The Mistake

Chapter 1 Part 1

"Good morning, Mrs. Ashbury. Off to the park to feed the birds?" The elevator doors swished shut and the faux, wood-grained cab descended with a slight jerk.

"Somebody has to do the Lord's work," the elderly woman replied with an elevated nose. Her white hair burst like free radicals from beneath an ancient tennis tournament visor and she gripped her cart possessively with gnarled fingers encased in blue golf gloves.

"Yes, he is a bit of a slacker, isn't he?" The cab stopped and the doors opened. He waved the glowering woman off with a modest bow and followed her across the lobby to the main exit, holding the door again and smiling quite without concern over her opinion that his remark was blasphemous. "Have another lovely day, Mrs. Ashbury."

      Christopher Wallace strode up the sidewalk heading for the corner and across the intersection to the mall. An early sun was already heating the cement sidewalk and he could feel his shirt begin to cling. First he planned on collecting a little bit of cash from his bank machine and then he was off to the large retail store to pick up some socks on the End of Summer Blast—Sale. The shortcut through the parking lot called for him to wade through Mrs. Ashbury's' adopted noisy gaggle of fearless gulls and pigeons, stepping with care the entire way; he would have gladly trampled the dirty lot. There was no line-up at the bank, which meant he might be able to get in and out of the mall without too much hassle. Across the lot again and into the mall entrance, immediately shivering in the unnecessarily frigid air. The small stores flanking the large retailer were just opening. The owners, not endearing themselves to their anticipated customers, dragged sandwich board notices out into the middle of the aisles, cutting by half the traffic route. Inside the main store, a bleary-eyed greeter wearing an arranged, dry smile and cradling an armful of sale sheets yawned and blinked as the first wave pushed through the turnstiles.

      The number of early shoppers increased noticeably as he made his way to the men's section, the result of another entrance on the opposite side of the store where the parking was in the shade in the morning. Christopher watched a young mother pursue her charge around the displays, issuing the promise of untold agonies when she caught up. An unlikely event. The socks he wanted hung at eye level with a large red and white tag stating that the purchase of one pair gave him another at half price. He lifted several pairs from the hook and marched happily back to the checkout. On the way, a bin of DVDs that were marked down to three for ten dollars caught his attention and he raked through the dozens of boxes, hoping for a gem. A few other shoppers drifted over and began shuffling through the piles and he bristled inside as they pushed the ones he had already discarded back over to his corner. Christopher spread his feet and staked out his side of the bin, not moving for any of the newcomers and was finally rewarded with three movies he had not yet seen. With a triumphant jut of chin, he took his purchases to the cash.

      Back out in the concourse, he browsed a few of the small shops, making certain he wasn't missing anything of value and deciding he wasn't, finally headed outside. The sun was higher and the threat of a very moist day presented itself. Already the pavement was hot under foot and people moved single file along the face of the buildings in the decreasing strip of shadow. The coffee shop on the corner was taking advantage of the mall sale and was offering a small coffee and choice of doughnut for one dollar. He could see a shift in the pedestrian traffic as the sign worked its magic and he picked up the pace, eager to get out of the heat and enjoy a rare, inexpensive treat.

      Christopher settled himself at a small corner table, setting his shopping bag at his feet and shifting his chair to permit a woman wearing a sari and pushing a stroller to slide past. The wheel barked his shin and he grunted in annoyance receiving a helpless smile in exchange. Not a good trade. A moment later things improved immensely when a delightfully good-looking young woman asked to share the table, and as he pulled the chair back for her, another, much older, approached from the other side. He tried to reach for another chair and managed to knock the young woman's bag out of her hand. She cried out and Christopher responded with a barrage of apologies and attempts at consolation. She gathered her bag and tucked it under her feet as she sat. The older woman sat as well, thanking him as he returned to his own chair, oving his bag closer to the young woman, out of his way.