1
After a long and busy week at work, Nadeem finally had the time to go to the mall. Walking from the parking lot where he parked his white 2009 Toyota Camry to the entrance of the mall he tried recalling the last time he went shopping. Was it last Eid with Zainab?
Not much has changed, he thought passing by different stores. The mall was big and crowded. People were walking in groups that consisted of either family members, friends, or a combination of both. There were also children running freely around and in between everyone like tiny fishes and it was unclear whom they belonged to. He felt small and lonely in a river of people, but that feeling passed away as he started looking at different stores trying to decide which one to shop at and felt vaguely excited.
He walked into a Boss clothing store. The store had a clean modern look with very few racks of cloths placed in the middle of it. House music was playing from hidden speakers attempting to block the outside noise.
Nadeem browsed the shirts on one of the racks, checked their price tags, and their sizes. He looked around for a shopkeeper but found no one but an uninterested cashier busy with his phone. He picked two buttoned shirts size large and two pants size 37. All were of different colors.
“Uh, excuse me” Nadeem mumbled trying not disturb the tranquil air of the store. “Where can is the fitting room?”
The cashier pointed at a large sign in one of the corners that said Fitting Rooms.
“Thanks.” Nadeem said feeling a bit ridiculous.
The fitting room was cold and had bright white lighting and a tall mirror. Taking his shirt off, he felt like he was about to undergo a surgery. He looked at himself in the mirror with pants still on. He examined his. His eyes looked tired slightly sleepy. He looked at the wrinkles at the side of his mouth and eyes. He examined his torso. He tried to determine whether he gained or lost weight but he couldn’t tell. I’m getting old, he thought. He wanted to escape old age, but knew he couldn’t and that made him felt trapped and weak.
He then remembered what he was in the fitting room for. He took off his gray pants and wore the new black pants he picked. He paired them with one of the shirts he picked with thick blue and white stripes. The shirt’s cotton fabric felt good on his body. He buttoned up and tucked the shirt in. He looked again in the mirror, but this time with a shy smile. He gave his back to the mirror and turned his head to see how he looked from behind.
He went to the cashier holding the clothes he tried with another shirt and pants that were the same size but different color. He placed the cloths on the counter. The cashier, not unlike a machine that was off and then turned on, quietly started moving and took each
article of clothing one by one and scanned it and folded it. Then he wrapped them all with thin paper and put them in a bag and announced the price.
“3500 riyals?”
“Yes. 3500 riyals, sir.”
He took out his wallet and gave the cashier his Master Card while recalling an advice from a book he read once, “Dress for the job you want, not for the one you have,” and felt less guilty for spending that much money he did not have. This will surely impress them, he thought thinking of his colleagues and supervisors.
Exiting the store, his phone vibrated in his pocket. It was an automated text message from his bank triggered by the transaction saying that he had made a purchase of 3,500 riyals. The amount seemed larger in the text and he felt the joy of the purchase quickly dissipate and vague sense of regret sink in. He thought of his wife’s reaction to what he had just bought and tried to think of a way to hide what he had bought or a good explanation. I hope she doesn’t find out, he thought. But she always does. How does she finds out?
On his way to exit the mall, he passed by an Apple Store. He felt a temptation to make one last stop, so he walked in. The store had wooden floor and two long wooden tables. Each table had two lines of devices that were iPhones, MacBooks, and iPads on them. The place was packed and Nadeem kept brushing against other people as he walked.
He walked around looking, over other people’s shoulders, at different devices. He noticed that one of the iPads was not being held by anyone so he place his shopping bag on the floor between his legs and picked the device up from its mount. Let’s see what all the fuss is about, he thought as he started to navigate through the iPad’s menu. He enjoyed flipping through the menu using the touch screen in a motion not unlike the flipping through pages of a book. He then decided to take a picture of himself to test the camera. He stared at his frozen reflection for some time then sighed. He flipped through pictures of other people that were stored on the device. A child making a funny face. The same child with other children making funny faces. A woman and a child smiling as if they were saying cheese. A man and woman making duck like expressions. He returned the device and looked at the price indifferently then decided to leave.
2
Before going through the door he realized that he had forgotten his shopping bag. He panicked a little and quickly returned to where he stood to look for it. The bag was not there. One of the sales people must have kept it for me, he thought trying to calm himself.
“Excuse me, sir! Sir! Excuse me! Please, have you found a bag laying here?” he said, with clenched fists, to an assistant that was talking to one of the customers.
“You mean, like, a backpack?” the assistant said looking slightly confused and annoyed. “No, no. A shopping bag. It has Boss logo on it, you know. It has my cloths in it.”
“Hm, no, but let me check. Sorry, mam, I will get back to you once I’m done.”
Nadeem felt anxious. He thought of the disappointed look on his wife’s face if she found out, and of the money he wasted and kept saying “I’m sure they have it” to himself. He kept looking left right hoping to somehow find it, as if someone decided to play a trick on him and hide the bag somewhere just to give him a scare.
It’s been a minute since the assistant went to check for the bag but Nadeem felt it was much longer and kept checking the time on his watch and on his phone. He felt that people were being loud and wanted to yell “shut the fuck up” to everyone so he can concentrate, but didn’t.
He saw the assistant approaching from the back of the store shaking his head with a sympathetic look and pronouncing sorry with his lips. Empty handed he exited the store.
Nadeem walked to his car as slowly as he could. The realisation of what he had last had already sunk in. He found his car in the parking lot surrounded by empty parking spaces. Got in, and slammed the door as hard as he could, punishing it for what had. It was quiet inside the car. He could hear nothing but his own thoughts, which were visions of him confronting his wife that had has heartbeat racing. After taking a deep breath, he turned the engine on and drove home.
3
His watch read seven-forty-five when he was taking the elevator to the third floor of an ageing apartment complex where he lived in a two-bedroom with Zainab.
In front of the door of his apartment he was stopped trying to locate his keys, but the door opened before he found them.
“I heard you coming,” Zainab said with a smile. “Are you hungry? I was thinking maybe burgers for tonight.”
“Uh, yeah, that would be good,” he said trying to avoid her eyes and hurried to the bedroom to change his cloths.
It did not take Zainab long to notice his discomfort and anxiety. She has been living with him for fifteen years and she knew him like the back of her hand. She gave him few minutes to change then she went after him.
She found him sitting on the edge of the bed in his pyjamas.
“So, how was work today?”
“It was good.”
“Oh, really? You don’t look too happy about about.” Then she sat next to him holding his hand and resting her head on his shoulder. “What happened, Nadeem?”
He looked at her for a moment with glassy eyes before answering. He told her the whole thing and she kept quiet listening to him. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that or how I was so stupid.”
“I see,” she said. “Well, there is nothing we can do about that now. C’mon, dinner is ready on the table.”
—
