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The first time had been an accident and she would have snorted at the indignant look on Dannie's face -- like it was really that inconceivable for the wink to be directed at her instead. Only, she was too busy blinking at the receding figure. Leather glove and fluffy fur coat that actually looked genuine; any other time, she might have rolled her eyes. It took all her willpower to wrench her gaze away from the door back to the unimpressed man waiting for her to ring up his order.
He didn't appreciate the two extra zeroes at the end of his payment slip on her first attempt either.
A honest mistake, really. If anyone could use an extra $2000, it was probably Oscar, so he could finally replace the manual cash registers to make coming into work every day not feel like stepping back into the 1650s. And then maybe -- maybe -- they could actually avoid mistakes like keying in the wrong number because they were too busy staring -- not drooling, at least -- at somebody walking out of the door. Just her two cents.
But Oscar didn't care about that so Therese kept her mouth shut and nodded wordlessly as he launched into another rant, wondering again if he really didn't notice her head was bobbing to the beat of the music instead.
"-- Jesus Christ, Terry, I will not -- absolutely not -- have the FTC busting my ass now, after having a clean record on this joint for 25 years. Twenty-five, you hear? You even understand the dedication it takes to work twenty-five years in this industry and still have a clean slate? For it to get ruined because… Jesus, I can't even -- what were you thinking?!"
Nope. Oscar definitely did not care if she got arthritis from typing those ten digit item codes.
Whatever. She was out of this hellhole in a week anyway. Sooner, if any of the guys at Workplace Health and Safety took any of their complaints seriously and got to Oscar before that.
The hour-hand of the clock hanging over the door dipped to six.
Therese raised her hand. Oscar was surprised enough to shut up.
"So, um, we'll continue this tomorrow?"
If looks could kill.
She fled before Oscar could edge in another word.
Therese answered the call on the third ring and swore.
"Yeah, hello to you too," Dannie said drily.
She heaved a sigh of relief. "I thought you were Richard."
"Huh. He still leaving those drunken voicemails?"
"Mm."
"It's been six months."
"Ye-ah."
"I'd do that if Louise broke up with me, I think."
Therese snorted. "That's not a compliment, Dannie."
"What. I'd think about doing that." He actually sounded affronted.
She sighed. "You aren't even going out with her. You-- have you guys even gone on a date?"
"Yep," he said, popping the p. She imagined him preening in front of the mirror. Sadly, it probably wouldn't be too far from the truth. "Drinks, tonight."
In the lull of the conversation, Therese walked back to the kitchenette and peered into the pan. Satisfied, she flipped the grilled cheese and it sizzled as it fell back onto the pan, golden brown on the side that was done. Perfect.
"That dinner?" Dannie asked.
"For one, yes." Ten hours of work was well, well past her limit for social interaction. "You called for something, by the way?"
"You know what. Secret Santa. Oscar. How's the gift-wrapping going?"
"Do you really have nothing better to do?" she sighed.
"You kidding?" Dannie exclaimed. "No."
Therese laughed. He was such a kid sometimes. She decided not to think about how he was two years older as she scooped the grilled sandwich from the pan and headed to the table. "Okay, it's literally…right…here--" she dug the plastic case out of her bag triumphantly only to frown at the sight of the cover.
Dream Big, Princess!
Elsa, a big smile and friendly wave; and Mulan, arms akimbo and sporting a cocky grin. And Ariel. Belle. Aurora. Jasmine. What. The. Hell.
She rewinded the entire day to the soundtrack of Terry Terry Terry.
"Don't call me that," she snapped, and that was the exact moment she recalled two things. First, the rich, low, delicious voice that had curled warmly around the words thank you as a pair of hands reached out to receive the bag that contained none other than Crazy Frog in all his gleeful, maniacal glory, happy to be departing from the store as being thrown in the Secret Santa pile. Second, the jolt of feeling, like a blue-green afterimage of a bright light dancing behind her eyelids, and a further realisation -- she would do anything to see the woman again, and apparently, wishes did occasionally come true.
Therese blinked, and she was back in her tiny studio apartment again with Dannie's voice buzzing annoyingly in her ear. She glanced down at the table just in time to watch her plate -- sandwich onboard -- crash onto the floor.
"Shit."
As expected, the woman came back the next day.
Therese had played out the scenario in her head again and again the night before, a few times as nightmares. On the bright side, she was pretty sure now that grinning stupidly while the woman chewed her out probably wasn't a good idea. Also, in the off-chance that the woman did turn up wielding a giant candy cane and wanting to take a whack at her head, the best policy would be to duck, not stare. What any of them didn't prepare her for however was the woman approaching the counter with with an amused expression.
"Tell me I'm not seeing things," she hissed, prodding Dannie with an elbow.
He let out a single, pitiful snore and continued napping. Then, the woman arrived at counter.
"Hello," she said, flashing Therese a smile as she plopped her handbag down and started rummaging through it.
Therese played out the pop-eyed, incredulous expression she'd practised when the CD emerged in a perfectly manicured hand. The woman continued rummaging through her bag.
Okay, so staring dreamily while the woman threatened to file a complaint had never been a viable option but this,here, now was a perfect opportunity. She was actually starting to enjoy herself. Her mind started drifting. A thought popped into her head. She looks... expensive. Therese immediately screwed her nose in disgust. It was sort of true though. The woman did. In a good way. Whatever the hell that even meant.
The woman let out an annoyed huff and looked up. There was a spot of pink stained onto her teeth where she had been biting her lip.
"You have lipstick," Therese blurted out.
"Pardon?"
"Your teeth," she added weakly.
"Observant, aren't you," the woman said, and even the act of cleaning up smudged lipstick was an elegant look on her. She looked up once she was done, scrutinising Therese further. "Would it be presumptuous to assume you'd remember a customer from yesterday?"
"No, I remember you," Therese said; you winked at me and I almost got fired was left unsaid.
"Perfect," exclaimed the woman. "Look, I lost my receipt or something, but this isn't exactly what I bought yesterday."
Therese winced at the sharp rap delivered to Crazy Frog's left eyeball.
"I know."
"You do."
"No. Well, yes-- It was, uh…a dare. Oscar really hates insects. Lizards. Stuff like that. I mean, frogs are amphibians but it was the closest thing and the last time Axel F was on rotation in the store he almost dialled up an exorcist, so--" The woman blinked at her with a bemused expression, Crazy Frog's manic smile staring up at her from the counter. "Oscar is our store manager." That wasn't right response either. "What I'm trying to say is that I can get that replaced immediately." Therese scurried off to the returns and exchanges drawer in the corner.
"Dannie. Dannie!" she hissed.
His head popped round the the cupboard. "What?"
"Where's that CD I left here this morning?"
"Sold it, I think?"
"What?!"
The woman eyed her curiously as Therese made her way back to the counter, smile plastered painfully on her face. "Give me a minute, the stock gets all over the place over the holidays." She pulled up a search on the screen, already knowing how futile it would be. They'd been downsizing the CD section all year and of all CDs to stock, they sure as hell weren't going to have a spare copy of Dream Big, Princess lying around. No offense to the woman or any aspiring princesses out there.
"It's gone, isn't it?"
The disappointment in the woman's voice was pure torture. She needed to fix this. Badly.
"Could I have your number?"
Therese registered the amused curve in the woman's lips.
"No, no. Not like that!"
"Like what?"
Crap. She'd walked right into that one.
"We have an overnight delivery service. I was just thinking I could call to let you know when to pick it up." Therese explained hastily
"Well." The woman's expression bloomed into a beam, sudden and unexpected. "Sold." She scribbled something onto the blank side of a discarded receipt and handed it to Therese. "Carol," she said, holding her gaze long enough Therese was ready to ask if she'd somehow implicitly agreed to enter into a staring contest.
Then, just as suddenly, with a call me, the woman -- Carol -- swiveled on her heels and swept out of the store.
It had been a lie, obviously. Oscar was too cheap to even have a workable return policy in the shop, let alone an overnight shipping deal with Amazon. Her bank balance went from alarmingly low to time-to-check-out-the-friendly-neighbourhood-soup-kitchens by the time she'd checked the box for expedited shipping.
It didn't even have the decency to arrive on time the next day. Fifteen minutes into her shift, to a post office four blocks away, her phone pinged with a notification for the parcel.
"You think she's gonna come soon?"
Therese jumped. "Didn't I tell you to cut that crap?" she snapped.
Dannie laughed.
"I'm not waiting for anyone," she added glumly, running a finger over the extra bubble wrap cocooning the plastic CD case like a makeshift plastic mattress that, heck, had cost even more than the one lying over her bed frame. She made a face.
"Keep telling yourself that. Also, tell me if you see Oscar. I'm about to give Louise a ring."
"A what?!" She half-yelled, spinning back to face him.
"Uh. A ring? Phone-call? You know, the thing that happens when you punch a bunch of numbers into the phone?"
"Right. That. You're too cheap to buy her a ring anyway," Therese muttered after him, trying to ignore the lurch in her heart. A ring. Not from him -- that went without saying. Not from anyone any time soon. But there was this stupid, stupid, stupid hope -- no, thought -- that snaked its way into her mind.
If Dannie could get a girl on the first date…
Why not... Why couldn't...
The woman. Carol…
God, not marriage, or rings, or obligations of any kind. Just…she wanted-- why couldn’t Carol just smile… at her... not because she'd managed to get her the CD she wanted, but just…at her? What the hell?
Her cheeks were burning when she got the tap on her shoulder. She stifled a yelp -- it was Carol -- blushing a shade closer to a habanero. "He-llo."
"I got your text."
Therese brandished the parcel like a shield in front of her. "Yours."
"Remarkable. You actually managed to get it." Carol's sounded equal notes impressed and surprised.
She frowned."I said I would."
"I know," Carol said, in a slow, reasonable tone like she was talking to a child.
Therese ducked her head immediately, feeling stupid. She cleared her throat. "There was a signed copy -- Idina Menzel…" She couldn't think of another name, and the sentence trailed on limply. "And the, uh, others… Poster included. But you didn't specify and I didn't want to assume…"
It was supposed to show how she wasn't like the others; wasn't always trying to look for an angle, looking for a way to get a sale, then a bigger sale. It was supposed to show how she was different.
Therese glanced up and, instead, Carol's head was tilted in interest. "It was twice the price," she added, unhelpfully. Carol didn't care about the price. Everything about her said so.
"I could get it swapped if you wanted," Therese heard herself saying. She most definitely could not. But Carol's bright expression and the hopeful "you don't mind?" that spilled out was simply too hard to resist.
She might've felt more panicked by the number on her bank account if she weren't too busy congratulating herself for the ingenious idea. She would be seeing Carol again tomorrow.
Carol was there, back against the adjacent brick wall, when bleary-eyed and mid-yawn, Therese fumbled to unlock the shop.
"Hi!" she yelped. From Carol's oh, I'll be coming round to meet someone tomorrow anyway, she'd had assumed Carol meant dropping by from lunch, not first thing in the morning when she looked like fresh roadkill.
"Hi! Managed to get it changed?" Carol asked, too brightly. To be fair, she looked like she could have used some more sleep too.
Therese stared at her curiously. Now that she'd stepped closer, Carol looked sort of…tipsy?
Here was to hoping she was a happy drunk.
"I'm so sorry," Therese began, when she finally couldn't put it off any longer with the lights and heating switched on and the counter between them.
Carol slammed her bag onto the counter with a groan. "Use another word."
"You mean "sor--"
"Another word, goddamnit!" Carol snapped.
Okay. Angry drunk, apparently.
"There… there was an unexpected delay in the shipping. I just got the alert this morning," she said in a small voice.
"Of course there would be. When will it arrive soonest?"
"By the next work week." Therese bit her lip to stifle the odd impulse to smile. Nerves, most likely -- she didn't handle stress well -- but also, something about the thought of Carol needing to drop by yet again made her want to giggle.
"Damn it all."
"Sor--I mean, it's my fault."
"Don't do that. Please," Carol said tetchily. "Where's the one from yesterday anyway?"
"I had to send it in to get exchanged," Therese said, the humor draining right out of the situation. She felt sick again.
Then, because things always got worse when the opportunity arose, Carol fished a cigarette out of her pocket.
"Sorry--" Therese winced. "Store policy -- no smoking inside."
"Oh, hell." Carol dropped the cigarette back into her pocket with a defeated sigh. "Wouldn't want to risk burning up anything more. Overcooked turkey has the texture of boiled leather, did you know that?"
Therese smiled along uncertainly.
"I should go." Carol said, lifting her bag onto her shoulder.
"Don't," Therese said. She was loud enough to make Carol pause. "What about the CD?"
"Right. Just…" Carol made a vague, helpless gesture. "Do whatever you want with it when it arrives."
"You won't be dropping by next week?"
"Christmas is in four days, darling."
"It may as well not come if you leave now," she said hotly.
They stared at each other for a protracted moment, incredulously.
"I mean…whoever you're buying the Christmas gift for. It's a nice album and they'll be missing out on…a Christmas gift," Therese finished with a weak laugh.
"So what exactly are you proposing?" said Carol finally. "Know any elves who might expedite the shipping to my ex-husband's house? It's in New Jersey."
Therese thought back to Elsa and Mulan and the rest of the gang beaming up from the CD cover. Well. Who was she to judge, really.
"For my daughter," Carol supplied helpfully.
"I figured," Therese said quickly, in a strained voice that clearly said she had not figured that out. Not that she ought to have. That would be weird. She'd just known Carol for, like, three days.
"It's okay," Carol said after another pause. "Everything just ends up happening around Christmas, right?"
Therese nodded back dumbly and watched Carol walk away like it was the first day all over again. Her phone buzz when the door slid shut.
Expected disruption in the water services tonight 8-11pm. Deepest apologies! Issue with pipes at…
She sighed, not bothering to finish reading. Everything just had to happen around Christmas, didn't it?
"Somebody's looking for you."
"Not interested." She shifted in her awkward half-squatting position for a better angle to squint at the stock record sheet balanced precariously on her lap. The crossed out entry in the sales records had, according to Oscar, been enough evidence that she'd botched up yet another sale with her insufferable, self-entitled millennial attitude. It was only fair she had to suffer through an afternoon of sorting through the shithole of a storeroom.
"I'm serious. Come out here." Dannie sounded excited, which meant that it was probably Richard.
Therese sighed, immediately regretting the action when it dislodged five inches of dust that covered the surface of everything. She nudged the stack she'd been reshuffling into place with an elbow while directing a sneeze into the upper corner of her sleeve. The trick was to do just enough so that whatever was visible from the door looked dust-free.
"I swear, Therese. If you aren't out here in five secs, I'll take a shot at her myself."
"Way to go, Casanova," she shot back in a muffled scoff. "If you think anybody's choosing you over me, you're out of your--" her entire train of thought screeched to a halt. Who did Dannie say it was? She? As in…
She dropped the stack in her hand and bolted out.
Hello. There she was. Carol. By the counter, arms crossed and tapping her fingers impatiently -- Carol. By her side, Oscar chattered, chest puffed out, an earnest expression on his face. Therese had to resist the urge to snort until it dawned on her that was probably how she looked like talking to Carol too.
She grabbed Dannie by the collar, pulling him close. "Are you sure she asked for--"
"There you are!"
"--me?"
Oscar was left to chat up the cash register as Carol advanced towards her. "Therese, yes?"
"Yep," she squeaked.
"Just who I need." Carol clapped her hands together and cast her gaze round the store once. "Okay. I'm going on a road trip this weekend but all I've found sitting around so far is some Bon Jovi."
"You need new music."
Carol nodded seriously. "Exactly."
"Right, okay." Not exactly the weirdest request.
"By the way, is that man there your boyfriend?" Carol asked nonchalantly.
W-H-O?! -- said Therese's bewildered expression.
Carol angled her head towards the counter.
Oscar was running a hand through his hair, using the cash register as a makeshift mirror.
"No, no. God, no," Therese wheezed out through her laughter. "Why?"
"Just wondering." Carol said with a shrug. She was smiling when she picked the CD out of Therese's hand. "This one?"
She hadn't even realized she'd been holding anything. Therese stared until the upside down letters rearranged themselves into the album title.
Merry Christmas.
Underneath, the cursive squiggle Mariah Carey and, as though there was any possibility left to misconstrue the album theme, Mariah Carey in a Santa costume.
A+ creativity there, Terry.
Carol looked pleased anyhow. "Harge, my -- well, ex now -- husband absolutely hates her," she said, like it was some sort of twisted stamp of approval.
Well.
Whatever it took to keep her smiling like that.
"Pick another one," Carol prompted, and they continued down the aisle. In the end, she mostly just did the shufflling through the stack of CDs while Carol's hand shot out at intervals, picking the music out herself. They ended up with a tall, wobbling stack.
One more week, God damn, Therese thought, when she finally managed to wrestle the towering stack onto the counter.
One more week and heaven was opening its glorious arms to tuck her into its warm bosom that came in the form of an internship at the Black Cat Theatre.
Harvkey's oily smile as he had handed over the six-month contract floated into her head. Therese wrinkled her nose. Okay, so maybe nobody was getting tucked into nobody else's bosom, but the rest still held up though. New year new me. Cliche and all, it was finally happening.
"Do you want to get this shipped instead?" she asked, ducking her head out from the side of the stack in time to catch Carol's nod.
"It'll be there by the weekend, unless you want an express delivery," she said, accepting the filled-in delivery slip from Carol. There wasn't an place for a sense of victory. The phone number on the slip wasn't hers to keep. The splotch of ink that ended the hasty scrawl of an address was a firm, final full-stop. And yet.
A Madison Avenue address, Therese noted with a smile, feeling victorious.
It was way too early to be at work -- or way too late, depending on how you preferred to look at it. Although, all Oscar would see were two hands on a mission to the shop till and a getaway vehicle in her pair of legs. If he caught her. She still had a chance to get out of this mess, a voice -- the reasonable, reasoning part of her, so often absent of late-- reminded her, but she was just too weak.
Therese ducked her hand into the drawer under the till and extracted something shiny and square, sticky notes on steroids sized. A CD, but not just any CD. A Mariah Carey's Merry Christmas Christmas compilation album. Carol's Mariah Carey Merry Christmas Christmas compilation album. The plastic case glinted in the meagre pre-dawn light, and after a second of hesitation, Therese cracked open the case and stared down at it -- the smooth, glossy newness of an unplayed CD.
A pity, really. Not the she was definitely losing her job now bit. The five-star customer satisfaction rating I've toiled decades to establish. She could already picture Oscar, face radiant with anger, yelling with so much conviction she'd be left wondering yet again if he truly didn't realize the PickMyRecordStore.com rating was a number out of ten. Technically, she couldn't be fired if she was already leaving, right?
It really was a pity though, because Mariah Carey did have a nice voice. The Grammys had voted on it.
Therese unfurled her left hand and threw the coin nestled in her palm up in the air; caught it.
"Oh what the hell," she said, quiet voice bouncing off the walls in the deserted store. Then, before she could change her mind, she brought the coin down onto the disc and started scratching.
Six days. Six God damned days. Carol tapped her foot to an impatient beat as the elevator groaned its way up to the second story in the crummy arcade. It took exactly five loud mechanical belches to arrive, she knew by now.
In the beginning, it had been a split second decision. Her gaze falling onto the flashing arrow and pulsing neon glow that spelled out Music Wonderland, the shopping list -- already a crumpled indecipherable mess at the bottom of the trash -- came back to her.
#3 Rindy CD?
An errand in the guise of a question because even though Carol had picked out exactly what she wanted to give her, there was always the possibility that Rindy might have outgrown her music tastes since her last visit. It was hard to tell -- kids these days, at this age -- and she sometimes caught herself wondering if she was greeting a changeling the few times she was allowed to drop by. All it took was for Rindy to quirk her familiar smile for the entire world to settle back into place.
Her darling girl.
As opposed to this strange girl, Therese, looking up from her perch at the register the second Carol was through the doors. There was the faintest curve in her lips, like she was delighted to see her, yet again. Like she was pleased to have fucked up another order yet. Like she had known all along Carol would be back.
Carol unbuckled her gloves and rested them at the edge of the counter. "So."
"Carol."
"Therese."
She placed the CD down between them.
"Replacement or exchange?" Therese asked, an odd giggle slipping into her question.
Carol narrowed her eyes. What kind of game exactly was the girl playing? She cast her mind back to the last visit, at the "so, do you hand-deliver?" gem that had slipped out on a reckless whim as she handed back the filled-in delivery slip to Therese. The only response she had gotten had been a blank look, followed with "it usually comes in a truck. We outsource shipping to a third party company." So, that had been that. But then, there was also this, Therese and the impish grin unfurling over her face. This smile. One too many visits and Carol thought she might just…
Never mind. Hadn't there been a question? There had been a question. What was it?
"I… A replacement would be great."
"Sure. Give me a minute."
"Actually, I'm running late for something. Could you…?"
"The Madison avenue address?"
"Yes." Carol drummed her fingers on her thigh. There was no something she had to hurry off to, only an unplaceable instinct that was telling her to run, run fast, run the hell away from this place and the unmistakable thrill that Therese's smile was tugging up.
"Okay. I'll get my colleague to let you know when it arrives," Therese said, a little flatly.
"Taking Christmas off?" Carol asked.
"Not exactly. I got a job."
"Oh."
"Another job, I mean. Not this one."
"Congratulations."
They stood facing each other, a moment of pregnant silence that was almost pleasant with anticipation. Then, a phone rang. Not hers. The ringtone was too chirpy. Not that it mattered anyway, whoever the call belonged to. The moment was gone. Carol pocketed her new delivery slip with a small smile. "You've been a wonderful help the past few days, Therese. Merry Christmas."
It was only later, stopping the car at the junction and finding herself rubbing her hands together to ward off the cold in vain that she remembered the pair of gloves resting innocently on the shop counter.
They came back in the mail the next day.
There was a card.
And to you,
Merry Christmas.
-- Therese.
There was no harm in calling to thank her, was there? Returning something that could easily have pawned away for half a year's salary was exactly the warm, seasonal touch Carol had been searching for in the giant Colorado Spruce and multi-colored lights decorating her apartment that meant nothing now that there was nobody to celebrate the season with her. Also, Therese's reply, one day late. It was kind of cute. Carol found herself cracking a fond smile as she flipped the card over and ran her thumb over the surface, feeling the indentations of the script on the paper.
Yes, a call sounded just about right. Maybe even coffee.
Carol cleared her throat and reached for her phone, knowing well enough that she would extend an invitation to lunch instead, and that Therese would probably agree. And, for a change, that would make her very, very happy.