That young man is going to cheat on his wife.”
Callie’s loud proclamation embarrasses me, but she isn’t speaking to me. She’s talking to the Macy’s salesclerk who’s helping her.
The girl seems amused. “Why do you think so?”
“Because she’s let herself go. Look at her! He’s a nice-looking man, and she hasn’t even washed her hair.”
The woman with the greasy hair hears her and looks over, indignant. I step away from the wheelchair and pick up some towels as if I’m examining the thread count. The woman storms off, her husband trailing innocently behind her.
The Christmas music piping over the speakers is too loud, playing some ridiculous version of “Deck the Halls.” Why can’t people just leave a good melody alone?
“And those pants they wear are very unattractive,” Callie says. “Why would anyone want to wear elastic pants that show every dimple?”
The clerk signals her coworker to get her to listen in. “They’re yoga pants.”
“It’s like wearing your leotard out in public.”
I step forward. “Are we finished here?”
Callie looks up at me like she doesn’t recognize me.
“Finn, the cab driver,” I say, and that smile takes over her face again. “Shouldn’t we go? We have other things on the list.”
“The list?” Callie asks.
I consider backing off and taking her home, but she’ll remember as soon as she sees that list again. It’s sticking up out of a pocket in her purse. I point to it. She grabs it and reads it. “A gift for Sydney. Did I get one?”
“You bought something,” I say, lifting the bag. “I don’t know who it’s for. Who’s Sydney?”
“My . . . uh . . . What was I saying?”
“Who Sydney is. Your granddaughter?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
I wonder why Sydney isn’t the one taking her to the doctor and going shopping with her. I round a Christmas tree in our path and almost run into another one. How many ways do they really need to remind us of this season?
Just as I’m eyeing the exit, the sound of Christmas carolers singing “O Little Town of Bethlehem” distracts her. She tries to turn in her wheelchair to see them. “Oh, look. Aren’t they lovely?”
Groaning, I turn and see that just outside the mall exit of the store, an ensemble of singers dressed in Victorian outfits are launching into a concert. Just my luck.
“Let’s go see them!” Callie says, clapping her hands. “Oh, I love the singing!”
I push her through the displays and cross the store to that exit. I park her in front of the singers. She sways in her chair, clapping her skinny hands with the song.
There’s a coffee store behind us, so I leave Callie by the singers, hurry in, and order a coffee. I take my time fixing it, then I walk back over to Callie. She sees me coming and stops clapping to reach out for my cup. “Oh, you didn’t have to get me that. You’re such a sweet boy.”
Reluctantly, I surrender the coffee and wonder if I should take the time to go back and get another one. But the singers end their little concert.
“Ready to go now?” I ask her.
She looks at me, confused. “I don’t know where my head is,” she says. “What did I buy?”
I open the bag and show her.
She looks disappointed. “Towels aren’t a good gift for her.”
“You bought them.”
“That won’t do. I have to get her something else. What’s a good gift?”
It took her a half hour to find and buy the towels. Now she doesn’t want them? What am I supposed to do? Take them back before we’ve even left the store?
“I don’t know anything about her,” I say. “But everyone needs towels.”
“She deserves something special.”
“Something special in this store, I hope. And if you make me help you pick out clothes, I’m going to hurl myself into the elevator shaft.”
“What, dear?”
“Nothing.”
I wheel her around the home section, to the jewelry, the shoes, the purses. She doesn’t buy anything. I don’t even know if she’s still lucid.
Finally, I convince her to go to the next place on her list. The towels will have to do. It isn’t like this Sydney person will hold it against her thousand-year-old grandmother if she doesn’t get her something she wants.
Truth be told, this revered granddaughter doesn’t deserve anything, or Callie wouldn’t be with some random cab driver for the second day in a row.
I get Callie out of the store and back to the cab. She’s waning by the time we reach the car. I wonder if she’s had breakfast.