Tower Records

Purity

September
1991

Purity, to be pure.
An absence of immorality.
To not be depraved.

The pursuit, as humans, we all find ourselves in at some point.

To want to be clean.
Righteous.
Untainted.

Especially if you're a woman.

Lori had been a woman for a long time.
Twenty three years in fact.

Most of it had felt like a blur.
Like a rush from her childhood, to adulthood.

Lori couldn't pinpoint when grace stopped being extended to her.
By her family, by strangers and friends and colleagues.

But, she guessed, it happened somewhere between her nineteenth birthday, and her twenty first.

Twenty three was not an age to be stupid, or uneducated.

It was no longer endearing to sleep in, or stay up late.

Even when her body could only take her to empty her bladder and back to her blankets in time for her favourite tv show.

Now, her mother knocked on her door harder.

Said her name harsher from downstairs.

She'd watched the comfort of childhood, slip through her pretty fingers, and into the sink.

Growing up.
Growing out, and away.

It had only been yesterday, she'd danced on the hard green carpet of her mothers LA apartment, stomping her feet to MTV.

Clicking on beat, and switching her hips, and humming contently, because she could hear frying coming from the kitchen.

Now, she couldn't dance in the living room all day.

Her mother had forced her into the rat race.
The 9-5.

Working.

It was only the right thing to do.

After high school, and after not going to college, Lori had always managed to stay rent free in her childhood bedroom.

Just existing.

But her mother had insisted this time.

Keep a job.
Be good at it.
Take pride in it.

Lori didn't like waitressing.
She didn't like fashion retail.

She hated hot plates on her hands, and she hated changing lifeless mannequins for shop windows that few rarely glanced into.

Lori didn't like housekeeping.
She didn't like babysitting.

She didn't understand why she had to fold every towel in the same mundane way, and she always felt anxious whenever parents would quickly wave goodbye, and leave her with their children.

So, when Lori's mother waved the number of the Tower Records manager in her child's face one morning over breakfast, the girl had no choice but to call.

Gordon, had hired her quickly.

A short, mouse haired man, with fat hands and fingers.

He had a moustache reminiscent of Borat, with inset green eyes.

Kind eyes.

He'd always worn old dress shoes, and a suit that hung off of him in a sad way.

Even on Lori's first day, he patted the girls back softly, as she stared helplessly at the cash register in front of her.

"It does all the adding for you, don't worry.." He had chuckled, jigging her stiff body by the shoulder.

Lori didn't want to appear nervous.
Most of the time she was confident.

But something about new employment, and having to admit you know nothing right now, made her hands jitter whenever she pressed the numbers on the register.

Gordon admired Lori.

She had a naivety that only the younger employees had.

A flippancy, that only a twenty three year old could pull off.

When she made the wrong change, or installed the wrong display, it didn't bother him too much.

Lori was dutiful.
Kind.
Helpful.

She had a sort of love for music, that made most customers appear mildly uncomfortable.

A purity, in a way.

"That's such a good one, did you get the extended release? There's a remix on it, and if you listen close, you can hear how Rodney J took apart the four part harmony and screwed it up.." Is just a mild example of some of the girls musings with casual customers.

Some of them loved it.

Others would stare on at her, wondering why she hadn't put their purchase in the little yellow plastic bags yet.

And so, as fate would have it, it would only be right, that on her first week working at Tower Records, she'd come into contact with Michael.

The regular.
The bulk buyer.

Her favourite kind of customer.