ACQUIRED: reWIRED edition

4. Cosmetic

           

I drove to one of the dying shopping malls on the west side of the city. Most of the name stores had long since vacated the mall, and the empty space was filled by mall-only semi-off brand retailers. The chances that I'd see anyone who knew Marilyn here seemed unlikely if the cut of her suit and the size of the ring on her finger were any indication. Still, there was no point in being too reckless, even if I did seem to be acting on impulses that didn't seem to be coming wholly from myself.

It took a moment, though, to work up the nerve to leave the car and enter the mall. As good as I looked, I suddenly felt like a counterfeit. Worse than that, I was sure that no matter how perfect I thought the simulacra was, it would take only a moment for someone to look at me and see right through the clever facade. These strangers would see me. They'd point and laugh. Or call the police. Or hurt me.

I sat behind the wheel of the car with the doors locked, just watching the entrance to the mall. It was in the afternoon on a weekday. Hardly anyone was coming or going. It was a short walk to the mall. I could do it. But then what? Inside it would be worse. I'd have to buy things, things I had only a basic understanding of. Salesgirls would mock me. Other customers would whisper or think terrible things.

This was all suddenly seeming like a terrible mistake. The more I thought about it, the more the fears started piling up. The distance from the car to the mall seemed to be growing, an infinite hallway extending out in front of me. No, no, this wasn't going to happen. I'd drive back home as quickly as I could and shut the door and lock it and never do any of this ever, ever again.

I was sweating a little. I mopped my brow, looked in the rearview mirror, became painfully aware that I wasn't wearing makeup. In the harsh light of day, I looked less put together. In the harsh light of day, I looked, frankly, like hell. This would never work.

<MAI LORNG MAI ROO>

The thought, which was accompanied by a blink-and-you'll-miss-it flash of text across my eyes, snapped me out of the spiraling panic attack. I found my hand on the door latch, found myself exiting the car and shutting the door behind me and now striding purposefully across the parking area to the mall entrance. There was no telling how long this surge of bravery was going to last, but I was now almost to the doors. Another deep breath and I was in.

The mall had maybe a dozen other people wandering around the two main levels. I'd come in at the top and could see down into the atrium below. All but dead. A few shoppers passed me without so much as a look. The overall fear subsided. When I passed a small kiosk and the man behind it smiled at me and offered to give me a demo of his company's new automated styling assistant, I relaxed completely. If anyone saw anything odd about me, they were keeping it to themselves. I suddenly felt silly for being scared. Being in here, walking in this borrowed body, becoming more and more accustomed to its gait until it felt completely natural, I felt an overall lightness of being. The voice in my head was quiet. I was Marilyn and I was here to shop and that felt very good indeed.

Best to get the hard one out of the way first, I decided. Ahead there loomed the big pink-and-black interior of a store selling women's intimates. Every step I took in these boxer briefs was uncomfortable and while the baggyish track top hid any major fashion problem with going braless, I was noticing it was uncomfortable. The big swinging steps my hips seemed happiest making made the breasts bounce too much, and after too many steps, there was an uncomfortable and painful tug with each step.

I'd only ever been in these stores on holiday errands during the seasons when I'd been fortunate enough to be dating exactly the kind of woman who wanted lingerie as a Christmas gift. Here on more practical and specific errands, I was suddenly overwhelmed with options. If you left the impractical land of lace and crotchless and entered the everyday section, there were suddenly a dizzying array of bra types, all with unhelpful names and descriptions. Did I want lift? Wires or no wires? Sexy or Drop-Dead or Breathless?