Slack: A Day in the Life of Ford Aston
Page 9
“It is, very pretty,” I answer back as I watch her. She’s smiling down at the jewelry. “Are those emeralds?” I point to the little green gems.
“Yes,” she whispers. And then she looks up at me. “They’re small, but they’re real. I bought this for my mom for Mother’s Day once. It was symbolic, you know. I was missing her and wanted to give her a present. So I worked really hard to sell a lot of stuff that month and I got this bracelet from a lady who used to run a booth on the other side of the mall.”
God, how sad.
“But I’ve been thinking about it lately and I’d like for it to go to a mother, even if it can’t go to my mother. Do you think your mother would like this?” She lifts it up towards my face and then smiles one of those sweet, innocent little girl smiles at me.
Holy shit that almost cracks my black Grinch heart. “Absolutely,” I say. “My mom would die to have this bracelet. How much?”
“I have it marked at seventy-five, but since—”
“Done.” I grab some more cash from my wallet and lay it out on the counter. “Seventy-five is a steal.”
“Want me to gift wrap it?” She looks up at me smiling. “I’ll put it in a pretty jewelry bag. With ribbons and everything. And make a card too. I’ll be fast.” And before I can even answer yes, she’s got the ribbon and scissors out. “You should look for something for your friend who is a girl.” And then she stops mid-cut and looks up at me. “If she’s just a friend, you don’t give fancy things. Something small that seems insignificant, but really isn’t. OK?”
Relationship advice from a twelve-year-old. My life couldn’t be any more pathetic. But I do browse for something to give Rook. I walk inside the girl’s booth a little farther and start to take things in. “What’s your name?” I ask her, as she busily ties ribbons to the jewelry bag.
“Sasha Alena Cherlin.”
“Not Nikita then?” She laughs, like she got the joke, and that makes me like her even more. “I don’t have a middle name, so Ford will have to do. Ford Aston. Sign my name on the card, OK? I have terrible handwriting. And sign yours too, so my mom knows it came from you as well.”
“Awww… that’s so sweet, Ford. I’m gonna put little pink hearts on the tag too.”
“Do it up right, Nikita.”
“Sasha!” she squeals.
“Right—” I stop mid-sentence because I see the perfect gift for Rook. “I want that for the girl who is a friend.”
She puts her stuff down and walks over to me. “Eric Cartman? For a girl? I’m not sure…”
“No, I’m sure. It’s perfect.” The little Eric Cartman figure has mirrored shades, a cop uniform, and he’s holding a nightstick. I laugh out loud as I picture Rook saying, ‘Respect ma authora-tay’ when she sees it. Can’t cost more than five bucks, but this is the perfect gift for Rook. Something small that seems insignificant, but really isn’t.
“Gift wrap?” Sasha asks.
“Yeah, but better leave your name off this one, OK?”
“For sure, Ford,” she winks at me. “I’m a woman, I totally get it.”
Just as Sasha is finishing up the gift wrap, Merc peeks his head out from behind the curtain that leads to the back. “Ford!” he yells over to me. “You can take off man, this job just got complicated.”
I give him a little salute, but he’s already disappeared.
“You really aren't a hunter, then?”
I look down at Sasha and smile at her. “I told you I wasn’t.”
“So now you have time for me to gift-wrap your knife.” She grabs the box and takes it over to the little table that’s doubling as a makeshift wrapping station.
“It’s for me, Sasha. It doesn’t need to be gift-wrapped.”
“It’s like a present to yourself, Ford. Just go with it.”
Just go with it. I laugh. “You’re kinda funny. Why are you working on Christmas Eve? Because my friend had a deal with your dad?”
“No,” she says softly as she continues to wrap my knife case very carefully. “We always work until noon on Christmas Eve, just in case people wander in and need help. Like you.” She looks over her shoulder and smiles before going back to her cutting and twisting. “Then we drive to my grandparents ranch near Sheridan.”
“That’s a long drive.”
“Yeah, I love the drive. I just look out the window and think about my grandparents and how fantastic it will be to see them. We’ll have early calves this year for my 4H project and I get to stay up there and help.” She stays silent for a few seconds. “I love the babies. Why are you working on Christmas Eve?” she asks, as she turns with my packages.
“I don’t do Christmas Eve. I usually just try to avoid the whole holiday.”
“Well,” she huffs, “you failed. You have a present to unwrap and two people you love will get a gift from you this year.” She flashes me her braces and I smile back as she pushes my packages across the glass.
I stuff them in my coat pockets and shoot my finger at her, Spencer style. “Merry Christmas, Sasha Alena Cherlin. Hope you do well at State next year so you can tag that deer. And may your calf be the biggest one at weaning.”
She covers her mouth to laugh and I turn around and walk away grinning.
“Yes,” she whispers. And then she looks up at me. “They’re small, but they’re real. I bought this for my mom for Mother’s Day once. It was symbolic, you know. I was missing her and wanted to give her a present. So I worked really hard to sell a lot of stuff that month and I got this bracelet from a lady who used to run a booth on the other side of the mall.”
God, how sad.
“But I’ve been thinking about it lately and I’d like for it to go to a mother, even if it can’t go to my mother. Do you think your mother would like this?” She lifts it up towards my face and then smiles one of those sweet, innocent little girl smiles at me.
Holy shit that almost cracks my black Grinch heart. “Absolutely,” I say. “My mom would die to have this bracelet. How much?”
“I have it marked at seventy-five, but since—”
“Done.” I grab some more cash from my wallet and lay it out on the counter. “Seventy-five is a steal.”
“Want me to gift wrap it?” She looks up at me smiling. “I’ll put it in a pretty jewelry bag. With ribbons and everything. And make a card too. I’ll be fast.” And before I can even answer yes, she’s got the ribbon and scissors out. “You should look for something for your friend who is a girl.” And then she stops mid-cut and looks up at me. “If she’s just a friend, you don’t give fancy things. Something small that seems insignificant, but really isn’t. OK?”
Relationship advice from a twelve-year-old. My life couldn’t be any more pathetic. But I do browse for something to give Rook. I walk inside the girl’s booth a little farther and start to take things in. “What’s your name?” I ask her, as she busily ties ribbons to the jewelry bag.
“Sasha Alena Cherlin.”
“Not Nikita then?” She laughs, like she got the joke, and that makes me like her even more. “I don’t have a middle name, so Ford will have to do. Ford Aston. Sign my name on the card, OK? I have terrible handwriting. And sign yours too, so my mom knows it came from you as well.”
“Awww… that’s so sweet, Ford. I’m gonna put little pink hearts on the tag too.”
“Do it up right, Nikita.”
“Sasha!” she squeals.
“Right—” I stop mid-sentence because I see the perfect gift for Rook. “I want that for the girl who is a friend.”
She puts her stuff down and walks over to me. “Eric Cartman? For a girl? I’m not sure…”
“No, I’m sure. It’s perfect.” The little Eric Cartman figure has mirrored shades, a cop uniform, and he’s holding a nightstick. I laugh out loud as I picture Rook saying, ‘Respect ma authora-tay’ when she sees it. Can’t cost more than five bucks, but this is the perfect gift for Rook. Something small that seems insignificant, but really isn’t.
“Gift wrap?” Sasha asks.
“Yeah, but better leave your name off this one, OK?”
“For sure, Ford,” she winks at me. “I’m a woman, I totally get it.”
Just as Sasha is finishing up the gift wrap, Merc peeks his head out from behind the curtain that leads to the back. “Ford!” he yells over to me. “You can take off man, this job just got complicated.”
I give him a little salute, but he’s already disappeared.
“You really aren't a hunter, then?”
I look down at Sasha and smile at her. “I told you I wasn’t.”
“So now you have time for me to gift-wrap your knife.” She grabs the box and takes it over to the little table that’s doubling as a makeshift wrapping station.
“It’s for me, Sasha. It doesn’t need to be gift-wrapped.”
“It’s like a present to yourself, Ford. Just go with it.”
Just go with it. I laugh. “You’re kinda funny. Why are you working on Christmas Eve? Because my friend had a deal with your dad?”
“No,” she says softly as she continues to wrap my knife case very carefully. “We always work until noon on Christmas Eve, just in case people wander in and need help. Like you.” She looks over her shoulder and smiles before going back to her cutting and twisting. “Then we drive to my grandparents ranch near Sheridan.”
“That’s a long drive.”
“Yeah, I love the drive. I just look out the window and think about my grandparents and how fantastic it will be to see them. We’ll have early calves this year for my 4H project and I get to stay up there and help.” She stays silent for a few seconds. “I love the babies. Why are you working on Christmas Eve?” she asks, as she turns with my packages.
“I don’t do Christmas Eve. I usually just try to avoid the whole holiday.”
“Well,” she huffs, “you failed. You have a present to unwrap and two people you love will get a gift from you this year.” She flashes me her braces and I smile back as she pushes my packages across the glass.
I stuff them in my coat pockets and shoot my finger at her, Spencer style. “Merry Christmas, Sasha Alena Cherlin. Hope you do well at State next year so you can tag that deer. And may your calf be the biggest one at weaning.”
She covers her mouth to laugh and I turn around and walk away grinning.
