The shop window read:
"We still do not have Chocolates
But we have soap.
Happy Easter!"
A friend of mine, Carrie (who I visited in Ireland nearly 18 months ago,) is visiting from New York. She wanted to go shopping. How could I say no to that? We headed towards the market in Aix. As we drove there Carrie said, "Yann told me to watch you carefully. He says if I see you falling asleep I am to hit you, slap you, shake you hard."
The fear of getting slapped kept me awake. I asked, "Gee, great vote of confidence."
Puzzled Carrie asked, "DO you fall asleep at the wheel?"
"Well I do. But l know today is going to be a good day. I am fine. Otherwise I would never venture to drive… I am not that crazy."
Still she never took her eyes off me.
The market was nearly empty due to the high winds and grey threatening sky. It wasn't animated, it felt like an empty movie set. Stage ready, actors yet to arrive.
Carrie couldn't resist buying some flowers at the market, and two beautiful art deco hanging lamps at the brocante.
Orange is her favorite color. Hermes orange.
I carried the flowers as she picked a tie for her husband. While she looking at the ties, I noticed in the mirror that my eyebrows are no longer as dark as they use to be… right then and there I realized they are going grey! GREY! I don't know why that didn't occur to me before. It is not like I don't see my eyebrows everyday.
Blonde hair grey eyebrows in an orange store.
As Carrie tried on clothes, and teased that she was buying too much and it was my fault, I told her people accused me of such. My mom often said, "If you do not want to buy anything DO NOT GO SHOPPING WITH COREY! Otherwise you will walk out with the whole store and like it."
Carrie liked what she found.
While I was oohing and awing over her jacket, pants, blouses, mid season coat, scarf… I thought about buying something with color… a yellow scarf… or something springy. Those orange flowers were playing cupid on me.
The funny thing is an elderly woman came up to me and said, "Oh black! Black, black black! I am sick of black. SICK of it. I can tell you love it. Look at you all black as if it were a funeral. Black robs the light from your face. It looks awful on you."
I smiled ackwardly, out of politness repeated to myself, "Why bother responding? What will it serve? Let it go." But also rolling next to my polite side was a smirk begging to come out. I turned around quickly walking the other way and chirped, "Creep!"
Five Hail Marys and ten Our Fathers for you Miss Grey Eyebrows. But the person in me who said, "Creep." wanted to go have a glass of wine or something.
Black polka dots won.
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