Nine Women, One Dress(10)

Like the seasoned saleswoman that I am—third longest tenure in the store—I had Marilyn’s birthday marked on my calendar, and last year it came and went with no call from Arthur, no visit from Felicia. At first I felt betrayed; maybe they had moved on to some younger salesgirl at the swankier Barneys or Bergdorf’s. But I didn’t think so. They all seemed so loyal. Finally I called Felicia at the office, pretending to be alerting her to an upcoming friends-and-family sale, and she told me the horrible news. Marilyn had been diagnosed with end-stage melanoma and had died only six weeks later. Arthur, she said, was devastated. I sent him a letter of condolence, and a few weeks later a box was hand-delivered to me at the store with the kindest note I have ever received from a customer. I read it so many times I know it by heart.


Dear Ruthie,

For the past twenty years of my life with Marilyn you were a part of every birthday, every Valentine’s Day, and every anniversary. You helped me put so many smiles on her beautiful face. What I wouldn’t give for just one more. Please accept this gift as a thank-you for all those smiles.

Respectfully,

Arthur Winters



I opened the box and there, folded neatly in tissue paper, was the brown and black houndstooth Oleg Cassini scarf.

*

“Arrrrrtttttiiee!”

Oh god. She was screaming for him again. I couldn’t contain myself. “What is it?” I asked rather curtly. I caught myself. “Is there something I can get for you?” A muzzle, a horse tranquilizer?

“Yes. I need this in a smaller size. Do you see how it gapes here?” she said, pointing to nothing. She had on the Max Hammer dress we were having trouble keeping in stock, in a size medium.

“You do have to be able to breathe in it, honey,” I said.

She looked at me as if I was nuts. “Just get me the smaller size, okay? And ask Artie to come in.” She was a nightmare.

I went to get “Artie.” I thought I detected a bit of embarrassment in his face when I summoned him on her behalf. I could only watch them interact for a second before I had to turn away. How someone as wonderful as Arthur Winters could end up with a gold-digging twinkie like this was beyond me.

Tomás helped me look for a size small, and while we looked I told him the whole sad story. He was particularly upset by it. Sweet Arthur losing his beautiful wife and ending up a stereotype. “What about Felicia?” he asked. “He should be with Felicia—she loves him!” I agreed, but what could I do?

Tomás, lost in his romantic idealism, suddenly snapped out of it. “Dios mio! We both know we don’t have a size small in this dress—Natalie has the only one left. We have the one medium she has on and two larges.” I knew he was right but dreaded going back to tell her.

He must have seen it in my face. “I’ll tell her. Why don’t you go out for a smoke?”

I hugged him. He was such a sweet boy.

As I put on my coat I could still hear her bitching from the dressing room. I peered around the partition and watched the scene play out.

“I need the small. Can you get one from another store? I need this dress. It’s perfect. Artie, don’t you think it’s perfect?” He nodded, but she wasn’t even looking at him.

“Can you please search for the dress and have it shipped to her if you find it?” he asked.

Tomás pitied him and knew Natalie would be bringing the small back soon. “I will find one,” he said, “even if I have to call the manufacturer. She will have it by tomorrow, latest. Will that work?”

Arthur looked relieved. “Great. Please send it to her at this address. And it’s my secretary’s birthday too. How about one of those cashmere shawls on that mannequin? It can get a little chilly in the office.”

Tomás later told me that Arthur filled out two cards. One said:


A cashmere shawl to keep you warm! Happy Day!



He carefully put it in the little envelope and wrote Felicia neatly, in script.

And on the other…


The prettiest dress in town for the prettiest girl in town. Meet me at the Four Seasons, Tuesday at eight, to celebrate the big day!



Tomás couldn’t help but ask. “What are you celebrating?”

“Oh, our four-month anniversary. My girlfriend says in the first year of a relationship you celebrate each month. I’m kind of new at this,” he whispered. “I’m a widower.”

I returned from my cigarette break right as the hussy hit the register with an armful of clothing.

“I’ll just take these…I am devastated about that dress!” Devastated? About a dress? Really? There are people wearing recycled I Rocked Becca’s Bat-mitzvah T-shirts in Africa!

Arthur smiled knowingly at Tomás, who smiled back as he rang up the staggering cost of “just these.” As they left, the hussy thanked Arthur with a ridiculously wet kiss and a whiny “Thank you, my handsome Artie.”

Within minutes of their departure Natalie arrived with the dress. Tomás’s eyes lit up.





CHAPTER 5


Eye of the Tiger


By Jeremy Madison, Movie Star





I woke up late, with a smile on my face, thinking about my night with Natalie. Since my good mood was unlikely to survive any form of social media or interactions of any kind, I decided to remain unplugged. Except for the delivery man from Three Guys, who brought me my usual Sunday morning double stack of banana–chocolate chip pancakes, I spoke to no one all day. There was a Rocky marathon on and I fell asleep somewhere after Adrian traded in her glasses for contacts. I woke up once to see Mickey die, at which I shed a perfunctory tear, and fell back asleep until the buzzer woke me. By this time Rocky and Apollo Creed were doing their ultra-eighties frolic through the waves. No one called them gay.