Of A Certain Age

The Best Friend

"I say sit this one out, babe. Your mom is right." Celeste gives me a concerned look as she holds up a blouse. I shake my head to tell her I don't like it. Celeste has convinced herself that she needs to reinvent her wardrobe for the new year. She's brought me along to one of the loud, heavily perfumed stores we like to shop at. Unfortunately, I'm not in a shopping mood today but I haven't seen Celeste since she's come home from Japan.

"You didn't see how upset he was. No one has ever made me feel that stupid in my life," I say. Since my meeting with Eliot, I've been trying to rack my brain as to what an acceptable show of gratitude would have been. I still don't know.

"Maybe you shouldn't be trying to impress someone who made you feel like a dummy." Celeste shrugs and drapes the blouse over her arm. She's more interested in feeling the material of all the shirts than hearing anything that I'm saying. I almost have to chase her around the store as she rushes from rack to rack, making sure to touch everything that appears even slightly appealing.

"I realized I never cared about what poor people must be going through. None of us do. He says they don't want Juventaserum. They want better lives, you know. Things like better education and healthcare-"

Celeste puts her free hand over her heart and makes an amused sound. "Yeah, you were totally wrong on that one. Why would a poor person want to live forever? What's the point of making a dismal, uninspired life even longer?"

"I thought it was what everyone wanted."

"I'm sure they're perfectly good people, but really, it's a matter of fairness. We'll contribute more to society, and spend more money, and... pay more taxes. Seems only fair we're the ones who get to stay. There isn't room for us all," Celeste says mindfully.

"They still don't deserve to die," I argue. I shake my head again when Celeste picks up a strappy silk dress. "Yellow washes you out. I like the blue one."

"Good call. I guess we have a different idea on what life is. This is a life, hon, not scraping together pennies for bus fare and disgusting food."

"That's what Eliot's co-op is for," I venture. "They distribute healthier food in the community, especially to children."

Celeste does a little trot so that she can get in front of another woman trying to check out. "Do you have a brochure in your purse or something?"

"I read it online. I wanted to know what I was walking into."

"Huh?"

"I want to go see it." I have to show Eliot I'm interested in how people like him live. I still haven't told my parents the truth about our conversation. Saying it went fine won't work much longer.

"Why do you think this is a good idea?" Celeste questions, accepting her shopping bag from the cashier. She pulls her cell phone out of her back pocket and whatever text she's reading becomes more important than my answer.

I want to say it's because I care about Eliot's work but I can't care about something I don't understand. It sounds less shallow than saying because I need to compromise with him and that's impossible unless I'm willing to meet him in the middle and stroke his ego a bit.

"I at least owe him an attempt to see where he's coming from."

Celeste clucks her tongue. "Not literally." We exit the store and she finally tears her eyes from her phone. She shudders at the cold air. The sky is that hazy periwinkle color it is just after it snows. Remnants of snow rest on the sod in the courtyard. All the stores face inward, lined up perfectly and painted bright colors. Despite the chilly weather, quite a lot of people are out shopping, walking their dogs, and drinking coffee. Doing things people without a care in the world do in the middle of the day.