THE 33 KEYS: Key 2 - ANSWER THE CALL "Listen for that Perfect Beat"

CHAPTER 18: HERE, THERE, EVERYWHERE

Now I have a new problem. Hazel thinks we should make a morning of it, do some window-shopping through the city. Perhaps she forgot that she is still wearing the yellow floral. However, my memory is longer than time.

Lillian Street is hot and littered with young mothers who had just dropped their children off and have a few minutes to spare before they go home. I wonder. Did my mother ever have time for such frivolities? I know she never had much time for me. Zero room for a needy child backstage, I guess.

Just as I had thought, Hazel's dress is an instant hit. Almost everyone spins around to get a second look. People are pointing from across the street, and by people I mean two Triple B girls stepping out to fill the air with toxic gas. Yet Hazel is oblivious to their giggles. Much to her delight though, I chuck her through the Ficus trees that stand between the office building and burger joint. This puts us at the base of Granderson Street.

We swing left at the next corner. Hazel knows where we are headed, the mall on Owl Street. It is not my cup of tea but a necessary evil to escape those blood hounds. Let me harbour snide thoughts about her looks if I choose. She is after all my Rubrum. Not yours. So if anyone is going to make fun of her, it should be me, right?

Soon enough, we enter the mall and are immediately blasted by a level of coldness that contradicts the welcome sign on the door. Hazel is in her glee though. She just loves the temperature. Plus, there is cloth here, there and everywhere. She gravitates towards the brighter section, fluorescent in every colour you can think of. I hope beyond hope that she has no money. She pulls fifty dollars out from her bra, like her future grandmother self would do, and instructs the girl to cut a yard in three colours. God Almighty! What the hell for?

I do not have to wonder for long.

"I saw this beautiful two-toned dress once. I'll go up on it a notch, three tones."

I don't even fake it this time.

"That sounds horrible!"

"What?"

I decide it is best to find my escape quickly.

"You know what. It's too early for that line to be so long."

"Tell me about it."

"I think I'll go look around a bit."

"After what happened the last time?"

"Don't worry. I can't get lost twice in the same mall."

"How will I find you?"

"We'll meet by the crafting store."

I hustle away to build warmth then four stores later unwillingly retrace my steps to read the board. Once in the store, I engage the clerk in back and forth banter about my candles. Reds and whites are in abundance; however, she is not sure there are any blacks left.

"Please, without the black it's useless. I might as well put the others back."

She heads to the back room and rummages through stuff just beyond the door. I watch her search aimlessly for a few minutes, get called to the front twice to attend to another customer, and do an exchange before she finally comes back out with my prized goods.

"Are you doing that chain prayer thing?" she asks. "The one about the child of light?"

"These are for my mother," I lie. "She's into witchcraft and that type of shit."

Her eyes widen like saucers.

"Girl, then you must be rich. All that prayer got me was this job."

I almost throw the candles back and walk out. Day two and my only inspiration, to finish tomorrow, is this woman's accomplishments. Instead, I pay the ten dollars for everything and leave.

Hazel meets me at the crafting store as planned. I wander the length and breadth of it then buy nothing. We head to the grocery next. It hurts me to see freshly packaged vegetables and meats, big blocks of cheese for the cheesiest pasta dishes, and merchandisers pushing cheap new snacks, none of which I can buy and enjoy with my novels. Hazel takes up a few items and disappears to the adjoining aisle. I lose myself in the array of abundance until I knock over a mountain of empty boxes. The manager gives me a nasty look before shouting at a boy way too young to be working here during the month of September.

"Marc!" he screams. "I thought I told you to clear that aisle since yesterday?"

"I'll get to it right now," Marc says quickly. "I promise."

For some reason, I bend over to help him pick them up. And Marc gives me a smile of appreciation. Then his hand touches mine by accident and I immediately get a flashback. It is almost as if we have been in this same position before, only that he does not seem familiar to me. Matters not though. We are sure to meet again soon. Because somewhere between now and the Matron's deadline I will have to return for those same boxes.