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Chantara looked around, surveying the pink floral wallpaper, the black and white checker pattern on the floors, the red countertops and all the racks of clothes and oddities tucked in corners and on stands throughout the store.
“Wow. This is really cool.”
“See, I told you. You didn’t believe me that it would be better than another boring admin job.”
“You’re right. It wasn’t really that, I just know how much money you were making before and-”
“It’s okay,” Callie hurried to assure her. “I didn’t want another admin job. I’ve always hated sitting behind a desk all day and I just finally realized that I was never going to like it, no matter how good the pay was. All the extra money just goes to taxes anyway. I’ll be okay.”
“Really? Because I can pay more than half the bills and-”
“No. Really. It’s okay. I like it. It’s funky. And I get the clothes for half off. I’m not allowed to give anyone a discount, friend or not, but if you see anything that you think looks good on me. You know- really, really good and you think it would just be stunning on and would be something you’d ever like to- uh- borrow- you can let me know.”
Chantara grinned. “Yes. Right.” She took her time browsing around.
Callie finished up the mannequin and came over to help sort through clothing racks. “Are you on lunch time? It’s early. It’s only eleven.”
“Yeah. I took it early and saved up my breaks for the past few days so that I could have a little bit of extra time to get down here. I really wanted to come see where you work.”
“Awww. Next time, can you bring me a latte? Those green tea ones I like?”
“Sure. My treat.”
“No way. You don’t have to-”
“Seriously, it’s a latte. You’re my best friend. You should let me treat you once in a while.” The look Chantara gave her spoke volumes. It said that it wasn’t all about overpriced green teas. It was also about life. Like- all of it.
“Right.” Callie was sure she was a little bit red. She felt her face heat up and carefully looked away, searching for some kind of project that needed her attention. She tried and failed to come up with something. The store was clean. Everything was organized. There were no other customers.
“I totally forgot I wanted to show you this dress,” she finally mumbled.
It turned out, she had, and she remembered just in time. She pulled out a purple dress with white polka dots. It wasn’t her style, but she knew Chantara would love it.
“Oh!” Callie could see Chantara tried not to be swayed by her distraction. Tried and failed. She came over and touched the dress. “It’s soft. I thought all vintage clothing was itchy and scratchy.”
“Nope. Not always. Though some of it really is. I have to wear it to work here. I can borrow it and bring it back after I wash it. I don’t have to buy it since it is a minimum wage job and the owner knows I wouldn’t be able to afford it right off the bat. I’ve pulled some things out that I liked, but god, they were horrible. Just like, flake your skin right off itchy.”
Chantara winced. “I can see that. I like that plaid skirt over there, but I’m not even going to give it a try.”
“Yeah. Not that one.” Callie nearly laughed. She knew Chantara would see that skirt if she came in when it was still in the store. It nipped in at the waist and flared out at the knees. It was adorable, red with little green and yellow plaid stripes. “But it’s straight wool. It made my fingers fuzz just to hang it on the hanger.”
“Alright, I’ll take the dress. You don’t have to worry about getting it for me. I can support your shop. It’s a good deal. Thirty bucks is a steal.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
As Callie walked to the till, rang the dress in and bagged it up, she felt a little bit like crying. She couldn’t say what it was. Maybe it was everything. Chantara’s absolutely kindness. Her willingness to always be there no matter what it took, including all the little gestures that no one else would even think of. It was everything else too, but she didn’t want to think about that.
She didn’t want to think about how she lays awake well into the night, thinking about Matt, wondering what he was doing. She didn’t want to admit that she wanted to tell him she was sorry too, for the fact that she’d been fairly rude and lost in her own pain. She wanted to tell him thanks, at the very least. She wanted to tell him she’d be okay, even if she wasn’t sure she would be. She wanted to tell him so many more things, how she wanted to believe that what he said was true. That not all guys were Ben. How she wanted so desperately to trust. How she was lonely, but not just any kind of lonely. She missed him. The things he’d said had really sunk in once she’d given them a chance. She just didn’t know what to do with that exactly.
