Chapter 1 #4
He seemed so confident, but tired at the same time.
I could tell the workload was weighing heavily on his shoulders.
He walked, slumped over slightly, as if he were physically carrying the burden.
I suppose I should get used to spending more time alone with Tiffany.
It didn’t seem like Dan would be around much.
“You ready to go, Mari?” Aunt Tiffany walked into the office, her designer bag hung on her elbow as she pulled her coat around her slender body. Her eyes flicked from me to Dan in apprehension. “We are going shopping for school.”
Uncle Dan’s tired visage broke into a grin, creasing the skin at his eyes. “Excellent. You ladies have fun. Tiffany is an excellent tour guide. She has lived in New York her entire life.”
“It’s true,” she grinned, seemingly thrilled with the idea of spending more time with me. “I would be happy to show you around the city if you’d like.”
I smiled, finding their attempts to connect with me touching. They weren’t going to just toss me in a giant luxurious room and ignore me. It felt like they actually wanted to try to be a family.
“Yeah,” I replied, following Tiffany out of the office. “I would like that a lot.”
Tiffany let me borrow one of her winter coats, seeing as I only had my oversized sweater to keep me warm. It was a soft wool, dark hunter green with gold buttons. It looked barely used, yet she commented when she gave it to me that she’d had it for years. She must not go out much during the winter.
As soon as we walked through the revolving doors of the apartment, I wasn’t so surprised at the idea that she would want to stay in.
The biting cold had actually gotten more frigid, the wind nipping at any exposed skin.
I dug my numb fingers deeper into the cashmere-lined pockets of my borrowed coat.
Tiffany, noticing my unpreparedness, hooked her arm around mine, bringing me closer to her.
“You will get used to New York’s cold. I promise.”
Not sure I believed her, but I smiled in response anyway.
“Where to today, Mrs. Pollard?” Mr. Lewis opened the door of the sleek black car that had picked me up from the airport the day before.
“Fifth Avenue. We’ve got some shopping to do.” She smiled at me as she slid into the back seat.
I climbed in beside Tiffany, relishing the heat that enveloped me like a warm hug from my Nana.
My breath caught in my throat at the thought of Nana and her hugs.
Hugs I would never again get to experience.
Tears stung my eyes as I glanced out the window, trying to hide my grief from the others in the car.
Silence descended within the car as we drove through the traffic towards Fifth Avenue. The only noise was the quiet hum of the heat, the radio playing soft Christmas music, and the noises outside of New York City life—taxis, car horns, people yelling, wind howling.
“So . . .” Tiffany’s voice trailed off as she searched for some subject or topic that seemed appropriate.
“Thank you for taking me shopping,” I interrupted, saving her from having to come up with anything. I preferred the quiet, and I had a feeling Tiffany did too.
She sighed, relieved at being saved from herself. “Of course. I hope we can get to know each other today. I really want you to feel at home here, Mari.”
“I’d like that too,” I replied honestly. While this new and strange place didn’t feel like home, I knew I had to at least make an effort. No one asked for this situation, but Tiffany and Uncle Dan were trying.
We fell into a comfortable silence, the car filling with the low hum of Christmas music in the background. Mr. Lewis pulled up to a department store, Saks Fifth Avenue, one of the same stone buildings I had seen on my way into the city the day before.
Mr. Lewis quickly got out of the driver’s seat and came around to open the door for us. “Have a lovely shopping trip, ladies.”
He winked at me as I followed Tiffany, who took my arm and led me into the store.
The massive stone building towered and loomed over us as we walked in, and I was suddenly overwhelmed by the cacophony of sounds—people chattering and the intoxicating smells of various expensive perfumes.
There were rows and rows of makeup counters and other accessories.
A light buzzing began to throb from the back of my head, wrapping around me like a vise grip.
Tiffany ignored the salespeople as they tried to get her attention, instead leading me to the escalator and up three floors before we came to a much quieter clothing section.
The different patterns and fabrics caught my attention as Tiffany glided us to a back area that seemed much more private, with couches and changing rooms. The luxury and opulence stunned me for a moment.
If I thought I had looked out of place at the apartment, then I was painfully aware of how unfit I was to be walking in such a gorgeous, clean, and expensive store.
A tall man with slicked-back brown hair in a fancy suit strode up to us effortlessly.
“Mrs. Pollard, how lovely to see you.” He air-kissed both of her cheeks before turning to me. “And you must be Mari, our doll for today.”
“Doll?” I mumbled, taken aback as his cologne choked me, causing the headache that had begun downstairs to come back in full force.
“This is Gerard, my personal shopper.” Tiffany explained, leading me further into the dressing room area where mirrors lined one wall with red velvet couches and subtle lighting. “He is going to help us get you a new wardrobe.”
I blanched, my voice stuttering as Gerard took my satchel and jacket, throwing them unceremoniously onto one of the couches. “I thought we were just getting school uniforms.”
Another woman appeared with a glass of champagne for Tiffany as she took a seat on one of the couches like a queen sitting upon her throne.
“We will get your uniforms sorted,” Tiffany replied easily after taking a sip of her champagne. “But your uncle and I want you to have the very best of everything. You’ll need new clothes to hang out with friends, to go out on dates.”
She beamed, her face full of happiness and generosity. “And I won’t hear a word of protest. This is something I want to do for you. You’ve been through so much so young. You deserve a shopping spree.”
I was going to tell her I had clothes, that this was unnecessary and a waste of their money, that the odds of me ever having somewhere other than school to go to, let alone a date, was absurd, but the words died in my throat.
Tiffany genuinely wanted to do this with me, for me.
Tears pricked the back of my eyes at her obvious and authentic kindness, but I swallowed them back.
“There is no point in fighting back,” Gerard winked as he pulled a rack of expensive-looking dresses towards me. “Mrs. Pollard always gets her way.”
I nodded, smiling shyly as I began gently pushing through the different fabrics, feeling their soft textures and admiring the classic patterns. I picked a few items, purposefully ignoring the price tags. I knew I probably would not like what I saw.
Gerard also took my measurements and brought me even more outfits to try.
I tried a few pieces on, surprised at how comfortable each new outfit felt.
Nothing felt scratchy or too tight. Tiffany and Gerard talked amongst themselves, noticing when my eyes would light up at different pieces and bringing out more outfits that matched a similar style, pattern, and color scheme.
It seemed I had a preference for darker colors such as navy and hunter green, preferring subtle patterns of small polka dots and stripes.
It felt strange to wear new clothes when all my life I had worn thrift store finds and hand-me-downs.
Two hours later, I had bags full of new clothes, including several uniforms for my new school, Windsor Preparatory Academy.
My heart felt full, overwhelmed at the opulence with which Tiffany had no problem showering me.
I clutched one of the bags, my knuckles turning white as I followed Tiffany, Gerard, and his assistant, who carried the rest of my bags out of the department store.
The headache that had begun as a low but irritating hum had only worsened during the shopping and trying on of clothes.
I had tried to ignore it, to focus on the present moment with Tiffany, but the pain that began as a subtle hum had turned into a loud din of tightness around my head.
I slowed my pace as I followed the others down the escalator, momentarily losing my balance as I stepped off the moving step.
I stumbled, dropping my bag to grasp a makeup counter.
“Miss?” a detached voice yelped. It sounded muffled, like I were underwater. I took a step and tried to pick up my bag when a bright light flashed, and then everything went dark.
I awoke the next moment, my mouth dry and limbs heavy. I struggled to open my eyes as sounds began to filter back through my consciousness, Tiffany’s voice the loudest and most urgent.
“Give her some room! And bring us some water!”
Footsteps scurried away, most likely off to get what she requested.
“Mari, darling? Can you hear me?” Tiffany’s voice spoke softly to me, her soft hands brushing my blonde curls from my face. I finally found that my strength was returning, slowly but surely, and opened my eyes to meet Tiffany’s wide, panicked hazel ones.
“Oh, thank God,” she mumbled under her breath. “Are you okay? What happened?”
Gerard pulled me up from behind, allowing me to sit up.
I realized now that I had passed out just a few feet away from the exit, next to a makeup counter.
There were dozens of strangers circling around us, eyeing me suspiciously.
I heard a few snickers and giggles from a group of teenage girls who stood to my left, taking in my dirty shoes, borrowed jacket, and disheveled hair.
Blood rushed to my cheeks in mortification and embarrassment.
“I’m fine.” I stood quickly, desperate to leave this store behind. “I just slipped. I had a bit of a headache, but I’m okay now.”
Gerard and Tiffany eyed me warily, still keeping their hands on me as I swayed. Gerard’s assistant had returned with a bottle of water, and I took a few sips gingerly as if to prove my point.
“See? I’m good. We can go now.”
“Are you sure?” Tiffany implored. “Do you need a doctor?”
“No, no!” I responded a little too quickly, glancing away from the lingering onlookers. “I think shopping just took a lot out of me.”
“She literally shopped till she dropped,” Gerard chuckled, returning to pick up the discarded bags. Tiffany didn’t look completely convinced but nodded. She kept her hand on me, as if afraid I would pass out again if she didn’t stay vigilant.
We walked out of the store and I took a deep breath of the cold air, relishing the way it helped clear my head and alleviate the pounding. Mr. Lewis opened the back door of the car before taking our purchases and putting them in the trunk.
“Maybe you're hungry?” Tiffany suggested. “Your blood sugar could be low. Let’s get something to eat, hmm? That will help.”
I nodded mutely, gazing back outside, my eye taking in the now ominous-looking department store.
My eyes grazed up the building, stopping at an unusual-looking structure on the roof.
It looked like a person or maybe a gargoyle, but I could have sworn it wasn’t there when I entered the store two hours ago.
Perhaps a new Christmas decoration? Before I could get a better look, the car pulled away, and the feeling of uneasiness slowly receded.
Later that night, after a quiet dinner, Tiffany came to my room to help me put away my new wardrobe and to check on me, still unconvinced that I was truly okay after the debacle at the department store.
Uncle Dan was apparently still at the office, working late on that high-profile murder case he had mentioned before.
“How are you feeling? Really?” She asked as she helped fold some of my new sweaters, placing them gently into my new dresser.
“Fine, I promise,” I smiled. “Thank you again for everything. It’s really unnecessary. One or two uniforms would have been enough.”
Tiffany turned to me, forcing me to look into her wide and fierce hazel eyes.
“Enough of that,” she demanded, her sharp and demanding tone surprising me. “You are family. You are my family. And I provide for my family.”
The way she said it, with such intense conviction, made me pause. There was something deeper there, something more within Tiffany. She wasn’t just some rich heiress, living in her penthouse, surrounding herself with riches and basking in her privilege.
“Thank you,” I replied finally, taking a step forward to pull her into an embrace. She halted, hesitating for a moment before wrapping her arms around me, squeezing tightly.
“You’re welcome, sweet girl,” she mumbled into my hair.
She helped me put away the rest of my clothes in comfortable silence before saying goodnight.
After showering, I fell into my large bed, anxiety rippling through me even though I was exhausted by the day’s events.
My head still hurt, though the intensity of the humming had subsided greatly.
Perhaps it was just an aftereffect of traveling, grief, and being in such a new and foreign place that caused my lingering headache and the brief blackout from earlier.
I tossed and turned before finally settling into a comfortable position.
Soon, I drifted into a troubled sleep, where visions plagued me all through the night.
Looking back, none of the dreams made sense.
Just disjointed images of past memories with Nana when she was alive.
There were flashes of darkness, a looming sense of dread, and the odd feeling that I was being watched.