Once Inside
May 22, 2005
It was already late afternoon when little Eliza and her mother joined the long line. They were like ants, all waiting for that small opening almost a block away. The new toy shop was about to open and people were really excited about this. More than half of the people were kids; the other half were their older companions probably drawn by the glitz and glamour of this new spot in this not-so-lively town.
“See, Eliza? It’s always a good thing to be early,” Eliza’s mother muttered under her breath; she just saw her dear neighbor almost ten feet away and was waving frantically at her. Then she couldn’t help herself. “What’re you buying?”
The neighbor couldn’t make out what Eliza’s mother just said. Late afternoon was the time for those restless drivers to get their itching hands and feet on those smoke-belching, tire-screeching machines, and this afternoon wasn’t at all different. “No need for a parade” was this town’s late afternoon motto.
Eliza’s mother repeated her curiosity. The neighbor repeated her deafness. Both were faking it. They really don’t like each other.
“Mommy, I wanna buy a small doll.” Eliza’s voice didn’t seem fit for her eyes—they bore the annoyance many of the children standing in line were trying to hide, just to impress their parents (or any of those older guardians a kid could have) so that once inside the toy shop, they could have as many toys as they want. This is where innocent hopes and conniving acts meet. Toy shops do that to kids around the world.
Eliza’s mother gave up on her pursuit. All she did (so that her dear neighbor could understand) was to wave her hand and signal to her that they would talk about this later, maybe after this hullabaloo of a wait line, or, as usual, never. She then turned her attention to Eliza.
“Of course, honey.” An empty answer like that still brought a sense of excitement for little Eliza.
“Or maybe a tea set,” said Eliza.
“Of course, honey.” Another empty answer from her mother.
“Or maybe an inflatable pony. You know, for swimming.”
“Sure.”
“Or how about those little talking robot dogs I saw on TV?”
“Maybe.”
“Eliza stared at her mother. Maybe?
Her mother was looking somewhere, somewhere far beyond the ten people (or pairs of people) in front of them. She was holding her shoulder bag in a very strange manner. Eliza reached for her mother’s right arm and tugged her sleeve.
“Mommy, why maybe?”
Even a hallow response didn’t come out from her. All her mother did was stare at something directly in front of them. Of course Eliza couldn’t see it; she tried hopping around and straining her neck and standing on tiptoes, but all she saw were countless heads and a few whining children.
Eliza tugged her mother’s sleeve harder. “Mommy—”
“What?” Her mother’s distraction came to an end. “What now darling?”
“Why maybe?”
“What maybe?”
Eliza was again looking at the face of her mother trying hard to return from somewhere not seen. She was lost for a moment, and Eliza knew. She had seen this before.
“I said, why did you say maybe?”
“When?”
“When I asked you about the talking robot dog!” Eliza was becoming one of those children, at last becoming one of those children.
“Oh, sure honey.”
“Eliza wasn’t at all satisfied with this answer. She was so sure that her mother would at least give her a moment or two, but from the looks of it, she was too distracted by something. Could it be that she was eyeing something better than the toys she talked about a while ago? This wishful thinking made her forgive her mother.
The doors, after almost an hour of waiting, opened without any fanfare. Eliza was expecting a couple of clowns to just bust out from the store, but alas, there weren’t any. The line moved slowly at first, and then the pace started to pick up. Everywhere she looked, she could see other children looking up, their mouths wide open. Their parents would probably open their mouths too if they weren’t adults. She looked at her mother, hoping to ask her again about the toy she wanted to buy. But her mother was busy looking past the uniformed men, past the glass doors with Toy Town stickers, past the first batch of people and their children who were busy pushing their carts or asking the nervous personnel. Something was again distracting her. Eliza couldn’t hide her irritation any longer.
“Mom, let’s move!” She pulled her again, towards the rows of orange carts that were hastily filed at the left side of the shop.
“Her mother submitted to the small voice of her mother, pulling a cart away and pushing it towards the first section where robots and guns were on display. Eliza held the left side of the empty cart, hoping that her dream doll was just a section away. They passed by the next two sections, and then turned left. Just then, the cart came into a sudden stop. Then her mother knelt in front of her. Her eyes were gleaming, and Eliza didn’t know what to make of this.
“Eliza, let’s go home.”
Surprised, Eliza said nothing.
“There’s too many people around.”
Eliza couldn’t understand this. Toy shops were supposed to be full of people. She tried to argue this with her mother, but an unfamiliar voice called her mother’s name.
“Sally?” The voice sounded unsure, like someone in a guessing game.
Her mother didn’t look up at first, but the second call forced her to stand up. Eliza saw her mother’s grip on the handle of the cart tighten. When her mother spoke, it was as if she was speaking for the first time, shaking and very much unsure like the man in front of her.
“Hello, Gilbert.”
The man stared at her mother, and then to Eliza. Again his voice was unsure, even scared. “Is she—?”
“Yes, this is Eliza.” Then slowly, as if she had all the time in the world, as if nothing happened, she pushed the cart, past the man. Eliza stared at the man for a moment, and then followed her mother. They picked up a Barbie doll and went straight to the counter. They did not waste another minute and walked out of the shop and into the busy street.
