hey, at least they have you on their side.” I try to be as encouraging as I can, wondering if there’s something I can do to lighten her despair. “And now they have me, too.”
“But they need stability in their own home. And one way is for them to get permission from their parents before they go anywhere. I always make them ask, by the way. But it doesn’t make a difference either way.”
Her face is ashen and doesn’t lighten up when Walken comes up to us.
“I like it all,” he says, his arms heaping with selections.
“Awesome,” I say, jumping in to catch the falling load. “Rochelle, would you like to check up on Sigourney, and see how she’s doing? You’ll find us by the register.”
“Sure.” She turns around and walks off with hunched shoulders. I see her frustration, and I get it. I could buy these kids the world, but it’s just a band-aid on a much bigger problem. A problem she seems to face all by herself.
I pay for everything, but I’m not ready to call it a day yet. I don’t want the kids to notice Rochelle’s frosty mood or for it to seal their memory of today. My mind goes into overdrive as we exit the department store.
“You know what else we need?” I pause dramatically right outside the storefront.
“What?” the children respond with measured excitement.
Rochelle is clearly miles away and doesn’t even say a thing. I don’t let that dissuade me.
“Shoes. You can’t have new outfits without new shoes. What do you say?”
“Awesome.”
“Yay!”
“There is a shoe store at the shopping mall around the corner. Rochelle, are you up for it?” I raise my eyebrow at her.
She shrugs and drops her gaze to the blonde heads in front of her. “Only if you guys are okay with it.”
“Of course, we are.”
“Who doesn’t like new shoes?”
The slightest of smiles plays on her lips, and she shrugs. “Let’s go.”
The shiny new shopping center is a hop and a skip away. They run riot in the shoe place. Their joy is infectious. I let them get five pairs each, sneakers, boots, dress shoes, the works, before we leave.
“Did we forget anything?” I ask.
“Backpacks maybe?” Sigourney says with a scrunched up mouth.
“Let’s do that and school supplies then. I thought you guys were supposed to bring a shopping list?”
This elicits an actual smile from Rochelle. “Guess I forgot, what with all the excitement of getting here this morning.”
“Well, I guess our four heads will have to do.” Opening the door for them, I catch a glimpse of relief on her face that makes me feel ten inches taller. These kids needed a helping hand today, and I’m happy to oblige. But that look on her face? That’s for me.
We spend the next few hours crossing things off our mental lists and going way over my expected budget. I don’t mind if it makes them happy. I can afford it, and I’ve certainly spent money on worse pursuits than helping a couple of kids.
As we go about our day, I reflect on her revelation and how it affected her mood. It tells me quite a bit about her character. For one, this cements how considerate she is. Given what she told me about her past, she is probably doing what she wishes would have been done for her.
Not many people would divert resources to people who aren’t their own blood. I can’t help but feel a touch annoyed with everyone who failed her as a kid.
But I can’t dwell on this for too long because eventually, our tanks run empty.
“I’m hungry,” says Walken almost under his breath, his feet dragging.
We’ve just passed by a restaurant in the mall whose aromas waft out to taunt our noses.
“Yeah, me too,” says his sister, and one of their stomachs growls.
I feel a little hollow myself. “Since today is special, I say we start with dessert first.”
Rochelle looks at me like she’s my teacher and I’m her naughty student. “I think we should discuss this first.”