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Brenna stared out the window as houses and buildings rushed by in a blur. Time and again, she looked over at Roshan, seeking reassurance, listening to the calming sound of his voice as he explained what he was doing, telling her the names for the various parts of the car— steering wheel, radio, dashboard, gearshift, gas pedal, brake pedal. He showed her how to turn on the radio and the inside of the car was suddenly filled with music, though it was music such as she had never heard before.
A short time later, she saw a building that looked big enough to hold her entire village and everyone in it.
"That's the mall," he told her as he pulled around the corner and into the parking lot.
They stopped moments later. He showed her how to unfasten her seat belt and open the door, then helped her out of the car.
Taking her by the hand, he led her across an expanse of black ground, though it was like no ground she had ever seen. They entered the building through a large door made of steel and glass.
Brenna glanced around. There were lights everywhere, and, to her amazement, trees. There was also a fountain. And noise! So much noise. Music that seemed to come from the walls, the sound of people talking and laughing, babies crying. The air was filled with a myriad of scents she could not identify.
"This is a place to shop," Roshan explained. "You can buy just about anything you want or need here."
She nodded, her gaze darting everywhere at once while Roshan read the names of the various stores aloud: Mrs. Field's Cookies; Robinson's-May; Mervyn's; the Disney Store; Sears; Bed, Bath and Beyond; Suncoast; Everything But Water; Waldenbooks.
She couldn't help staring at the people that rushed past them. Girls with pink curls, boys with hair rising from their heads in long spikes. And their clothing! It was scandalous. In her day, a woman was considered naked if she was caught wearing nothing but her shift, but these women! They wore clothing that revealed their arms and legs and, saints above, their stomachs!
She was staring at a boy wearing a shirt with no sleeves and breeches so low on his hips she wondered that they didn't fall off, when Roshan led her into one of the stores.
Again, she found herself staring, this time at shelves of shoes and boots in every style and color imaginable. He led her to a moving staircase. She balked when he tried to lead her onto it.
"Come on," he said. "There's nothing to be afraid of. This is an escalator. Quite safe. Step onto it when I do." He took a firm hold on her forearm. "Ready?"
She nodded uncertainly.
"Let's go."
She gasped as she put her foot on the bottom step, would have fallen if he hadn't been holding her arm. Before she could decide what to make of this new mode of transportation, they had reached another level, which was just as crowded and noisy as the last.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Roshan asked.
Moments later, he turned her over to a tall woman wearing a severe black dress. After giving the woman instructions to help Brenna pick out everything she needed, no matter the cost, he found a chair and sat down to wait.
Brenna felt a rush of embarrassment as the woman studied her appearance, taking in her wrinkled dress, her boots, her uncombed hair.
The next two hours were a little frightening at first. The woman took her from place to place, showing her all manner of clothes, asking which ones she liked. Brenna was embarrassed when the woman asked her her size and she didn't know the answer.
After a time, her arms laden with clothing, the woman took Brenna into a small room. Brenna was startled to see her reflection staring back at her. Somewhat timidly, she put her finger on the glass.
"It's all right, I assure you," the woman said. "No one is watching you from the other side."
"The other side?" Brenna took a step back, wondering if the mirror was a magical doorway to the hereafter.
"The other side of the mirror. I know some women feel uncomfortable ever since that story came out on the Web about dressing rooms with two-way mirrors, but I can assure you that you don't have to worry about that here."
Not wanting to show her ignorance, Brenna kept silent. A story on the web? What did spiders have to do with mirrors?
While Brenna was still pondering this new mystery, the woman began unfastening Brenna's dress. It was a new experience, having a woman assist her while she tried on intimate apparel. New but necessary, she thought as the woman helped her into something called a bra, then handed her something called panties. Brenna marveled not only at the bright blue color, but at their silky texture, as well.
"They are nice, aren't they?" the woman said, smiling.
"Yes, indeed, but… is this all there is to them?" Brenna held them up. "I mean, they do not cover very much."
She blushed when the woman laughed and assured her that the briefs, however brief, covered all that was necessary.
Brenna tried on slacks and blouses and nightgowns, dresses and skirts, slips both long and short, marveling at the variety of colors, the rich texture and needlework of each garment. Her own clothes seemed drab indeed when compared with such finery!
Roshan was waiting for her when she stepped out of the trying-on place. She stood there, wearing a pair of jeans and a pretty dark green sweater, waiting for his reaction, surprised to find that she cared what he thought. She had never worn pants before. Though they were very snug and felt very odd, she had liked them immediately. Still, she couldn't help glancing around, wondering if people were staring at her, scandalized that the shape of her legs and her bu**ocks were clearly outlined for all to see, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to her at all, no one but Roshan. Embarrassed by his frank gaze, she looked down at her feet. Never before had she worn shoes that felt so light, almost as if she were barefoot.
When she looked up again, Roshan smiled at her. "You look terrific," he said, his voice husky. "Beautiful."
His words filled her with pleasure. "I feel very strange."
"Did you get everything you need?"
She glanced over her shoulder to where the saleslady stood, her arms laden with clothing. "I think I have far more than I need."
"Just let me pay for all this," he said, laughing.
"With what will you pay her?"
"Money, of course." He held up what looked like a piece of small, hard paper. "This is a credit card. I give them this card and they send me a bill for the amount due."
She nodded. She had rarely seen money. A few shillings now and then, a Spanish rial once. At home, she'd had little need for coin. She had bartered her potions for foodstuffs and other essentials.
