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“Okay, Mom. Jesus.” Lamar holds his hands up before helping his big brother off the floor.
I want so badly to rush over to them, to help Lamar get him cleaned up, but … I just … I just can’t.
As soon as they’re out the door, I lift the white cube in the center of the store that was once a pedestal for a prom-ready mannequin and pull my backpack out from underneath. I sink to the floor and dig through the contents, feeling my chest tighten more and more with every passing second. A clap of thunder shakes the walls, pushing me to move faster.
I find the travel-sized toiletries that I packed from home and have to squeeze my eyes shut and count backward from twenty to keep from picturing the beachfront motel where those little bottles came from.
… three … two … deep breath … one.
Squeezing the shampoo and conditioner bottles in my fists, I focus solely on my surroundings and begin to walk backward out of the tuxedo shop entrance. Another clap of thunder makes me jump as I turn and continue to move in reverse toward the doors at the end of the hallway.
I can do this.
Step.
I don’t have to look at anything.
Step.
Not that there’s anything out there.
Step.
Nope.
Step.
Nothing at all.
I feel the rain spitting on the side of my face through the broken windows just before my back hits the smooth metal handle of one of the main entrance doors.
Every beat of my heart feels like a lightning strike, reverberating through my body and making me tremble. The entire hallway stretched out before me is empty, and although it’s still early afternoon, the storm has darkened the mall to the point that I can’t even see the fountain from here.
Good.
The darkness helps calm my nerves. It helps me lose myself and pretend.
I’m just gonna step out this door into another … wetter … part of the mall. That’s all. I’m not going outside. There is no outside. This is the … the … mall shower room. Yeah.
I set the bottles on the ground and pull off my clothes as quickly as possible, throwing them in front of me far enough that they won’t land in one of the puddles forming by the door. Then, I press my naked back to the door again, cherishing the feeling of cool metal against my heated skin.
I’m in the mall. And when I push through this door, I’ll still be in the mall. No big deal.
I memorize which bottle is in which hand—shampoo right, conditioner left—and then, with a deep breath and my eyes screwed shut, I push against the door with my body. A gust of wind blows my hair into my face, but the feeling of rain pouring down on me doesn’t come. Only a slightly stronger mist, still spitting at me sideways.
The awning! Dammit!
My heart lurches into high gear as I realize that I have farther to go. Instead of walking straight back into the open parking lot to get out from under the cover, I decide that I need to stay close to the building. I need something to keep me grounded. With my knuckles against the brick and the plastic bottles in my fists, I move sideways in the direction of the mist. The droplets grow larger with every blind step I take, and when they finally begin to soak my hair and chill my skin, I stop. I can’t remember which bottle is the shampoo and which is the conditioner, and I’m too terrified to open my eyes and check. So, I choose one blindly, squeeze the contents into my hand, and begin to scrub my entire body furiously.
I hear a sizzle in the air before the next clap of thunder. It’s so close that it shakes the ground under my feet and elicits excited screams and nervous laughter from the people on the roof.
People on the roof.
“No!” I yell, possibly out loud, as I push the fear down and try to tell myself that I’m not outside.
The world I left and all its hurts don’t exist anymore. There is no trigger out here that could possibly hurt me. But I am, and it does, and when I take one more step out from under the cover of the awning—when I feel my feet sink into something earthy and soft and as familiar as barefoot Easter egg hunts and summer games of tag—I find it.
Thunder claps, and pain seizes me like a lightning bolt striking from the ground up. The grass under my feet hurts worse than anything I thought I might encounter out here, but I’ve missed it so much that I can’t bring myself to move.
