ERNIE AND ERNESTINA: Searching

Book Two, Chapter 278: Newly New

Nearly New, my favorite thrift shop, begins its annual three-day sale featuring fall and winter clothing. The doors open at ten. I’m there shortly thereafter, and already heads are bobbing all over the shop.

I’m looking for a pair of flats to wear with my skirts. Lately I’ve been wearing Ernie’s saddle oxfords. They’re well-made and help me feel balanced, yet wearing them also gives me the opposite feeling — one of dizziness. Rather than looking down and seeing me wearing these shoes, I see Ernie wearing them. I feel his legs, his feet. I feel his quick movement, his determination. I want to follow him, yet he’s no longer leading. I’m the only one here.

“Where are the women’s shoes?” I ask a white-haired clerk in a striped top.

“To the rear and to the left,” she says, pointing to the shop’s lower level.

The shoes in my size are lined up on the last table. Only one pair attracts me — tasseled loafers in a soft buttery leather. I pick one up. Made in Italy. Nine dollars. I slip it on. Too big. My heel flops out.

“I’ll give you a tip,” a nearby clerk says. “Buy a pair of innersoles. That’ll make them feel a size smaller.”

Ernie had a pair of tasseled loafers he put innersoles in, so I buy these, then head to Charles Street for another session of gardening.

After a few hours of transplanting irises, I head home. I’m thirsty, hungry, and too tired to fix myself a proper meal so I serve myself two helpings of orange sherbet. Then I bathe and dress. Then I fit Ernie’s innersoles into my nearly new loafers, put on two pairs of socks, step into the shoes, take a few steps — my heels no longer flop — and, surprising myself, head back to the sale.

It’s a little after five, and the shop stays open tonight until six. Perhaps a pair of boots?

No suitable boots, but I drift over to the scarves. I like scarves, and two appeal to me because of their color and the feel of their fine wool weave. I wrap each about my black turtleneck, trying different overlaps and knots.

The shop’s lights dim. We will be closing in ten minutes. Please bring your items to the register.

I look around. No one’s about. All the clerks and customers are at the front of the store.

Slowly I walk to the check-out table and get in line. In the old days I would’ve worn these two scarves out the door, leaving without paying. Not anymore. I’m practicing honesty now.

Church bells ring out six times as I head home, the tassels of my loafers flipping and flapping with my movement. They’re like little pom-poms cheering me on. I’m a newly new person giving myself balance and direction in my newly new life.