A warm wind greeted Nicole as she shivered into the thrift store. The yellow stained wooden walls and floor blended together, making the feel of an old cabin. Nicole sneezed.
Old Gerald’s thrift store. It was the cheapest place other than the charity donation center, but it might have something nicer than what she’d be handed there. Here, Nicole might have a choice.
“Afternoon Nicole,” the owner, an older man in a tweed jacket, called to her from the back of the store. He didn’t look her way, instead shelving used books for sale. He wrote prices down on little stickers which he stuck on the sides, over the titles on the binding. Those stickers were awful to try and remove. Thankfully, Nicole wasn’t here for books.
“Hey Gerald,” she replied, “How are ya?”
“Fine, thanks. You don’t need any help, do you?” he muttered.
“No, guess not. Just looking for a coat.” Nicole said.
“Good stuff. Let me know when you’re ready. I’ll ring ya up.” He resumed his work.
“Will do.” Gerald disappeared behind a bookshelf, and Nicole relaxed. It was fine that he didn’t want to talk more today.
Dizzy. Nicole’s body could have been floating up through her skull. She could throw up, even if there was nothing in her stomach. Holding onto the frame of the door, Nicole wiped her feet off on a rug. Her legs felt like jell-o.
It had only been a couple weeks, hadn’t it? Nicole could take it. Full Meal Friday this week was also Josie’s birthday. Nicole would eat cake tonight. Cake and spaghetti. Those would help the pain. Cake and spaghetti, and her daughter’s laugh. A smile that Nicole wouldn’t let go hungry.
She wobbled past an old office chair next to the women’s winterwear rack. Faux leather, with peeling armrests. She pushed down the desire to sit, rest, and let herself cry until she had some more strength.
Now was not the time. Nicole still had to buy groceries later, and she knew she might not get back up for a while if she sat down now.
Later, she would lay down and shiver. Curl up on a soft yoga mat in her sleeping bag, and close her eyes until she felt better. But that relief was only temporary.
Nicole’s stomach growled, taunting her with the rest of her life.
Her fingernails bit into the palm of her hand, leaving marks.
She took a deep breath.
A coat. Josie needs a coat.
Put one foot in front of the other…
It was a line from a song she’d heard in her childhood, from a Rankin Bass movie about Santa Claus. It wasn’t even Christmas for over a month, but Nicole began to hum to herself, so quiet only she could hear.
“And soon you’ll be walkin’ ‘cross the floor.”
Nicole reached the rack, and steadied herself on it. It was round, and the clothes on it hung in a circle. Gerald had packed the clothes too tightly for her to see more details than colors.
Nicole began to pull them along, spacing them just enough to see the overall styles and quality.
These were the winter options people had provided. The thrift store was an excuse for people to feel better about throwing stuff out. A reason not to let “good things go to waste.” A place to put hoodies with broken zippers and holes in the elbows. Puffers leaking stuffing. Faded crap the wind would go right through.
A brown coat caught Nicole’s eye. It had no hood, but a turtleneck collar, soft knit. Thick, brown threads, waxed canvas, pillowy sleeves, but firm, rugged, warming up her fingers. Soft flannel lining inside. It was too good to be true. Every good find like this had a catch, some reason to get rid of it. Maybe a button was missing, or a hole had formed in a worn-out section. Maybe a pocket had holes or pen stains.
In the second pocket there was a paper. Something was written in pen, and Nicole read:
“If you want anything, make a wish, put the coat on, and say my name. I’ll work something out.
-Brijaema”
“Brijaema?” Nicole sounded the word out loud.
Sounds like the name of some spirit guide.
Maybe this coat had been a gift to remember someone by? She folded it up again and put it in her own pocket.
Nicole’s hands shook. The coat was heavy like a quilt. She unzipped it and put it on. Nicole wasn’t much larger than Josie, so she could try clothes on for her. The coat felt big on her, but she could tuck her wrists up into the sleeves. It would protect Josie’s hands.
The flannel in the sleeves felt a little worn. Not so much that there were holes, but just a little fraying thread that she felt.
Well, that wasn’t a very good reason to give it up. There had to be something else.
Aha. There, on the sleeve, was a small black stain. Maybe she could get it out. She rubbed it with her finger. Oh! It came right off. It was just dirt. Not a stain. Huh.
Why was this donated?
Maybe someone was telling the owner how to dress. Nicole knew she would have told her husband to get rid of ugly, good quality coats when they had been younger. When she didn’t have to worry about what they’d do without walls and a roof.
Come to think of it, this was something Richard would’ve worn when he was alive. It was his size too. Nicole wasn’t sure why it was in the women’s section of the store.
It was strange and out of place, but perfect.
Cozy, she huddled onto an office chair. The coat hadn’t been washed, and Nicole smelled a hint of aftershave, a little body odor. The former owner could have worn it a lot. It was the type of coat that would be a guy’s favorite. The kind you could remember him by, even if he was gone. Maybe that was the point of the paper.
I miss you Richard. It’s so hard.
Nicole couldn’t remember the sound of his voice anymore outside of videos, and that scared her. But she could still see his face in her mind, the shape his mouth made in a smile. But Nicole would never forget the feeling of his hands wrapping around her, the sensation of being held together when nothing could tear her apart.
Nicole imagined him in their old house’s kitchen. It would be renovated by now. She would have baked a cake in the oven today, and Josie and her friends might be sitting around a table. Imagine that. Not a card table, but a nice dining table. They’d all sing, “Happy birthday dear Josie, happy birthday to you.” And Richard would look on proudly. Listening, Nicole could almost hear him cheer as Josie blew out her candles. She felt him clap her back excitedly.
The tag of the coat poked Nicole’s back. Oh yeah... The price tag.
She removed the coat to look at it. Gerald’s white paper with a price written in pen.
$30
Oh no.
Nicole stared at it for a few seconds. She’d only wanted something simple. A coat that was nice, warm, used, maybe a few stains here or there, and with pockets for Josie’s hands and phone. It would be around $10. But this coat… For crying out loud, it was a donation! Someone gave it away for free.
But when it was new, it had probably sold for over $100. Nicole never could’ve bought it then… well, she might’ve 5 years ago.
But now? $30? Nicole could make up the difference in just a few more weeks than she’d planned. Besides, if it lasted Josie years, she’d be saving so much money. Nicole gripped it, caught. She had enough on her debit card. She hadn’t gone grocery shopping yet.
But Nicole ached, and her willpower dried up.
A few weeks?
I’m sorry Josie
Wilting, she started putting the coat back on a hanger, but stopped, and put it back on. There was no reason to get rid of it yet. The sleeves hung over her hands as she pulled more clothes down the rack.
Cheap, thin… whoops. That’s not a coat, what is this doing here? Hmm. Here’s another one.
It was a gray and puffy without a hood. The ends of the sleeves were stained brown from dirt, and there was an enormous grass stain across the bottom of the back, like some kid wore it to skid down a hill. Otherwise, sure. It would keep Josie warm, the zipper worked, and it was the right size for now. She looked at the tag with a frown.
Really? $12? Even with the stains?
After that, there was just one other good coat. $10, right on the mark. There were some minor gray stains on the pink sleeves, and pockets, but it wasn’t Josie’s size. Nicole knew it would be too small as she held it up to her arms. Josie’s wrists would stick out in the winter, and she’d freeze. Nicole put it back on the hanger, biting her lip as she tried not to cry. With this, she’d made it around the whole rack.
Please. Let there be something else. Please. I can’t.
Nothing. Today of all days, there was nothing.
Nicole could only afford two of the coats she had found, and there was something about both of them that was unacceptable. Things that would force Josie to fake a smile.
I… I should have gone another day. I could have gotten here yesterday. I could have.
But Nicole couldn’t have. She’d been busy working overtime all week, and today was errands day. The only day Nicole had any time.
She wanted to yell at Gerald, the store owner. Where even was he? What was he doing, expecting Nicole to pay $30 for the only good coat, and a full $8 for something with a grass stain all down the back?
But this wasn’t worth shooting her relationship over. She took a deep breath. Gerald was her friend. He’d talked to her sometimes when she’d come in, and he’d had good deals before. Deals for other things she’d needed. That she might need in the future.
A sob formed a lump in her throat. She held the gray, grass-stained coat and stared at it for some time, stuck.
Is this really the best I can buy for my daughter? I can’t give this to her.
But I have to.
I can’t.
I have to.
Maybe I can get her something else?
She needs a coat! I wanted a coat.
But it couldn’t be this coat. Nicole knew that. She’d been telling herself it would be something nice. Something Josie could wear to and from school. Something that would keep her warm when the air froze in the stairway, when she waited hours at the bus stop. Something that would last, even if things got worse and they lost everything.
Nicole put it back on the hanger, and a tear broke through onto her cheek. Since nobody was there to see it, it hung there, vulnerable. Waiting to fall.
Nicole unzipped the coat around her. If she wasn’t getting anything here, it was time to leave before she broke down.
Josie… I wish I could give you what I wanted.
Nicole remembered the paper.
Make a wish.
A spoken word wasn’t necessary for a wish. Nicole understood this. She was an experienced wisher, and this wish had nearly worn itself out. As she pulled one arm out of the sleeve, Nicole started to sob. The tears rolled down her cheeks. It was silly. But it was a wish she loved, in spite of itself. Even though it was impossible. It was a wish like an old coat that wrapped around her soul, warmed it, held it together.
She pulled the sleeve back on.
“Richard.” She whispered. “Brijaema.”
It was a wish that wound up staining the fabric of reality.
*****
A few minutes later, a man stood at the cash register, wearing the waxed canvas coat. It fit his broad shoulders, and he wore it open so that you could see his blue workshirt, with his name embroidered over the chest in white letters: Richard.
Richard had decided he wasn’t going to buy anything else here. He couldn’t remember why he’d come in the first place. After all, he still needed to go shopping for his daughter’s 12th birthday party.
But he had to hurry. Maybe he’d better call Josie to see if she wanted him to get ice cream to share with her friends. 4 people had said they were coming.
He sighed. If only Nicole was around to see their kid grow up.
He put the receipt in his pocket, and left the store, humming a familiar tune as he walked out to his car.
“Put one foot in front of the other…
Soon you’ll be walking out the door!”
Gerald waved after him. His mind seemed fuzzy.
Strange, he thought, I wonder where that woman went. I didn’t hear her leave, did I? Oh well. I guess I’m losing it.