Frost

History Lessons

Jack worked for two weeks and used his “paychecks” – cash Zach handed to him in an envelope on Saturday before he left the Beanery – on a shopping excursion with Mari. It required him to put in for time off, and she shoved a travel mug of French roast from their kitchen into his hands as payment for being up at what he considered the crack of dawn on the weekend.

They drove two hours to a shopping center in Plattsburgh. He slept for most of the ride, the travel mug forgotten in the cup holder under the console. She kept the radio low, and practically twitched with the need to bounce Jack’s head off the window in order to wake him up once she’d found a parking space.

She leaned on the horn, instead.

He came awake with a flail, ramming his elbow off the door and blinking owlishly at the sight of unmoving cars through the windshield.

“We’re here,” she said brightly, taking the keys from the ignition and dropping them in her coat pocket.

Jack needed a few moments to orient himself before he could open the door, and he followed her across the plowed parking lot toward an entrance. He goggled at the amount of people, and balked at going through the anti-theft devices at the mouth of a Target. She grabbed his wrist and dragged him through; he twisted in her grip so their hands were palm to palm. Mari let it slide for a second or two before letting it go in favor of gripping his parka sleeve.

“Ma’s gonna let you keep the parka, so we don’t need to get you a coat,” she said, steering him into the men’s department. “Some jeans, shirts, flannel. Socks and boxers, too.” She stopped, eyeing him critically. “I have no idea what size you are. Maybe a medium?”

“I am sixty-seven inches tall,” Jack said. “Does that help?”

“No.”

She began handing him hanger after hanger with the instructions to “just try it on, you can worry about color later,” and once he was sure he was going to drop what he had in his arms, she steered him into a dressing room.

“What am I supposed to do in here?” he asked from behind a closed door.

“You take off your clothes, and put the new ones on to see if they fit and how they look.” Mari dragged the stiffly-padded chair over by the mirrors and plopped herself in it after taking her coat off.

“Just – just the pants and shirt, right?”

“Yes,” she said slowly. Sometimes it was too easy to forget Jack hadn’t spent even three weeks as a human, and it was for that reason she felt compelled to add, “Please don’t try things on without your underpants on.”

Rustling fabric dominated the silence, along with a grunt. She waited, and sure enough Jack’s mortified voice asked, “If these are supposed to be worn with undergarments then why are they so tight?”

“Go up a size or two, Jack,” she said, pulling her hair over one shoulder and beginning to braid it. “I didn’t give you any pairs of skinny jeans.”

“Skinny jeans? Who in their right mind thought men would want skinny jeans?”

Mari bit her lip to stop the laugh that bubbled up. Fashion sense was difficult for many people to grasp, and they had the distinct advantage of being born into human society. She was quite sure Jack would be ecstatic if they were to find him some breeches and a loose shirt in the same manner he’d been wearing when they first met.

Which, when she thought about it, wasn’t as far back as it felt.

The lock on the door slid back and Jack walked out. She eyed him subjectively; the jeans fit him nicely, though he might need a belt to stop them from slipping down his hips any further, and his coloring looked good in the blue plaid button down he’d thrown over a white long-sleeved shirt.