Here it is, the first of many tales meant to teach us words instead of just memorizing them. Feel free to post your own pieces. All genres are welcome. This week, I chose a short piece of fiction. I hope you enjoy it. I hope you have a better idea of what gadfly means. I hope you'll be kind enough to tell me when I haven't done a good job, or I've muddled the meaning. Most of all, I hope you write.
Worn
Currently, there were only two stores in all of Pemberton that sold women’s clothing. When the town was founded in 1853, a direct result of the burgeoning logging industry along the river, the population of 325 was scattered across three miles of Pennsylvania wilderness and consisted mostly of men; but the town’s women still had their pick of four locations from which to purchase textiles and other female necessities.
As the years passed, more industries found their way to the small town along the river, and an explosion of employment and wealth helped grow the town to more than 8,000 in the early 1900s. There was a time, indeed, when you could count the number of commercial lots within the town’s borders and find that the number of clothing stores ranked third behind the number of churches and bars. By the time April and her mother took up residence in a one-bedroom apartment over the Woolworth’s in 1985, the industries responsible for Pemberton’s growth had become those responsible for its degradation; they left for better tax incentives in other states, and soon the number of bars overtook that of churches, proving that in times of financial difficulty, the working man turns first to drink and then to salvation.
Woolworth’s went out in 1992, eventually followed by The Smart Shop and Kathy’s Clothing, leaving April in her current and seemingly permanent predicament.
The Goodz was owned by a 42-year-old perpetual teen named Brittney, who thought the best way to advertise her teen-targeted inventory was to wear it. That left a 30-year-old transportation-deficient April truly only one option when she needed a dress for what she hoped would be the first date of many with a successful local accountant: Wear It Well. The inventory was not only age appropriate, but it was also a good mix of trend and tradition. Still, April paused as she saw the store’s sign swinging freely in the soft breeze.
April came through the door and winced as she heard the requisite chime signal her arrival. For a moment, she longed for the days when shopkeepers poised a bell above the door just so she could rip it off the wall and avoid what she knew was coming.
The source of her hesitation was upon her before the both feet had reached the carpet.
“Hello. How are you today?” April never answered this question, because her mother taught her to save her little white lies for people she cared about. It never really mattered anyway. “My name is Tara. Would you like to hear about our sales?” April hoped in vain that if she stepped toward a rack of tank tops, Tara would back off. No such luck. “We have capris available this week only for $24.99, and if you get two pairs, you’ll get them for $22.50. What a deal, right?” While April tried to look interested in something she had no intention of buying, the largest gadfly to ever work in retail clothing sales continued.
“These tank tops are 3 for $25. You can wear one at a time,” she glanced at April’s miniscule muffintop and broadened her lacquered smile, “or layer them for a more fun look.” Tara grabbed a purple tank from the rack and held it up to April, hoping, perhaps, that proximity improved her odds of a commission. But the intrusion of her personal space finally elicited a response from April.
“I’ve never really liked purple. I prefer red.” April noted the twitch above Tara’s left eye.
“I’m not sure that’s the best way to go.” April’s mouth opened, but it was Tara who spoke. “Have you had your colors done? You really should. You could find the right colors to wear.”
“I didn’t know there were ‘right’ colors.” If it hadn’t been such a telling gesture, April would have clamped her hand over her mouth.
“Oh, there are. Every person matches a season. I’m an autumn. You’re definitely a spring.” April wanted desperately to avoid a conversation about colors, convinced she’d mastered the subject back in kindergarten.
“That sounds—,” April glanced at her wrist, and decided that a trio of freckles made a perfectly accurate clock. “I am actually running a little late. But I’ll look into it.” Tara just stared at her for a second before turning around and heading to the back of the store.
April took advantage of the reprieve and strode toward the rack of casual dresses a short distance from the cash register. She had two date-worthy options hanging over her arm when the gadfly came buzzing back in her direction.
“Can I get you a dressing room?” she said as she clasped her hand over the hangers.
“I’m okay. Thank you.” Tara released her grip but surveyed April’s selections.
“I see you’re looking at the red sheath.” Tara quickly sifted through the rack and produced the same dress in a deep purple. “Trust me. You will love yourself in this.” Again, April’s silence seemed to signal acquiescence. “I’ll go get that dressing room for you.” April found herself handing the dresses over and watching, helpless, as Tara selected two others. Burdened as she was, Tara somehow found a spare hand and produced a small accordion-style picture album that unfolded in front of her, spilling a rainbow of swatches nearly to the floor. “And we can do your colors, too. Once you see what you’ve been doing wrong, you might want to take a second look at those tank tops.”
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