Maizie (The complete version)

         
                   10
                              Maizie          

Maizie

          "Oh, Maizie! Sometimes I just don't know what I'm going to do with you." David - pronounced Dah-VEED - fussed with her Echo saffron-colored silk scarf, his nimble fingers making slight alterations. "The left side should hang a little longer than the other. Tsk, tsk, tsk. My goodness sakes alive! Who dresses you anyway?" He chuckled at his clever, self-deprecating remark.
          Maizie paid no heed - not that it would make any difference. Dah-VEED, indeed. Her thin-lipped smile affirmed the silliness of the floor manager's affectation. But, she really didn't care how David pronounced his name, and she never bristled at his daily adjustments of her attire. His little quirks bothered her not in the least. Garnering great joy from striving to make his surroundings perfect, his flawlessly coiffed, dark hair and Alfani suits proved he lived his job. After all, for Maizie the Macy's name was an ideal, and the company, especially at this Manhattan flagship store, expected its reps to project its personna of affordable elegance.
          Stationed in the fourth floor women's department for years, Maizie radiated the store's image. "You are what you wear," David took pleasure in saying. When a customer entered "Women's Apparel", her gaze almost always drifted toward Maizie. If her attire was less than perfectly coordinated or her collar crooked, her job performance wasn't satisfactory. On the other hand, when customers "oohed" and "ahhed", complimented her appearance, or asked to try on the same articles she was wearing, Maizie knew a sense of pride. Of course, she realized her perfect figure and cream-colored skin tone showed off her wardrobe with impeccable panache.
          Unfortunately, job satisfaction didn't seem in great supply these days. Sara had worked at the store for nearly two months. Laid off from a local high tech firm, she had struggled to make ends meet before landing a sales associate job at Macy's. Instead of being happy, she groused about the customers, bungling bosses, and a lack of challenge and creativity. Maizie understood Sara would soon leave for another position more befitting her background. But Maizie could not comprehend her point of view. It was an honor to work at Macy's. This store, above all others, exuded a charm and style second to none. Macy's could make even an average person beautiful. Now, if that wasn't a challenge to one's creativity . . . .
          Her thoughts hung unfinished. She spied a blonde, mousy-looking teenage girl pawing through the jacket section. With languid movements, she flipped through several displays of apparel. Her eyes abruptly widened, and she stopped at a newly tagged Ralph Lauren leather jacket and petted the sleeve. The teen glanced from right to left, took her prize off the rack, and carried it into the changing room. Moments later the girl emerged wearing her well-worn, but bulked out ski jacket.
          Maizie always felt sad when young people made poor choices. Lenny, the plainclothes security officer, would spot teen before she left the floor. By tomorrow the leather jacket would return to the display. The young lady would learn a lesson; at least she would discover that cameras followed customers' every move and in-house police protected corporate interests. And that was a lesson worth ....
          Maizie brightened, spying an old friend. She watched Ted, a middle-aged, balding man in a gray suit, stroll in her direction. With wistful, gray eyes in a soft-featured, round face, his appearance was average by any definition. He worked as an actuary for an insurance company in a nearby building.
          During his lunch hour, Ted had visited Maizie at least once a week for the past year. At first he had gazed at her from a distance. She suspected he was shy. After a few weeks, he approached her. She remembered his first words. "Hi, Maizie. My name is Ted. My wife wore clothes just like yours." He already knew her name because she was practically a fixture at Macy's. At that moment, Maizie realized he had a crush on her.
          During the following weeks Ted talked more about himself. Then about his failed marriage. He loved his wife and gave her everything. Her Macy's credit card bore witness. One day she just left without warning and provided no explanation. He suspected another man, but couldn't prove it. He mentioned that he liked his job - manipulating numbers fascinated him, and he certainly couldn't complain about his salary - but he got lonely sometimes. Returning to an empty apartment day after day depressed him, and working with mathematical figures hardly spawned an active social calendar.
          But today he was all smiles and compliments. "I love your outfit, Maizie. That yellow scarf accents your dark gray blazer perfectly." Actually, the scarf's color was saffron, and the blazer, an MM Couture brand, was labeled charcoal. Maizie gave him her usual, understated thank-you-smile. Ted always noticed her clothes and praised her appearance. Last week he commented on her forest green Calvin Klein dress with the carnelian sash. The week before he noted her Levis jeans, her Lauren white top, and faux leather, Steve Madden jacket. Ted was so kind. So observant.
          "Well, I've got to cut our visit short today. Work has been piling up recently. Oh, by the way, a tech guy that fixed my work computer says he's got a job here today. He told me there's going to be some big changes." As he flashed Maizie a beaming smile and walked away, he said, "Don't worry, my dear. I'll see you tomorrow." Ted was such a sweet guy.
          The remainder of the day passed with unremarkable sameness until closing time when David appeared, helping another man lug a bulky box. "This is by far the best place in the department," huffed David, resting the box on the floor for a moment. He spoke with an authoritative tone. "Anyone entering Women's Apparel has to walk by here." He made an abbreviated gesture with his right hand toward a sturdy Plexiglas showcase that sparkled with earrings, necklaces, and bracelets.
          David helped the technician, who wore a white shirt, white jacket, and black-framed glasses, lift a fifty-six inch flat screen TV from the box and position it on top of the counter. Next, the technician placed a laptop computer on the surface behind the screen, connected their two USB ports, and plugged in both to a power strip.
          "Hey, mister," the man with the glasses asked David, "do you want to see how this thing works?"
          "Sure, if it doesn't take too long." David glanced at his Citizen watch.
          The technician pressed the power switch and completed a few strokes on the keyboard. A female model on a runway appeared on the High Definition screen. She wore a peach-colored Evan Piccone sleeveless, chiffon dress with a black, silk sash and black Bandolino pumps. When he pressed "enter", the model sashayed with bouncing steps the length of the runway, posed right, posed left, twirled in a full revolution, and returned to where she began.
          "Pretty cool, huh!" remarked the technician.
          "Well, it's certainly . . . er, modern." David struggled to find the diplomatic word.
          "You ain't seen nothin' yet. Watch this. As long as a clothing ensemble is stuck in the data base, all you gotta do is punch in the ID number." He looked at a little book, made six keystrokes, and pressed "enter" again. This time the same model in a Calvin Klein gray-striped pants suit move down the runway, following the same routine as before. "You can even add accessories using special codes. The nicest thing about this gadget is you can get rid of those old-fashioned dummies." With a smirk, he launched his index finger toward Maizie.
          "We prefer to call them floor models," corrected David stiffly. "But I see what you mean."
          "Here's my card. If you got any questions or run into problems, just give me a ring. Well, gotta go."
          Maizie watched David take the technician's card and observed the man in white recede down the escalator. David shook his head in disapproval. He sighed, turned to Maizie, and met her stare. "Well, old girl, I guess we can't stop progress."


         

* * * * *

          Maizie stood bewildered in the after hours half-light of the women's apparel section. David's words "We can't stop progress" continued to linger with her. But what did they mean? Looking down at the black flat screen TV, an icy thought flickered inside her. But, no. How could that thing take my place? As long as she remembered, Macy's had not existed without her. I must be mistaken. But she took no comfort in that thought.
          Two small spears of light stabbed at her unclosed eyes. Maizie tried to blink and deep inside she flinched. Two night custodians dressed in striped bib overalls walked toward her. "Must be the one," said the fat man to the skinny guy as he jabbed his bright cylinder at her.
          "What do they want us to do with her?" asked the thin one.
          "Take her out to the loadin' dock and ditch her."
          The little man grabbed Maizie's waist and started to tilt her into a carrying position.
          "No, dimwit," said the big man. "Gotta take off her clothes first. Those duds are spendy. The boss don't want them thrown away too."
          Maizie started at his words. It was true. They were firing her after all the loyal years she'd put in. She felt sick inside. Then petrified as the man fumbled at the buttons on her lime Alfani blouse and his partner pulled at the fitted Calvin Klein gun-metal-gray skirt.
          "Be careful, asshole. Don't tear the merchandise."
          When she was naked, the two men ogled her. "She's a pretty good lookin' chick, for not bein' real, that is," said the skinny one. "But not real enough to sleep with."
          "Maybe this'll help." The big custodian chuckled and took a red marker out of his bib pocket, took off its cap, and made two circles near the tips of her breasts. Then he made a dot in the middle of each. "Now, that's more like it." His belly heaved in a booming guffaw. "Now, maybe she's more real to you."
          "Jeez, Hinkley, you're the asshole."
          Dirty billowing clouds of shame enveloped Maizie, and she showed her fear and outrage with a scream from deep inside that should have brought security men to Women's Apparel. But no one came to help. The fourth floor of Macy's remained quiet except for the buzzing of a couple fluorescent lights. As the two men picked her up and began to carry her off, her world faded to black.
          Later she slowly awoke. Although she could see nothing, she guessed the men had put her in some type of bin that smelled of metal, cardboard, and rotting food. Maybe a dumpster? One arm was uncomfortable, twisted behind her back in an unnatural position, and her left leg was hyperextended, bent forward at the joint. She lay naked, alone in the chill, black air. She would have shivered if she could.
          With nothing to see, Maizie's mind drifted to happier thoughts, picturing the outfits she wore at her Macy's station and the customer's expressions of joy when they saw a dress or blouse they loved. All of the scenes passed in front of her eyes like a slideshow.
          Sometime later she gave an inaudible gasp as the lid lifted, the early morning light silhouetting a male figure. They're back, she thought. She tried to force her body deeper into the dumpster, panic gripping her. To her surprise, a pair of strong but gentle hands reached out and lifted her from her temporary coffin and carefully reclined her in the back seat of a white sedan whose motor was running. With tender touch, he straightened her arm and leg, turned her head to the side, and placed a pillow beneath it. He covered her with a blue Berkshire blanket, so no one could see her nakedness. Then, he settled into the driver's seat, and the car purred off into the morning light.


         

* * * * *

          Maizie sat at the breakfast table of Ted's Chelsea apartment. Today she was dressed in magenta - a sleeveless Calvin Klein dress cut just above the knees. A simple, braided hemp belt encircled her slender waist. A string of clustered freshwater pearls accented her slim, elegant neck while a steaming cup of fresh-brewed coffee rested on the woven, green place mat in front of her.
          All that she could ask for surrounded her. Ted's two bedroom apartment on the twenty-first floor offered a spectacular view of the top half of the Empire State Building and a sweeping vista of part of the upper Manhattan skyline. Ted had stuffed her bedroom closet with gorgeous outfits--all purchased at Macy's. He seemed to delight in helping select her daily wardrobe.
          Sometimes she missed the crowds at the department store. But the memory of the word "dummy" uttered by the man in the white jacket shook her back to reality. The memory of the two custodians assaulting her just shook her. She knew those two men who stripped off her clothes and violated her were probably still employed. Alas, she realized the customers never really cared about her, just what she wore.
          Here at Ted's she experienced things that more than compensated for not being in the public eye. Every night Ted tucked her into her bed and kissed her good night. Each morning the light greeted her, streaming through the window facing the East River.
          She didn't mind the hours spent alone while Ted worked. She sat on the sofa, eyes fixed on the panorama while surrounded by the musical tapestries of Mozart, Bach, Puccini, and others on classical radio. And when Ted arrived home from work at 5:00P.M., he entertained her with stories about his day. She lived a closeness with this man she never had at Macy's.
          This morning Ted chatted with an animation unusual for him. Tossing Maizie a loving, proud look, he said, "You know, Maizie - I probably shouldn't have - but yesterday I visited Macy's during my lunch hour. Just to check things out." He chortled and shook his head. "I heard the sales clerks talking about the infernal machine that took your place. It's been breaking down so often David is about ready to throw it down the elevator shaft. He kept mumbling 'Oh, for the good old days. Oh, for the simple days. Maizie was smarter than all of these new-fangled machines.'
          "But folks need to live with their choices, don't you think? Oh, you're just a simple, old-fashioned girl, Maizie. I thank my lucky stars they made a choice to go electronic. I'm so sorry that someone was mean to you." He glanced at her breasts. "But each day when I wake up, and each time I come home, I'm so happy. Because I know you'll be here. Maizie, I can always count on you."
          Grabbing his overcoat, Ted gave her a peck on the cheek. "I'll see you after work, my love," he said before the door latched behind him.
          As Maizie heard the door click shut, she realized deep within that he would reenter the same door at 5:30, just as he promised, and make her the center of his world. Yes, she could always count on Ted.