Aban's Accension

Chapter 26: The Question

Chapter 26: THE QUESTION

by Shireen Jeejeebhoy

Aban struggles with the front door and her shopping bags. She had not only bought new blouses and shirts, new pants and jeans, but also shoes, shampoo for curly hair, scented soaps, candles, and an iPhone, although she isn’t sure what she’s going to do with the latter. But the Apple store had looked so full of happy people, she’d wanted a piece of that.

Finally in, she butt-closes the door and hauls her booty up the stairs, bumping and banging the bags against the wall and stair rail. At the top, she pauses for breath, starts up again but pauses at the guest room door. She’s had enough of carrying all these bags. It’s been a long trip home with them on the TTC, packed with other shoppers and sleeping workers, kids with skateboards, and couples with ginormous strollers, and men slouching all over the seats with their legs wide open and their status gym bags taking up the seats next to them.

Aban dumps the bags inside the guest room door, rubs her hands down the front of her pants, and goes into the kitchen for a large glass of water, not waiting for the water to run cold first. She gulps down the water, some of it dripping out the sides of the glass down her face, down her chin, onto her T-shirt. With a satisfied sigh, Aban puts the glass down on the counter and smiles at how excited the store clerks were when they realised she wanted to buy and buy lots. They had her trying on pants after blouse after skirt. That was weird, putting on a skirt. She didn’t think she looked good in them; she’d never noticed her legs before. They were so white. And skinny. But the clerks had exclaimed over how good she looked and all she needed to do was to get a wax job. She wasn’t sure what a wax job was, but she didn’t let on to them. And then they showed her how she could pay with her ATM card. She'd felt so liberated when she'd done that.

She walks back down the hall to the guest room and pokes her head in. The bags are still there. Mom would be so mad. El would not approve. Aban grins as she returns to the kitchen, this time letting the water run cold before refilling her glass.

She drinks her second glass of water slowly. She puts the empty glass into the sink, wipes her chin and T-shirt, and wanders out the kitchen door, down the hall, and into the living room to her favourite window. Watching the cars go in two directions, she revels in how good she feels. All that shopping, all that spending with her card. She had no idea it could do multiple things. It was not at all like spending money. She’d always paid with cash Mom gave her when she shopped for groceries or a T-shirt when Mom let her. But today had been all about her.

Aban wonders how much she spent.

Worry infiltrates the corners of her mind. Did she spend too much? It was so easy. That card made it so easy.

But it sure felt good. She beams. It was the closest she’d come to feeling happy in –. She frowns. She doesn’t remember feeling happy. Ever. Well, yeah, helping El after the storm made her feel good – for awhile – but not as good as today. Today, she feels...high! Helping El felt good deep down, but shopping makes her feel giddy. Even after she’d stopped from exhaustion, even as she walked through the tunnel from the Eaton Centre to the subway station, she had wanted more. She had wanted to turn around and buy more, nothing specific, just more.

Abruptly, fatigue slumps her shoulders. She notices that her feet ache and her back hurts. She looks for a couch to crash on, like at home, but all she has is a chair. She glowers at it sitting there by itself in this vast space. By itself. Laughter breaks from her. Aban quickly stifles it with her hand as tears prick her eyes. She blinks rapidly. Control used to come so easily to her. But ever since she’d met El, she’s been feeling emotions, thinking thoughts, doing things she’s never done before, that she remembers anyway.