The Everyday She Chose for the First Time (2)
The two of them picked out a few more pieces of clothing.
Comfortable T-shirts and loungewear, pajamas, light skirts and cardigans. At first the Saintess chose carefully, but her hands gradually grew quicker. She compared colors, felt the fabrics, and held things up in front of the mirror.
The Hero left most of the choices to her.
Sometimes he said, “This color’s pretty too,” and sometimes, “I think you’d like this one.” Even those simple words made her re-grip the handles of the shopping bags.
She also chose a small white canvas tote.
The Saintess slipped it over her shoulder and looked at herself in the mirror again. It was far lighter than the temporary document envelope she had been carrying until a moment ago.
In front of the mirror she adjusted the canvas strap once more.
The way it settled against her shoulder felt strangely right.
A few outfits and the canvas bag went into the shopping bags.
After they paid, the Saintess decided to walk out wearing the new white cardigan and beige long skirt she had just chosen. The price tags the clerk had removed lay on the counter; the clothes she had worn since morning were carefully folded and tucked deep inside a bag.
As she stepped out of the shop she glanced down at the hem of the skirt.
The fabric she had touched with her fingertips only a little while ago now swayed in time with her own steps.
Then, in front of the next store, she grew quiet again.
It was a lingerie shop.
Behind the glass window, pastel bra sets and panties, lace-trimmed slips, and small, elaborate pieces of underwear were neatly arranged. The Saintess stopped walking.
In front of the clothing store her fingertips had moved first; this time she only gripped the shopping-bag handles tighter.
The Hero read her expression and stood a little farther back.
“I’ll wait outside. Take your time.”
She looked at him.
“You’re not coming in with me?”
The moment the words left her mouth her face flushed first.
The Hero tried not to smile.
“Call me if you need me.”
“No. It’s fine. It won’t take long.”
She answered in an overly neat voice and stepped inside.
The door closed behind her and she let out a small breath.
Inside the lingerie shop a clerk’s greeting and soft music floated low in the air.
Yet to the Saintess only the sound of her own heart seemed unusually loud.
She went first to the display that looked the most ordinary.
Pale pink.
Light sky blue.
Cream.
Soft cotton and thin lace.
Even under the sign that read “everyday wear,” small bits of lace and gentle colors were attached.
She lightly touched only the edge of the fabric with her fingertips, then let go.
Carefully she chose a few pieces.
For the sizes that would fit her body she accepted the clerk’s help.
When the clerk took out the measuring tape, the Saintess’s fingertips stiffened for a moment.
Still, she nodded.
She looked at the numbers on the size chart, then at the underwear in her hands.
Then her gaze stopped at one corner.
Black.
A small, thin T-back panty hung among the others. The lace was little more than decoration, and there was less fabric than she had expected. She immediately imagined how it would feel against her skin.
And right away she wanted to pretend she had never thought of it.
But the memory of last night rose first.
How easily her body had flushed under the blanket.
The careful voice that had called her name.
The moment she closed her eyes in embarrassment yet never fled from him.
And just earlier, the hands they had held on the street.
The night she had called his name under the covers and the day she had held his hand at the crosswalk rushed into her chest all at once.
Her fingertips halted near the black lace.
It was too shameful to pick up.
Yet even after she looked away, her fingertips returned to it.
She swallowed a small breath and glanced through the glass door.
The Hero stood a short distance from the entrance. He held his phone, but the screen had not moved for a long time.
His body was angled slightly away from the glass, his head turned toward the sign of the next shop.
The Saintess looked at the black lace again.
She swallowed another small breath, then carefully lifted the black lace piece.
Quickly she tucked it deep among the pastel sets she had already chosen.
Even after she let go, its place kept bothering her.
After she paid, she re-gripped the handles so that the black piece would settle deep inside the bag—hidden among the pastel wrapping paper, out of sight.
Her fingers hooked tightly around the inner side of the handles.
When she stepped out of the shop the Hero raised his head.
“All done?”
Her nod came a little too fast.
“Yes. Ordinary things.”
“Yeah?”
She looked away.
“…Almost.”
The Hero watched her for a moment.
Her ears were redder than before.
She was hugging the shopping bag unusually close to her body.
He glanced at the bag once, said nothing, and turned his head toward the next store’s sign.
Only then did her gaze lift a little from the bag.
“Shall we go eat, then?”
Her shoulders eased down a fraction.
She adjusted her grip on the handles and raised her head.
“Yes.”
The two of them entered a hamburger restaurant.
Inside it was bright and a little noisy. The menu board above the counter was crowded with photos and text; people sat at every table. There were groups that looked like students, and someone drinking coffee alone.
Even after she sat down, the Saintess followed the surrounding sounds for a while.
The menu board, the trays people carried, the straws stuck into paper cups came into her eyes one after another.
She was wearing the new clothes she had just bought.
White cardigan.
Beige long skirt.
White canvas tote and several shopping bags.
Hands carefully folding her arms so the sleeves would not get dirty.
A face studying the menu as if it were an exam.
The tips of her new shoes gathered a little inward under the table.
The shopping bags sat neatly side by side beside her chair.
She sat across from him wearing the clothes she herself had chosen.
The Hero opened his mouth to explain the menu, then forgot the words for a moment.
The sleeves of the new cardigan covered the backs of her hands; beneath the skirt the tips of the new shoes were carefully drawn together under the table.
“Hero?”
“Yeah. What do you want to eat?”
“There are so many kinds.”
The Saintess studied the menu with serious eyes.
It was the face of someone reading exam questions.
“You don’t have to think too hard about it. Want to try the basic one?”
“The basic one?”
“Yeah. For a first time, that’s the safest.”
She nodded.
When the food arrived she stared at the hamburger for a long while.
Meat, vegetables, and sauce were tucked between the buns. The smell was strong, and the fact that she had to hold it with her bare hands felt especially unfamiliar.
“Do you eat it holding it with your hands like this?”
“Yeah. Don’t overthink it.”
The Saintess carefully lifted the hamburger with both hands.
Just before she took a bite she hesitated for the briefest second.
“Is date food usually eaten this way?”
The Hero could not hold back his laugh.
“Is there even such a thing as date food?”
She thought about it seriously for a moment.
Then, looking very carefully at the hamburger, she said,
“Then if we eat it today, this becomes date food.”
The Hero finally laughed outright.
The Saintess looked at him with a face that did not understand why he was laughing, then smiled a little late in return.
And at last she took a bite of the hamburger.
Her eyes widened slightly.
“How is it?”
She answered only after she had swallowed everything in her mouth.
“It’s strong.”
“The taste?”
“Yes. The taste… is very strong. But I keep wanting more.”
“That’s a hamburger.”
She took another bite.
This time it was a little more natural. Still, too much force remained in her hands, and sauce pushed slightly out from the edge of the bun.
The Hero saw it and almost laughed, but held it in.
She ate diligently.
One bite, a short pause to think, then another bite.
When the sauce threatened to spill, more strength went into her fingers.
Then a smear of sauce appeared at the corner of her mouth.
Without thinking the Hero reached out.
“You’ve got some.”
She stopped.
“Where?”
“Here.”
His hand halted near the corner of her mouth.
Even before a single fingertip touched her, a short silence settled between them.
The Saintess smiled softly in front of the hand that had stopped so close to her lips.
“You can wipe it for me.”
The Hero drew in a very short breath.
“…Yeah.”
He carefully wiped the sauce from the corner of her mouth with his finger.
The tips of her ears were red again. When he withdrew his hand, both of them looked back at their food.
The fingertip that had just touched her lingered late against her mouth; a little more strength went into the hand holding the hamburger.
She looked down at the burger in her hands and said quietly,
“Hero.”
“Yeah?”
“I feel like I went on my first date with my boyfriend today.”
His answer came late.
Wondering if she had said something strange, she lifted her head.
The Hero rested his hand on his cup, then set it down again.
Only after steadying his breath once did he answer.
“…Me too.”
At that single word the Saintess smiled.
She placed the shopping bag on her lap and held it tightly with both hands.
Inside were the clothes she had chosen today, and the clothes she had worn until morning, neatly folded.
And one thing she had not yet shown the Hero was hidden there as well.
She looked at the Hero across from her.
He lifted his water cup and took a sip.
Then, with a perfectly ordinary face, he folded the napkin on the tray.
Her face flushed again.
Inside the handles the paper wrapping rustled softly.
Her fingers hooked even deeper around the inner side of the bag.