an ode to Carmen

You know those moments, those rare little slices of life that you hear or read about, random acts of kindness between strangers, that you just can't help but smile about? I guess yesterday was my day.

I was at a department store in search of the perfect boyfriend blazer. I had the style, the colour, the texture of the material pictured exactly in my mind, and I wasn't going to leave until I found it. It wasn't long before I spotted the sleeve of my would-be dream blazer sticking out between two ungodly leather jackets. Kind of like it was waving me over.

I heeded the beckoning of the inanimate object. I reached out, grasped the peeking sleeve lightly, and when I felt the silk-like texture of the material, I knew I'd found it. I reefed the two unsightly jackets it was sandwiched between away from it, and there it was. In all of it's glory. All of it's... $110.00 glory.

You know that little tune you hear when Mario dies? Yeah. Cue that music right about now.

Damn it.

There's no way I'm forking out that kind of cash for a blazer. It's not that special...
Okay, it was, but I'm not exactly swimming in excess cash here. So, with a sigh of reluctance and bitter defeat, I put the jacket back. It just wasn't meant to be for me and you, Beautiful Boyfriend Blazer. There's gotta be another one here somewhere. I walked away.

It must have been about ten or fifteen minutes later when I felt a little tap on my shoulder, followed by a pretty little french accented voice:

"You have impeccable taste, young lady."

Before I looked at her, I looked at what I had in draped over my arm: a plaid button-up and two white t-shirts. Uhh? She's not talking to me, is she? And I looked at her, and at what she had draped over her arm. THAT BITCH. She had my jacket. And by the looks of her, she could afford it. Okay, lady. Rub it in. It's fine.

"I saw you looking at this jacket a few minutes ago, and I just thought it was beautiful. I tried it on, but it's too small for me. You need to buy this."

"Oh.. uh, yeah.. I wanted to, but I really can't afford it.."

She looked at me like I was being silly or joking or something. "What do you mean? If you love it--and I know you do--just buy it. I watched you when you were looking at it. It's worth it, isn't it?"

Okay, lady. Do you work here or something? Why are you trying to get me to buy this? I don't get it.

"Don't be silly. Let me see it on you. Here."

I think in a normal situation, I would have been weirded out to the max by this. But there was just something about her, something that was warm and welcoming, motherly, even. So I put my stuff down, shimmied in the jacket, and walked over to the mirror with her. OBVIOUSLY it fit me perfectly. Like it was made for me. Which just made it even worse. I am sooo not made for this expensive clothing bullshit.

"SEE! Tell me you can't buy that now. Look at yourself!"

I wanted to cry. Why, oh, why must I be so broke. Stupid money. Stupid life.

"Listen to me. Put this other stuff you've got back. You have to buy it. You'll regret it if you don't."

The look she gave me was hard to explain. It was a combination of genuine admiration and.. pleading?

"You know what," I said, "you're right. I will regret it. And if I wait, it won't be here when I come back for it. I'm going to do it. I'll be angry with myself later, but oh well. I'm buying it."

 "Good girl!"

We shot the breeze for a little while longer while I continued to skim the racks. I wasn't really registering anything I was looking at. I was pretty much inside my own head at this point, trying to figure out how I was going to budget after this ridiculous purchase. Why am I so weak sometimes?

"Well, young lady, it was nice talking to you. I'm going to go pay for my things now. Enjoy your jacket!"

"Thanks. It was nice to meet you."

She walked away and up to the cash area. Just as she was finishing up her transaction and grabbing her bags, I got in line. She turned around before leaving, held her hand out to me and said, "I'm Carmen, by the way."
"Oh, I'm Elizabeth," I said, almost dropping everything on the floor as I tried to hold my arm out to her to shake her hand.

And then, as we shook, I felt something paper-like her hand. Oh god, please tell me she's not giving me her number or something. Look lady, you're gorgeous and nice and evrything, but I'm not exactly batting for that team.

She just smiled at me and said "It's nice to meet you, Elizabeth."

When she removed her hand from mine, I stupidly looked down at my hand, contemplating how to react appropriately without being rude. And then I saw it.

It wasn't a phone number, Elizabeth, you moron.
It was money.
Money? Yeah. Money.
A nice, crisp bill.

No.. I'm not taking money from a stranger. That's not right. I looked back up at her to try and reason with her, tell her I couldn't, in good conscience, take her money. "No, plea..." But she was already on her way out the door.

"You'll never forget me!" She said with a wave and the most wonderfully generous smile.

I just stood there: jaw on the floor; money in hand. I must have looked ridiculous.
When I finally came to, I turned to the boy at the cash register.
He had a giant smile on his face.

"Cash or debit?"