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Quickly, I throw on my wig cap, followed by my blonde wig. Not wanting to fuss with it too much right now, I throw my favorite purple beanie on.
My mission for right now is to find a few things that bring me joy, however small they might be. I need to smile at something—anything.
When I get to Target, I’m already tired. But I force myself to walk inside and get a cart. I start strolling around the store, waiting for something to catch my eye. It doesn’t take long once I get into the clothing section, specifically the pajamas.
I’m a sucker for anything cozy and soft. Target has shorts and button-up short-sleeved shirt sets that are my absolute favorite. I can’t resist grabbing the lilac set with white stars all over it. It’s cute, and I need it.
Remembering that I need some kind of Barbie-themed outfit for Saturday, I wander into the clothing section, scanning for anything hot pink or pink in general.
No clothing steals my attention right away, but a cute elderly couple sure does. The woman is holding up different sweaters, and the man is sitting on a display with his cane propped between his legs, watching her with the most endearing smile. He offers his opinion on each sweater she lifts up in front of her, his opinion never wavering. He says it looks perfect and would look great on her. They are so sweet. For a moment, I picture it being Reed and me, sitting here at eighty, while I decide what color I want, and he can’t stop telling me that each one looks better than the last.
My chest feels like an elephant is sitting on it as I picture a future we’ll never have together.
Goddammit. I didn’t come to Target to cry.
Forcing myself to stop staring at the adorable couple, I push my cart away from the fashion department and head to toys. I want to leave, go curl up in a cozy blanket, and stay there forever. But I can’t. I have to keep going.
If Abby is having a Barbie-themed party, I feel that at least part of her gift should follow that too. Walking into the colorful aisle lined with Barbies of all shapes and sizes, accessories galore, and plastic pink mansions, I wonder what would grab Abby’s attention first. I know from my time with Reed that she has quite the collection, so I’m looking for anything I don’t recognize.
No way.
There’s a Barbie hanging up that looks similar to Abby. Quickly, I read the packaging and learn that the Barbie doll has Down syndrome. Finally, a doll that she can truly identify with. But I can’t imagine she doesn’t already have this. Anyone that knows Abby and has any kind of relationship with her would know her love for Barbies and immediately buy this for her.
Pushing myself past my comfort zone, I pull my phone out and start typing a text to the one person who would know or at least be able to check—Reed’s mom.
Me: Does Abby have this yet? If not, I am definitely grabbing it for her.
I attach a quick picture of the doll.
Waiting for a text back, I place the doll gently in my cart and search for more stuff I can get her.
My phone vibrates. Once it does more than once, tingles run down my back.
Flipping it over, I see Reed’s mom calling me.
Fuck. Do I answer? I can’t ignore it, right? Ahh! God. Okay, you got this.
Clearing my throat, I answer, “Hello?”
“Hey, Charlotte! I hope calling is okay. I’m driving, and it’s just easier,” she says.
“Yeah, of course,” I agree.
“I cannot believe you found that. It must be brand-new because I know we would for sure already have, like, ten of them if it wasn’t.” She laughs. “Please feel free to get that for her, but also don’t feel the need to go crazy on a gift. More than anything, she just wants to see you again.”
My heart can’t take any more pain.
Since I’ve known her, she has been like a little sister to me, and I love that girl. I would do anything for her. Which is also why I want to spoil her for her birthday.
“While I appreciate that, there is no way I can pass up the opportunity of watching her open a present.” I chuckle, and the sensation surprises me.
“She sure does love gifts, doesn’t she?” I can hear the smile in her words.
“Yeah…” I trail off. “The doll is in my cart and coming with me, so the package is secured.”
“Perfect,” she says, and silence begins to eat me alive as neither of us knows what to say.
“Well, I will see you on Saturday. Thanks for getting back to me,” I tell her, deciding I can’t physically bear to hear her voice any longer.
