Page 63 of The Sky in Summer
Picking out a gift for Layla sucks. I have flipped through so many choices in my head, and none feel right. Now it is only three days away. Crunch time. What do you get the woman you are hiding your real feelings from? And how personal do I get? I am not about to give her a plantora ring. It lies somewhere in between. But where is the question. Shit.
The River Center stretches across the wide parking lot, mountains as backdrop. What a great looking day. This air. If I can’t find something at this place, I’m overthinking things. We are supposed to meet in front of Apple. Teddy and Sam are driving now and wanted to come in their own car with David and Tyler. Works for me. But I admit it stung a little.
Walking through the shoppers, I spot the boys sitting on the edge of the huge fountain taking center stage between the Apple and Microsoft stores.
“Hey guys,” I offer the shorthand greeting.
“Hi,” Tyler says.
The other three are distracted by the girls standing about fifty feet away. There are smiles and silent messages being exchanged as they look each other over.
“Uncle Van, check this out,” Teddy says, nodding to the girls.
David gets up, being pulled forward by the cute brunette with the big tits. I swear boobs have a magnetic quality. We can’t seem to resist right from life’s beginnings, and it doesn’t get any better as we age. It gets worse. Now I have Layla’s on my mind. I wish I was sucking them right now.Stop thinking about her breasts!
“I’ll be right back,” David says to the four of us.
Hell, I can’t fault the kid. Not when he is the one most like me. I would have done the same when I was sixteen, all the way to thirty-eight. Strange I can’t see myself doing it now.
“He better cut it short, or I’ll go ahead, and you guys find me.”
“He’ll be back. He’s just gonna get her number,” Tyler says.
He knows his brother. David takes out his phone, says a few words to the girl, and enters her number which she readily gave. The entire group of honeys are into what’s happening. Excited for their friend. I can tell. He turns and points to us and says one more thing before heading back this way. There is a shit-eating grin on his face as he makes eye contact. God, this kid is me twenty years ago.
“Okay let’s go,” I say.
As we walk, Sam questions David. “You got it?”
“Yeah. Let me look at her Instagram.”
So we stop. This may have been a stupid idea of mine, but I play along. For now. The boys huddle for a look at the girl’s pictures. The appropriate drooling and comments begin. By the sound of things, I imagine they are looking at pouty headshots and come fuck me looks. I Think it is a given now as porn and social media pushes them way ahead of their age. Back in the day I would have loved seeing porn whenever the idea struck, whether or not it was ruining me.
“Look, you’re mutuals.”
I have no idea what Sam means, and I don’t give a shit.
“Van, look at this,” David says, shoving the cell under my nose.
I look but refrain from any pointed comments about her rack.
“She’s cute,” I say, sounding like my mother.
I am not about to sound disrespectful oftheirmother, regardless of the fact we are supposed to be just friends. I keep walking.
“Let’s go, guys. I want to check out that place,” I say, pointing to the women’s clothing shop ahead on the left.
Entering The Loft, I realize my companions are still two stores back, looking at their phones.
Once inside, I feel like every other man shopping for a woman. Not exactly lost, but unsure. Uncomfortable. I like to shop for myself. How come it doesn’t compare? My eyes start to glaze over before I have gone through a rack of sparkly tops. Why am I looking here? I’m not about to buy her evening clothes to wear with some other guy.
The sound of the boys arriving reaches my ears.
“What are you looking for?” Teddy asks.
“I have no idea. Something pretty.”
It takes just a minute more for the salesgirl to approach. Maybe it’s the manager or owner, she is in her thirties for sure. And in her element. Classy looking, dressed well. Good shoes. For the first time I realize something about myself. I always thought it was the horn dog in me that prompted my instant reviews of women. Not always. I just did it to the proprietor and there was nothing sexual about it.
