Latest Scene

2025-08-10 Simplicity
Circle Mall. May 1979.

The Woolworth's in Circle Mall was an artifact from back when it was still a strip mall. A few years earlier, they'd added the roof and the stores that formed the outer L facing the parking lot. Its wide front opened onto the main gallery—a hundred feet of plate glass, long past its usefulness.

They found Stephen in the back corner where the bolts of fabric and clothing patterns were. He was holding a Simplicity dress pattern and staring at a sunny bolt of linen.

"Are you going to make Mom another dress?" Late asked as the boys approached.

Stephen didn't answer. He was staring through the bolt of fabric.

"Stevie?" Late reached out and took Stephen's hand like a lost child.

Stephen's head snapped back with a gasp, and he jerked his hand away reflexively. Late jumped back, too.

"Kevin, where did you come from?" Stephen's eyes focused, and his body relaxed as he registered Late. Jerk stood a couple of feet behind.

"The arcade?" Late tilted his head.

Stephen let out a small sigh. "Of course. Right."

Stephen looked at the pattern in his hands. "Sorry, I was somewhere else."

"I asked if you were going to make Mom another dress?" Late pointed at the bolt of linen. "That's a pretty fabric."

Stephen looked at the fabric. "I think so, too." He smiled and looked at the pattern in his hand, eyes sad. "It will make a pretty sundress."

Stephen fumbled for his wallet. "Why don't you boys get a model?"

He pulled a ten out and handed it to Jerk. "Buddy, get yourself a couple of comics or something too, okay?"

Jerk took the ten and stared at it, folding it before he could memorize the serial number. His mouth was bone dry.

"I need a coke," Jerk said.

Stephen was staring at the fabric again. Late glanced back at Jerk.

"C'mon, Kevin." Jerk tilted his head toward the toys and models. "I bet they've got Star Wars models."

Late was bouncing again before they got to the models. Jerk's mouth was still dry, and he went to get an orange coke from the lunch counter nearby while Late browsed.

The counter attendant was smoking a cigarette, looking bored. She recognized Jerk and shook her head as he approached. "Fizz tank is low—you'll just complain."

The stink of her cigarettes plastered itself over the smell of minestrone—the 'soup of the day' for several years running—and the smoke coated his arid mouth with tar.

Jerk made a face. "Can I have a glass of water? I'm thirsty."

By the end of the fifteen seconds it took her to pour him the glass, it was saving him from gagging.

He tilted the small glass back and drained it. "Could I have another?"

She started to say something and then stopped when she looked at his face. "Sure," she said, and refilled his glass. He sat at the counter, sipping it this time, and she went back to being bored with her cigarette at the other end of the counter.

The slap and squeak of Late's sneakers preceded him, vaulting over the stool next to Jerk to sit on it, sliding the large box of his prize onto the lunch counter. "Star Destroyer!" he said excitedly.

The box was damaged, and it was marked down: $5.49.

"It's not a good deal if it doesn't have all the parts, or if they're damaged." Jerk picked up the box. It had been crushed in one corner. He shook it and shrugged. "Sounds okay."

They bought the model, and Jerk ran back to the lunch counter, putting a quarter tip on it for the attendant. "Thank you for the water," he said. She took it and smiled weakly. "Have a better day, Buddy."

They waited in the main gallery for another twenty minutes before Stephen came out with the Simplicity pattern and a length of sunny linen. His eyes were puffy.

They headed back to Mercywood.