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“Forget these,” Makayla smirked, “not our style. Let’s get out of here and I’ll show you fashion, my dear. Real fashion.”
Speeding through the cosmopolitan city which was packed with street vendors and mobs of shoppers, Makayla turned into a parking garage which reeked of oil, dirt and exhaust fumes. They got out, the hum of cars from the streets and honking of horns echoing the garage as they walked to the elevator. Donja, still reeling from her transformation, felt her heart palpating as they rode the silver box up three levels. Finally, it halted its ascent and a bell dinged. After what seemed forever the chrome doors slid open, revealing a mall so ritzy that Donja gaped. It was packed with people and had an ice rink in the middle.
Makayla navigated past food vendors and off to one side Donja noticed an amusement park with a roller coaster that looped the entire mall. “Wow, this is incredible, Frankie would love it,” she mumbled as Makayla led them to a high dollar boutique that rivaled New York’s finest.
A classy lady with bouncy blonde hair, dressed to the teeth with diamonds galore, rushed to greet them. She hugged Makayla. “Good to see you, sweetie.”
Makayla pulled back from the embrace. “Jennifer, I want you to meet my sister, Donja. Donja, this is Jennifer Gardner, a long-time friend of my mother’s, who actually owned this boutique at one time.”
“Donja,” Jennifer smiled, false eye lashes framing her blue eyes. “Welcome. My, aren’t you a beauty and I love the teardrop. How unique.”
“Thank you,” Donja mouthed, still hung up on the word sister. She rolled it in her head, the word reverberating and though it felt strange, almost unrealistic, it felt good.
A sister, hmm. I didn’t see that coming.
“I want Donja dressed to kill,” Makayla winked. “She’s a vamp, she’s just not entirely convinced.”
Jennifer took Donja’s arm. “Well pretty girl, I’m Makayla’s fairy godmother and I can be yours as well. Now,” she mused softly, “where did I leave my wand?”
Makayla laughed.
Overwhelmed, Donja tried on skimpy dresses and skirts so short, they could almost pass for belts. The styles and colors just kept coming. She picked out an assortment of lacy bras with matching thongs as Makayla cheered from the sidelines. Donja tried on skinny jeans and crop tops and after an hour or two she felt completely overwhelmed but before she could protest, Jennifer dragged her to the shoe section. She must have tried a hundred different pairs of sandals, flats and every color of pumps and stilettos imaginable. Watching Makayla throughout the entire process, Donja noticed the joy in her eyes which seemed to sparkle in ways she had not previously noted.
Finished up and standing at the checkout counter with Donja in burgundy, open toe pumps, a short black skirt and a burgundy top which revealed lots of cleavage, Makayla produced a credit card and it was done. After a hug from Jennifer, and a plea to please return to view her fall collection arriving in two days, they set out for the car in silence, two security guards carrying their bags.
As they pulled out of the parking garage and sped down Huron Street toward customs, Donja shattered the still quiet between them.
“Thanks for all you did, but it was a bit much.”
Makayla smiled but remained silent.
Donja swallowed. “You spent more today than I’ve spent in my entire life on shoes, clothes, perfume, makeup, hair and nails. I don’t know what to say.”
“Just say you like it,” Makayla said with sincerity in her dazzling blue eyes.
“I do, really, especially the Joy perfume. I’ve never smelled anything like it. I’m in love,” she said, suddenly overwhelmed by it all.
“It makes me happy, that you’re happy,” Makayla whispered as their eyes ricocheted off each other. “Happy Birthday.”
Donja dropped her head.
“What’s wrong?” Makayla asked.
Donja raised her head. “You referred to me as your sister and I…I guess that had to be the greatest gift I have received today.”
Makayla stared ahead at the road. Finally, she said. “I’m just damaged enough by my seventeen years of living to know that a sister, someone I can trust, who won’t desert me or judge me, but accepts me for who I am is exactly what I need.” She stopped for a red light. “Perhaps I’m crazy,” she said, “God knows the shrinks say it’s a given, but I think you need it as well, Donja.”
Silence settled upon them, until finally Donja whispered, “Sisters, hmm, I think you’re right…about needing one,” she added, “and I like it.” She smiled. “Sisters to the end.”
Makayla snapped her eyes to Donja. “Cross your heart and hope to die?”
“Absolutely,” Donja said, a car horn behind them blasting as the light turned green. They sped away, cloaked in emotion. Minutes later Makayla braked and killed the engine beside the customs booth. Two uniformed attendants approached.
“What’s happening?” Donja asked, alarmed.
“They have to check all items coming back to the U.S.,” she answered popping the trunk. She got out and curious, Donja did as well.
Standing at the back of the car while the customs officer sorted through all her new clothing and shoes, two guys in a Camaro parked in the next aisle whistled. Makayla peeked up from the trunk and saw them ogling Donja.
