Yeah, she’s mad. No one else eats ice cream at 10 o’clock at night in the middle of winter. The brightly-lit mall, beaming with Christmas lights, still has many shoppers scrambling to buy last minute gifts. Entire families wander in and out of department stores, hands full of supersized shopping bags, giggling and laughing. Emmy watches the scene and rolls her eyes. She isn’t here to shop.
She’s escaping family drama once again. Her parents are divorcing while her older sister is having a baby at eighteen. Screw Leah, Emmy thinks. Why do I always have to be the good girl? Why am I the daughter who has to hold everything together? She wants to cry and she wants to scream, but she can’t—she’s in public. Instead, Emmy sits near the fountain and binges on an ice cream cone, the third one she has had tonight. The creamy goo doesn’t even taste good, but it’s a necessary distraction; it slithers slowly down her throat, chilling her body.
Emmy hears footsteps coming her way. Thud thud thud. She slowly looks up at the noise. Chunky heels, skinny jeans, a slubby t-shirt, and black pixie hair. She’s a pretty lady, about 25 years old, but uses too much makeup for her age. She edges over and leans in close, bringing a whiff of musky tobacco smoke. Probably a druggie, Emmy scowls.
“Hey, what’cha doing over here all alone? What’s wrong with you?” the lady asks. She rips out a slim cigarette and takes a slow, deliberate puff in the no-smoking plaza. Disapproving passersby glare at the pixie-haired lady breaking the rules, but she just glares back, dark piercing eyes flaring. Emmy shifts away.
“My life is what’s wrong,” retorts Emmy. “My family is a mess. They all hate each other and I am tired of always being the mediator.” She flashes back to the phone call, then all the screaming, sobbing, and accusing.
“Oh, I see,” says the lady. Emmy wonders, why is she being so nosy? “Well, you don’t always have to be good, you know. It’s holiday season, after all. Everyone deserves a little treat once in a while. You could cause some trouble for your family. We’re in a mall, after all.” The lady smirks and looks Emmy in the eye. “If you know what I mean.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Emmy sees the Macy’s store. It’s Christmas season and Macy’s is flooded with shoppers even though the store is almost about to close. Emmy looks at all the twinkling Christmas lights. Then she sees rich girls, dressed in green tracksuits, giggling as they strut out with their shopping bags and designer handbags, blasting a wall of perfume right into the plaza. All of a sudden, something clicks inside Emmy’s head. She knows what she’s going to do.
For the first time all night Emmy smiles. “I’m going to go. Nice talking to you,” she says. The smoking lady simply rolls her eyes. Emmy walks over to the Macy’s entrance almost as if in slow motion. What she is about to do is so wrong, but at this point she doesn’t care anymore. There’s no nice girl anymore.
The girls’ thick perfume is still clinging onto Emmy as she walks into Macy’s. It’s supposed to smell fruity and sweet, but instead it just makes Emmy feel dirty. The remaining sales ladies smile through their thick eyelashes at Emmy, who appears to be just another rich kid expending her credit card.
Emmy heads over to the jewelry section and examines the bracelets on display. A gleaming red jewel catches her eye: ruby, her favorite stone. She picks up the bracelet, and takes a deep look at it. It feels icy cold and incredibly heavy, or maybe it is just her. She’s never done this before, and she can feel her heart pounding. The moment before Emmy sneaks the bracelet into her purse, she quickly glances around. Alarmed, she sees a saleslady 10 feet away, looking right into her eyes.
“It’s not good to steal, you know.” The saleslady’s name tag reads Charlotte. She had every reason to be furious, but instead she smiles kindly. Charlotte is pretty young, with ashy hair and light eyes. But even through all the dark eye makeup she looks understanding.
“I wasn’t going to steal anything,” defends Emmy. “I was just looking at this bracelet. That’s all.”
Charlotte walks closer. “You know, when I was about your age, my mother died from lung cancer. I was in a funk for about a year, and I began shoplifting just to escape from the hurt.” This suddenly strikes a chord, getting Emmy’s attention.
“Did you ever get caught?” Emmy’s voice is barely a whisper.
“Yes, I did.” Charlotte replies. “I lost a scholarship because of it.”
“My brother died in a car accident last month,” Emmy admits. “Now my parents blame each other for his death and are they’re getting a divorce. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only thing holding my family together. I have to break up their fights. It’s like me against the world. It’s awful.” She sets the bracelet back down, finally feeling the sweat all over her hands.
“I’m so sorry for your loss sweetie,” says Charlotte kindly. “But the pain will go away. Time will get you through this. You should go home, sweetie. Your parents are probably worried about you. Stay out of trouble, okay?”
Emmy nods and trudges toward the door. Now she really feels like crying. Emmy waits until she makes it into the safety of the plush seats of her Ford Fusion in the cold parking lot, and then the tears start streaming out. Life is so tough, but maybe time will fix everything, she thinks.
Emmy turns on the radio to a soothing country station and starts the journey back home. It’s almost midnight. Hopefully the house will be silent by the time she gets back.