Page 85 of The ABCs of You & Me

“Yes,” she confirms.

“So when you said they weren’t body parts…” I trail off and peek over at her. Her face is three shades redder than usual, and I find myself unable to look away.

She finally meets my gaze and shrugs. “They are representations of a body part I guess, but they’re not a body part.”

“Do you think they know they’re in there?”

“How could they not?”

“There are so many,” I say, looking down at the closed trunk.

“So many,” Sophie agrees as a laugh bubbles out of her, and within a few seconds we’re holding each other up as we make our way back to the car.

“I think I need a minute,” I gasp, leaning my head back against the headrest.

“No one is going to believe us,” Sophie says as she wipes her eyes. “I wouldn’t believe us.”

“I wonder what treasures the next stop will have,” I say, pulling away from the first sale. “Perhaps a bag of vibrators?”

“Oh, some of those probably vibrated.” Sophie erupts in a fit of giggles, and they wash over me like sea-foam, tiny bubbles popping gently as they touch my skin.

The second sale does not reveal any interesting, disturbing, or even useful findings, so we move onto the next.

“Wyatt Earp! Look at this.” I can barely contain my excitement as I lift the dark blue Le Creuset dutch oven off the table.

“My mom has one of those,” Sophie says, brushing her finger over the enameled cast iron pot. “How much is it?”

I lift it above my head and find the sticker. “Five dollars,” I whisper in awe.

“Why are you whispering?” Sophie whispers back.

I look around to make sure no one is listening. “Because I’m afraid I’ll sound too excited and they’ll say it’s a mistake.”

“How much are these things normally?”

I look at her in shock. I know she’s not much of a cook, but she was raised by a tremendous one. “Seriously?” I ask.

“Seriously.”

“One this size is about six hundred dollars.”

Her jaw drops. “No way.”

“Way! Quick, look to see if there are any other ones.”

“Here.” She reaches for an orange pot about half the size of the one I’m holding and never parting with. “Oh, but this one doesn’t have a lid. Is that a deal-breaker?”

“Not even a little bit.” I have the urge to throw cash at the teenager sitting scrolling through his phone and running to the car.

Sophie seems to notice my nervous excitement. “Is this a ‘start the car’ moment?”

“A what?”

“You know that old commercial where the woman gets such good deals she wants her husband to start the car before someone comes out and tells her it’s not real?”

“Ikea?” I recall, and she nods. “Yes, this is definitely one of those moments.”

I drop a ten on the table in front of the teen who barely acknowledges us and then Sophie and I speed walk back to the car with my new favorite kitchen accessories.

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