“My matter?”
Megan placed the jeans in the basket. “You know. The particles that make you… you. Where were they for sixty years?”
Thelma couldn’t answer that.
Her tastes were likewise abandoned as they pushed the large cart through narrow aisles and nearly knocked over two shoddily constructed displays. Every time Megan showed her something, Thelma shook her head, either because the clothing was too form-fitting or a garish color. That was before she vetoed other pieces for their poor quality and scratchy fabrics. It took half an hour just to collect a couple mid-length skirts, a few blouses, and two dresses that didn’t show off everything Thelma preferred to keep beneath her clothes.
“You really like expensive stuff, Thel.” Megan looked at the price tags on what they had assembled while on their way to the lingerie department.
“The price of higher quality in modern America.”
“You’ll look great, though.” Megan steered the cart to a whole aisle of bras.Just hanging there! My goodness!Thelma swallowed the lump in her throat as they approached. “Now. What kind of bra do you wear?”
Thelma almost died right there.
She insisted that she try the clothes on by herself, because the thought of even her granddaughter looking at her half-naked while helping her wear abrawas too much to bear. Yet what Thelma assumed would be a good opportunity to decompress and think aboutnothingfor a few minutes soon turned into a fresh nightmare when she realized the changing room was as loud andsmellyas the rest of the store.
“Nope, not that one.” Megan quickly closed the door to a room again. “Maybe down here, huh?”
When she was finally alone, Thelma took off her sweater and screamed into its threads.
But she would find her composure again. She was a lady, after all.
She had picked several pieces that weren’t offensive to her skin—or her sensibilities. Everything served a perfunctory function while still being somewhat stylish.If I’m buying it here, then that means it’s modern enough to help me blend in, right?No, nobody would see the bra and panties she had been wearing the night she traveled into the future, and garters were a thing of the past… but Thelma remained worried that she wouldn’t be allowed to look likeherselfwhile still adhering to the rules around her. She refused to dress like Megan.How she dresses in the modern world is between her and her mother… and God, I suppose.
Speaking of Him, Thelma said a small prayer before trying on the pullover bra that had no right to be as comfortable as it was.
A collared shirt came next. After she fluffed her curls over the collar, she tugged on a burnt orange skirt that swished over her knees and landed with a sadflopagainst her shins. When she put her heels back on, however, she wasn’t angry at what she saw in the mirror. At the last second, she popped open her purse and pulled out her white and red handkerchief, which she tied around her throat.
“Oh… not bad, Thelma.” She turned in front of the mirror. “And you dressed yourself! All by yourself! What a big girl.” She giggled to think of how she used to talk to her daughter.
Then she cleared her throat, wiping one tear from her eye as she was forced to think about her daughter. The same one she still had yet to visit because she lived over an hour away.
There were some mirrors out in the main changing area. Thelma unlatched her small room and stepped out, feeling how the skirt fell around her steps and how comfortable the collared shirt was tucked into the waistline. She took a minute to twirl in front of the mirrors, her heels sticking into the carpet as her curls bounced and her ruby-red lips smiled at her reflection in all three mirrors. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. Maybe she could even enjoy this a little bit…
“Uh, wow. That’s… wow.”
Thelma nearly fell over as she pirouetted and tripped right out of her heel. Yet she caught her balance just in time, albeit not without slightly rolling her ankle and forcing her hair right in her face.
When she moved a large blond curl out of the way, she saw Gretchen standing in a changing room doorway, two jackets slung over her arm.
“Hi,” Thelma whispered, her heart in her throat again. “Gretchen, right? Gretchen Stewart.”
The woman slowly approached, her makeup-less face something to behold as herveryshort pants and tank top said things about her physique that Thelma was ready to chastise about her own granddaughter.Oh, I think I get it now.On a woman like Gretchen, who had lean arms and a prominent chest beneath her pale orange top, this outfit was particularly fetching.
“That’s me,” Gretchen said as she stood near the mirrors. “Your new neighbor. Thelma?”
“That’s right.” Thelma pushed her hair back behind her shoulders and fixed up her handkerchief. “What do you think? Meg took me out shopping today. It’s been so long since I bought clothes.” She didn’t mention that byso longthey technically meant sixty years. Even if in Thelma’s mind it was more like three months since she bought a new housedress that a shopgirl helped her pick out in Bullock’s.
Was Gretchen’s gaze lingering on Thelma’s ankles?She must be queer. I would recognize someone like Sandy anywhere.Except Sandy wasn’t anywhere near Gretchen’s way of dressing herself.Sandy would never let thighs and feet hang out like that.Very, very nice thighs. Quite strong looking. As if Gretchen ran track and knew her way around a shot put.Oh, Thel, you always had a thing for athletic girls…Sandy knew how to pitch a softball and had been a ravenous fan of the All-American Girls during college.She took me to a few games in the Midwest…
“That’s a look.”
Thelma wasn’t sure what to make of that. “It’s silly, isn’t it? I don’t look like any of the other women out there.”
“Uh, that’s a nice thing, sometimes.”
Thelma continued to awkwardly stand before the mirrors, taking in how the pullover bra smoothed her breasts beneath the modern blouse.Does she notice?No, of course, Gretchen didn’t. She wasn’t aware that Thelma was used to bras that were a bit… pointy.
