It was cheap paper. Lined, and appeared as though it had been hastily pulled from a spiral bound notepad. Something dropped out of the wad and rolled across the table. She grabbed for it. What was it? A ring. A very simple plain gold band. As she inspected it, she realized it was a very inexpensive piece of jewelry, a simple wedding band. Surely, whoever had worn this had a green, left hand ring finger. She slipped it onto her the end of her thumb and read the note.
"I give up! How has my life come to this point? My marriage is over, my children have been taken. I have nothing left to live for, except for the drug. I cannot face the day without the drug. It has stolen my life by becoming my life. If there is a God, why has He forsaken me? I don't believe in Him anymore. I am desperate! Desperate and miserable. I give up!!"
It had been penned with a shaking hand. There were no misspelled words which indicated it had been written by an intelligent individual. Could this have been left by the woman who had been sitting at this table only a short time ago? There was nothing in the note to specify gender. It could have been written by a man or a woman. However, the ring inside was small. But that didn't indicate much. It could have been written by a woman who had angrily removed her wedding ring, or, by a man whose estranged wife had returned her wedding ring to him in anger. Who knew? She sighed with a heavy heart, burdened for the author of this cryptic note and, folded it and put both it and the ring into a zip pocket of her purse.
She just couldn't get back into her exercise, so, she decided a little "retail therapy" was in order. Shopping was a tonic to her soul. All of the lovely fabrics and colors served to lift her spirits. She strolled past Bakers Shoes, but stopped in her tracks and turned back to admire a lovely pair of pale, dove gray, leather pumps. Elegantly displayed upon a marble roman column, they virtually screamed out to her from the shop window. She went inside.
"Hi Tasha!" She called to the lovely African American sales clerk. "Hey girlfriend, how you doin? Let me guess......you want to try a size eight in those gray pumps? I knew you couldn't resist those when I put 'em on display this morning." Laughing Mary replied. "Oh Tasha, I need something for Easter. And those look just like what the Doctor ordered!" She sat down on the trendy little leather couch while Tasha retrieved the shoes.
Ah she predicted, the shoes were a perfect fit. She stood and walked around the store in them, wiggling her toes. She approached a small mirror set up on the floor, and pivoted her foot this way and that to assure herself that they looked absolutely marvelous on her feet. And they did! With a satisfied sigh, she sat back down on the couch and removed the shoes to replace them in the shoebox.
While a clerk, with whom Mary was unacquainted rung up her purchase, Tasha disappeared into the back room and returned carrying a beautiful, dove gray Guess bag. "Mary." She sing-songed as she held the bag aloft, jiggling it slightly for affect. "Oh, it's just gorgeous! And it was made for these shoes, but I just can't!" Mary said dejectedly. "I have a bag at home that will go okay. But I do need to find a new outfit ot go with these shoes." Mary replied with a smile. "Whatever you say." Tasha said shaking her head as though Mary had just made a very bad mistake. Mary laughed. "Thanks Tasha, you drive a hard bargain." Tasha grinned. "See you next week Mary." "Until then!" Mary called as she took her new shoes and left the store.
Headed towards Dillards with purpose, Mary anticipated what she might find to match her lovely new shoes. Perhaps a beautifully tailored suit, or a pencil skirt with a light and flowing blouse. Maybe a dress? She entered the department store and stopped to admire some lovely scarves adjacent to the perfume and jewelry counters. She fingered their silky softness and held one in particular up next to the shoes. It was a perfect match! Maybe she would make her husband happy and just settle for a new scarf and skip the outfit. She sighed undecidedly and strolled over to the perfume counter to sample some of the latest scents.
As she walked away, headed for the escalator, she glanced in the direction of the watches and saw a familiar form. It was the lady from the food court. She seemed to be hovering around the jewelry counter. She appeared to be browsing, but then again, not. She seemed anxious and a light sheen of sweat beaded her upper lip. Holding her hands in front of her, she nervously rubbed the pinky of one hand with the thumb and forefinger of the other.
Mary, making a pretense of looking at the watches, observed the woman closely. "May I show you something?" Mary practically jumped out of her skin as the saleswoman approached her with a smile. "Aaahhh, no thank you, I'm just looking." Mary answered. "Take your time." The clerk smiled at Mary as she leaned against the counter. Mary thanked the woman and browsed a while longer, trying to act natural before making her escape to the upper level and the ladies fashions, away from the disturbing "food court" lady.
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