John Timm
She’s happy to have found a parking spot so close to the mall entrance. Body braced against the stinging wind, head down, she hurries to the door. In the reflection of the glass she sees her image wrapped in a vapor of breath, monochrome against the late winter snow piled high in the parking lot behind her. She tugs the heavy door open and enters the vast retail cavern known as River Trail Center.
It’s dark inside, darker than she remembers—it’s been fifteen years. Her footsteps tap out a hollow staccato as she hurries past long rows of closed storefronts, barely noticing them at first. Empty windows decorated with larger-than-life photo scenes of fashion, food, and families having fun, a colorful mask to disguise the vacant spaces that lie behind.
###
She recalls her destination was next to The Limited. She’s not sure where that is anymore. The concierge desk is empty. An overhead sign reads “INFORMATION,” and a smaller sign on the desk, “Back In Five Minutes. Sorry For Any Inconvenience.” She looks around, stops the only person in sight. “Can you tell me where I can find The Limited?”
“The Limited? I’m sorry, that’s been closed quite a while now. Believe they’re out of business everywhere.”
“That’s really not where I need go. I’m looking for the place that sells discount beauty products. A friend said it’s still here. They’re having a big store closing sale. Beauty something or other. I don’t recall the exact name. It’s been a long time. I just know it was next to The Limited. I’m sorry, I should have made myself clearer—”
“—It was over by Bergner’s. I think it’s down the Macy’s corridor now.” The person points. “Turn left at the food court.”
There’s a notice on the fountain in front of the food court, “TEMPORARILY CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE.” The bottom of the pond is dry and grimy, piled with drink cups, straws, and other rubbish, mold climbing up the sides towards the rim. The low bench that circled the fountain, the place where they would all meet as teenagers, is still there. There was always someone hanging out on that bench, like a placeholder for the rest of her group.
###
When she first knew it, it was The Trail: “Goin’ to The Trail this aft?” “Meet you tomorrow at The Trail, okay?” “Saw you with a cute guy at The Trail Saturday.” There was no requirement for belonging to the group, just the usual teen boredom, parent issues, school issues, degrees of rebellion both real and feigned, and enough change in your purse or pocket for an Orange Julius or a Wetzel’s pretzel if the mall cops ordered you to buy something or else leave.
Her mother worried about the kids she hung with. “That gang at the mall. Saw them when I was at Penney’s yesterday. They looked rough. The boys with that long hair. The girls so slutty, butts sticking out of their shorts. And the language! Do you know them? I hope you don’t go around with any of them.” She lied to her mother. She lied about Marcie. She lied about Britney. And she lied about Troy. Especially Troy. A couple of years older than the rest and on his own. First kisses. First love. First everything.
A lone security guard passes in the other direction without looking up.
###
The corridor leading to Bergner’s is closed. As is Bergner’s. Forever. She moves along. Someone from a kiosk hands her a sample of skin rejuvenating cream. “No, thank you.” Someone else steps from a doorway with a sample tray of homemade soaps. Again, “No, thanks.”
She passes the west entrance where Troy used to park his car. They’d drive off somewhere, always returning before her mother came to pick her up. She walks over to the door and looks out. Fifteen years. Almost as if it were yesterday. Too much like yesterday.
###
Mom had dropped me off early. I was sitting on the bench by the fountain, waiting for some of the other kids from school. He just came up and sat down beside me like we already knew each other. He was good looking. Very good looking. Tall. Muscular. It was warm out, and he was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt that showed off his chest and biceps. I could tell he was older, but was afraid to ask. He finally got around to telling me he’d gone to my high school, said he remembered me. I wasn’t sure I remembered him. We talked about nothing important for a few more minutes, then he asked me if I’d like to get something to eat. He held out his hand as I stood up and then didn’t let go as we walked into the food court. I didn’t object. He bought a couple of Cokes and we shared a large order of french fries. On the way back to the fountain, he put his arm around my waist. I didn’t object to that, either.
###
The next weekend, he asked me if I’d like to see his new car. I remember I didn’t answer him right away. “You don’t have to walk far. It’s parked close by.” That wasn’t why I hesitated. I was warned never leave the mall with anyone, or I’d be grounded for a month. I didn’t want to tell him that.
As we drove around town, I was hoping maybe my friends would see me, at the same time fearing that my mom might, too. Troy headed past downtown to the edge of the lake, and we pulled up in the parking lot. He made a joke about watching the submarine races. I was sitting right next to him. Despite the temperature and our body heat, I remember how I began to shiver.
###
We saw each other all that fall, and then it was Christmas Eve. The mall was closing early. I didn’t have any money for a real gift, but I had a pretty medal my dad gave me before he died. It was still in the box. I wrapped it and handed it to Troy as I got out of the car. I wouldn’t see him again until after the holidays. When I finally did see him, I had to tell him.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m not sure, but I’m late. By three weeks.”
Saying nothing, he put the car in gear and motioned for me to get out. The next day, I got to the mall later than usual. Marcie was there. “Troy said he had to go out of town and couldn’t wait any longer. He gave me this.” I took the medal in my hand, squeezing it hard until it pricked my skin. Until it hurt and my fingers began to bleed.
###
She hasn’t kept up with her friends from the mall. By the time she graduated, they’d already gone their own way. Moved on for good. Marcie with her father to St. Louis. Britney to live with her mother and sister somewhere in Indiana. Troy never came back, never knew his own son.
She finds the store she was looking for, one of a handful left on the corridor. There’s a big yellow banner in the window, “CLOSING FOREVER! EVERYTHING MUST GO!” She pauses to look around at what is now and recalls what used to be, seeing only paint smudges above darkened doorways where signs once read “Crocs,” “Victoria’s Secret,” “Payless Shoes.” It took me fifteen years to come back here. Fifteen years. Yeah, it’s time. Time for my own closure. You messed up my life, and you’ve messed with my mind way too long. Like the sign says, everything must go, and that includes you, Troy Thompson. Like this dead mall, you are finally dead to me. Now and forever.
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