Going to the Mall

When I was little, we lived out in nowheresville. It was like twenty minutes to the nearest town big enough to have a shopping center, and in between basically just cornfields and a gravel pit. Heck, even the mall used to just be more cornfields. It sat by itself out in the middle of nothing. They called that turnoff “The Bridge to Nowhere” because everyone thought it was hilarious that they were trying to turn that place into a commercial center. It had been twenty years and nothing but that one mall had showed up.

Of course, it’s all built up now, giant chains and big-box stores all through everything. Ugly sprawl wins again. I guess the money guys are the ones laughing now.

Anyway, back then Going to the Mall was kind of a big deal, an all-day thing, at least from the perspective of a five-year-old. (Remember when “an hour” seemed like basically forever? Yeah, that’d be nice, huh?) We got up early, headed out, did serious shopping for a few hours, got a lunch out, and went home again. This was about the only time we got to eat in restaurants, too, ‘cause my mom didn’t make that much and my dad’s “child support” payments didn’t even completely cover the cost of the babysitter mom had to have so she could keep her job. So this was an Event for us kids. The mall was this almost mythical place, full of secrets and wonder. An entire STORE full of toys. A restaurant that served nothing but COOKIES. Screw heaven, let’s go to the mall.

The only kind of bad part was the clothes shopping. Mom had to get decent stuff to wear to work because this was before almost every office was “office casual” and everyone wore jeans all the time. She saved up to get a few nice things and she wanted to make her money count, so she did a LOT of looking and comparing, trying to get the very best she could. Five-year-old boys can only take so many skirts and blouses before they get bored, so I used to go wandering off to try and entertain myself while she was in the fitting room for like the umpteenth time.

We did hide-and-seek sometimes. The department store had old, cheap clothing racks, basically just two rings of metal with some columns to hold them apart, and you could slip completely inside and it was like a little private fort. That was kind of an obvious hiding place, though, so I tried to get more creative. Up against the wall they had displays of skirts hanging down, and if you pushed in carefully, there was just enough space for a little kid to stand quiet and still and hold their breath, and if the skirts were long enough, the only clue you were there would be if someone ducked down and saw the tips of your sneakers poking through.

It smelled kind of nice behind there. A little sweet and dusty. Specks of sawdust and the scent of polished aluminum from the hangers and racks. Just a hint of mildew giving the smell a solid floor. I’d been hiding for a while and started wondering if maybe the game was over and I won or if that was just what they wanted me to think. Maybe I’d jump out and just get tagged immediately. Base was the door of Mom’s fitting room and I was pretty far away, farther than I thought I could run and keep ahead of my sister. She was fast. Faster than me, anyway. Then I wondered if they’d just forgotten about me, if they’d just walked off and left me. Gone to eat at the cookie stand and laugh about how they’d finally gotten rid of me for good. It wouldn’t be hard. The mall was big and twisty, two floors in places. All those mirrors. All those little nooks and crevices with fountains and ashtrays for the smokers. A kid might never find their way out. And then even if they did, what then? There was nothing but corn for fifteen miles in any direction.

I must have whimpered a little bit or something at the thought of being alone in all that space, because I suddenly felt someone move beside me. I couldn’t see anything in the gloom behind the clothes, but when I looked down, I saw some shoes. Funky shoes, all polished black and with a buckle on, like they’d come from church.

“Are you hiding, too?” I whispered, afraid to give away my presence and honestly kind of hacked off that someone else had thought of my good hiding spot.

“Shh,” they said. I couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl.

“Did you just find this spot? It’s really good. This is the longest I’ve ever gone without getting found.”

“No,” said the voice. “I’ve been here a while.”

“Do you have a brother or sister?” I asked. “You all could join our game. My sister’s probably going to find me soon.”

“She’s coming,” the voice said. “I’m in trouble. I have to hide.”

“What?” I asked. No answer. “Hey, kid.” Nothing.

Then I heard my mom calling my name, and my sister too, so I guessed the game was over. I pushed back out and I was blinking because the crappy dim lights in the store suddenly seemed way too bright. I looked back to see where the other kid had been, but there was nothing. No bulge, no swaying clothes. No sign of them at all.

Not even a pair of weird, old-fashioned shoes.