I sifted through the clothes, diligently scanning the bright items on the rack. I fingered through every one, testing the fabric for its strength. Pink, blue, red, gray, meticulously, I passed each item, analyzing the cloth and texture. Finding nothing, I looked around for inspiration. The place was a blur. All the girls around me confidently strode from rack to rack, pulling off random clothes from both left and right. Like robots, they would grab one without another thought, and head straight for the dressing room.
I turned back, letting out a long sigh and readied myself to scan over the next aisle of clothes. Setting my shoulders back and lifting my chin, I was determined to pick at least one thing from this store. I ran my hand down the sleeves of the sweaters, and stopped immediately. One piece had caught my eye. I grabbed the hangar, and gingerly pulled out the shirt. It was a simple light blue knit sweater, and I gazed at it, loving the details of the clothing.
“Sarah! Where are you?” the loud yell of my mother flooded into my ears.
Quickly, I shoved the sweater back, turning around to face her.
“Here,” I blocked the sweater, trying to shift her line of sight from what I was looking at.
“Did you find anything? We’ve been here for hours, and I was thinking it was time to leave,” she shifted here pile of clothes for my brothers to her other arm, stretching out her wrist.
“Er, not really, I’m still looking.”
“Did you find anything pretty? I’ll help you; show me something you thought was nice.”
I groaned inwardly. The same procedure always went the same way. But still, I stepped to the side and pointed at the sweater.
Silence. I could tell by the way she looked at it; she was going to give me one hell of a tough time for picking out this item.
“This is such an ugly color.” She felt the fabric, quickly dropping it back down. “You can’t go around wearing this; it’ll make you look like a grandma.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, there was nothing else.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes I’m sure.”
Her eyes scanned down the aisle. She grabbed her purse, and adjusted it so it would rest higher on her shoulder, gently placed her pile of clothes on top of the clothing rack, and walked confidently to a royal blue flannel. Turning around, she smiled at me, displaying her finding.
“That’s so pretty,” I exclaimed, watching how the material glided over her hand. She went back to searching, and like the other girls around us, mechanically pulled out different pieces, nodding her head in approval.
“There were so many nice ones, how come you settled on that sweater?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I settled down next to the pile of clothing, waiting for her to finish picking out my portion of clothes.
“How’s this one Sarah?”
I didn’t turn my head. “Yeah it’s great.”
“Why aren’t you looking around? There is so much nice stuff here,” quickly pulling out a cream tank top, my mom’s eyes shone in appreciation.
“Oh I don’t know, maybe because you always shoot down what I want to wear,” I muttered under my breath.
“What did you say?” she absentmindedly compared two other pieces, scrunching her eyebrows in concentration.
“I didn’t think that sweater was that bad. You know, some people actually think it’s pretty.”
“Well, it’s all on the person right?”
“Then why don’t you ever approve of something I pick?” I stood up, crossing my arms.
She stopped, shifting a little to see me. “If I did that, then you wouldn’t know what was nice right?” She resumed to her orderly picking, scrutinizing the items and tossing out the one that didn’t meet her standards, like a hunter choosing the best dear to kill. “So how about this one Sarah?”
I paused. “I hate it.”
She looked taken aback, hurt registering on her face.
“I only said that so you would know what was nice, right?”