Life before her

Everyday there is a new tragedy. I'm too afraid to look at the news. I can't tell the difference between channels. A failed college dropout in their 20s. My parents physically together, but emotionally divorced. My father, he lives in his movies. It's been days since we last spoke. It started with redbox, then blockbuster, and now he just lives at the movie theater.

She, my mother works to avoid her reality. Outside the suburbs, closer to the skyscrapers, it gets more noisy.

"STOP Quinn from Passing Bill 25"

"What is wrong with Quinn? Don't you think that a man of that age and status should know better?"

"Uh-huh"

I barely respond to a barrel of rhetorical questions from my mother. Business hasn't been doing well since Quinn became president. I go through the daily routine: open sign, lights,  radio.

"Get ready for today's hottest hits. It's 96.5 now at 10. Morning to night 24/7."

The music starts. As the songs play throughout the day. I begin to realize a pattern. The same group of people are selected. It's as if the different voices all become a part of one functioning album.

I sit in a red barstool seat. Mom online shops using the mindset of window shopping. She opens multiple tabs on one browser. The computer freezes, and she gets frustrated. Lately, the annoying radio DJ is my only company. 

"Hi, does anyone work here."

Both my mom and I get up. My mom pushes me to the side to get ahead.

"Yes, I can help you. What do you need?"

A woman in her late thirties approaches her. 

"I need a dress for a party."

My mom answers.

"What style and color are you looking for?" Her limited knowledge in English makes her ask questions in a direct way.

The woman pulls out a swatch from her bag. There is a piece of fabric attached to some white cardboard in the shade of sienna. 

"Hi, I don't have any idea what this color is. I am the maid of honor and my friend wants me to find dresses in this color. Can you help me?"

My mom begins to look through different fashion wholesalers. While, I search through the magazines of various companies. I compile a few dress styles that come in copper, sienna, and reddish brown. The customer takes the books away from me haphazardly. A stack of catalogues topple. She chooses to look through the thickest book. The title reads 2025 Spring with a model on the cover. After flipping through the book, she dogears a few pages.

"I would like to see this one. Do you have this in-store?"

She leads her to a rack full of dresses in the color sienna.

"Here's my name and phone number. Thank you. I will be in touch." 

And just like that it's 6 p.m.