Too Much Heaven/ A Short Story

Chapter 2 / TOGETHER AGAIN

I drove for an hour this morning. I left early to be able to watch the sun come up on the snow capped mountains. I love that our day will be perfect weather with just enough sunshine, but I still get to see the snow. I always have my window down. The radio plays the perfect song by Kenny Loggins and Jim Messina,

People smile and tell me I'm the lucky one

And we've just begun

Think I'm gonna have a son

He will be like she and me, as free as a dove

Conceived in love

Sun is gonna shine above

And even though we ain't got money

I'm so in love with you honey

And everything will bring a chain of love

And in the mornin' when I rise

Bring a tear of joy to my eyes

And tell me everything is gonna be alright.

Maybe not so perfect because it makes me want a chain of love. I'll take the ball, chain, even some shackles right now. I don't mean that. I feel content. Oaky, ifty, fifty maybe. The fresh morning air is a gift from God. I look up to say a big thank you to God. The left side of my hair is spinning in circles like the dust bowl by the old shed. I arrive at the mall. It's the mall that Grandma loved because they offered those scooters for free. She would almost run people over zooming from store to store. I even remember feeling a gust as she would shoot by me in a hurry. Grandpa would sit near the one real plant, centered under the one skylight that bled the ugliest shade of yellow you've ever seen. He would become a feature there. While drinking "rip-off" coffee and sit on the "rinky-dink" bench he complained every time. It's a small mall. Maybe 12 stores and really dirty old casino-like carpet. Busy enough to make you dizzy and dirty enough to where you don't dare set your bag on the floor.

I park quickly in the first space. I walk into my favorite store. I want to get a few pieces of clothing that aren't covered in paint, oil, and that do not smell like pressed particle board. I walk near the beauty counter and feel inclined. I've decided to take one of my ideas for our sign shop and apply it to my love life. Advertise. I feel like the sample pallets of makeup at the beauty counter. Used. messy. Good enough to try, but not gratifying enough to commit to. Maybe someone is looking from afar, but no ones buying. Sometimes I daydream about one of my ex-boyfriends coming back, banging on my front door, yelling "I was a fool. You were perfect for me, I love you and I can't live without you" I have his pained and desperate face branded into my mind like the watermark on the stationary at my job. It's faint. I forget sometimes, but it's always there. Maybe Waylon still thinks about me. I hope he's okay.

I felt that way once with a lipstick. It was a spring color from the Cœur Femë Collecte counter. I stared at it for weeks like a guy building up the nerve to ask a girl out. It was a pale pinkish purple. Almost like a yogurt color. What I loved when I sampled it was it made my teeth look white. It glided so smooth on my lips, like when I paint with a newly opened paint. I had never found a pale pink or lilac or any pale color do that. They all usually make my teeth look like I've been chain-smoking since kindergarten. The young girl or 'artiste' at the counter tried to up-sale me on some coordinating items. I just stared at her ever so dazed as she talked about the best choices for my blotchy skin. How a certain mascara can balance my droopy eyes. Real fibers in their eyebrow remède to help with my hormonal casualty of sparse eyebrows. She brushed it on while saying "so vacant." Then she closed the consultation with bragging about how their products are cruelty-free. I actually felt like laughing as I thought maybe it was cruelty-free until the insults flew from a machine gun. I couldn't even respond, so I just I bought every last thing with a forced smile.