“I still don’t know if I’m the right person to help you out with this.”
Aubrey never had much of an eye for things, be it decorating or pricing. Her college dorm room had been decorated sparsely, and even her room back at the house was more or less the way that she’d left it in high school. She had never felt much of a need to indulge in knick-knacks and the like, even if it was for a special reason.
“What, you’re not the antiquing type of lesbian?” Cara crossed her arms as she stood behind her friend, “Come on, it’s not that hard—just help me pick something out that you think looks good and I’m sure that Holly will like it too. You guys are way too similar.”
Aubrey chuckled awkwardly at the thought of buying something, inadvertently, for another woman. She’d never quite reached that stage in any of her ill-fated Tindr hookups… what kind of thing was appropriate for a one-year anniversary? Maybe something bright and shiny, like a ring or would that send the wrong message?
“Tell you what, I’ll go look over there.” Cara pointed towards the back left of the store, “And you check out what’s up here in the front. If you find anything, just holler okay?”
“Sure, I think that I can do that.”
But could she though?
Aubrey for sure had her doubts. As someone who in all honesty had never been much of a “gift-giver” in the first place, she felt way out of her depth shopping for her best friend’s girlfriend—someone who, despite having a common connection in Cara, she had barely even met. And frankly, making sure that Cara got to enjoy (quote) “the best possible sex of all short of makeup sex, anniversary sex” wasn’t exactly the most pressing matter on her mind.
Every time that she and her mother fought, it usually weighed heavily on her for at least a few days. But whenever she gained so much as a pound, if her mother knew about it, she’d ream her mercilessly for it. Then they’d get into it, sometimes Riley would be there to witness whatever spectacle that they’d make, and then Aubrey would have no choice but to bolt upstairs to her room so that she could blow off some steam. She’d dwell on it for a few days, idly fantasize about her fetish for a few weeks, and then weigh the pros and cons of actually going through with it.
Lather, rinse, repeat—it was somehow more traumatic than when she’d finally decided that she was going to come out to her mother.
What was so hard about this? What was so weird and awful about her desires that everything around every corner seemed to be doing everything within its power to make sure that she either felt like shit about going through with it or like she was a horrible person, or…
Ugh.
What was so wrong about wanting to be fat?
“Anything that I can help you with, ma’am?”
The woman behind the counter took Aubrey by surprise. She jumped back in surprise, her brown eyes wide with mild terror at the seemingly sudden appearance of the shopkeeper. Aubrey had been so caught up in her own problems that she hadn’t noticed that she’d been lingering near the center of the store, around the jewelry and other fine trinkets that had to be kept behind glass.
“Oh no, um…” Aubrey was still panting, her heart still beating fast, “…I’m just looking for something for my friend.”
“Are you sure, hun?” the woman piqued a rusty eyebrow, “You looked like you were havin’ a mighty tough time pickin’ between dust mites there.”
Aubrey laughed politely, wishing that this conversation could come to an end sooner rather than later.
“I’m fine, really. Just… you know, helping my friend pick something out for her girlfriend.”
That usually shut these southern shopkeepers up. Nothing brought out the Red State in people like casually mentioning homosexuality. But, much to Aubrey’s surprise (and chagrin, if in this moment only) the shop keeper merely smiled and laughed.
“Tell me about it—it’s hard enough shoppin’ for your friends, let alone people that you ain’t never really met before.”
It was hard to place, but Aubrey couldn’t help but feel like the woman behind the counter was odd somehow. She didn’t look repulsive or anything; your average, somewhat heavyset southern woman in her late forties (maybe early fifties) who had a head of rusty red hair and somewhat plain features. But something about the way those green eyes seemed to reflect in the sunlight… she was a little hard to look at.
“I, um… I’d better get back to my friend…”
Aubrey grabbed at the strap of her purse as it clung to her shoulder, resituating herself awkwardly away from the piercing green eyes of the shopkeeper. She hadn’t even finished the sentence before she’d started two steps toward the back of the store towards Cara, who was eyeballing a questionably tasteful top in the clothing section.
“Now wait a second, honey—” the shopkeeper took a step outside from the back of the jewelry counter, bent over, and popped back up, “I think you might’a dropped somethin’!”
Aubrey was sure that she hadn’t. She hadn’t brought anything in but her purse, her phone, and her keys. All of which were snugly inside of her purse. But she didn’t want to run the risk of having actually left something and needing to come back later for it—then she would have had to have come back to this store… possibly alone, without Cara for backup.
“Oh, thanks, I…” Aubrey furrowed her black brow as the woman pressed a large coin into her open palm, “…didn’t notice it?”
“Well, see to it that you take good care of it, honey.” The shopkeeper said with a smile, “That there’s a real special coin. I can tell.”
Aubrey closed her fingers around the silver dollar, shook her head, and hurried to the clothing section where Cara had squirreled away between some of the racks of clothes.
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