I was in the clothing store, just looking at some shirts. It was a Saturday, so many people were there. I like to look at the clothes, sometimes I remember all the different styles from last year, even the small changes. It is like a game for me, to see how new things are but also how old things are too. My memory for clothes is very good. I can see a shirt and remember when it was on the racks before, maybe in a different color.
Near the dressing rooms, there was a woman. She was standing in front of a mirror, holding a dress. The dress was shiny blue, the kind that costs a lot of money. She was looking at herself. She had dark hair, long, and she was wearing a lot of makeup. She was not a small lady, but she acted like she was the most special person there. Her face showed she thought she was very pretty. I heard her talking to a man who stood a little behind her. He had an unhappy look on his face, like he did not want to be there. He was looking at his phone most of the time.
The woman, she was talking loud enough for many people to hear. She was saying how this dress was wrong. She said it had a tear. She held it up and pointed at a tiny spot near the bottom hem. It was really a very small tear, not easy to see. She said it was like that when she got it. She said she had just taken it from the rack.
A store worker came over. She was a young girl, maybe my age. She had a name tag that said ‘Sarah’. Sarah looked at the dress. She was polite. She said, “I am sorry, ma’am. We check all our items before they go out.”
The woman made a loud noise, like a sigh. “I know what I saw,” she said. Her voice got a little louder. “This dress was torn. I should get it for free. For the trouble. You know? It’s damaged goods.”
The man with her, he looked up from his phone. He just shook his head a little bit. He did not say anything. He just looked away.
Sarah tried to explain. “We can give you a discount, ma’am, but not for free. This is a very expensive dress.”
The woman started to get very red in the face. “A discount? After this? Do you know who I am?” She did not wait for an answer. “I am a valued customer here. My husband spends a lot of money here. This is an insult! I deserve this dress for free.”
I was still looking at shirts, but I could hear everything. I remember seeing that same blue dress just last week, in perfect condition. It was right by the display window. And I also remember seeing the woman, or someone like her, with a very similar dress. My memory for clothes is like a photo in my head.
Sarah got a bit scared. She said, “I need to call my manager, ma’am. I cannot give you a free dress.”
The woman made a face. She crossed her arms. “Fine. Call your manager. But I am not moving. I am not paying for this dress. It is damaged. And you should be grateful I am even taking it off your hands.”
Sarah went to a phone on the wall and called someone. She spoke in a quiet voice. The woman kept talking to herself, loud, about how bad the service was. Her husband was still just looking at his phone, maybe playing a game. He did not seem to care much about her being upset.
A few minutes went by. Other shoppers were starting to look over. The woman did not seem to mind. She actually seemed to like the attention. She held the dress up again, showing the small tear, like it was a very big hole.
Then, a small dog started barking. It was a tiny dog, white and fluffy, in a lady’s purse a few aisles over. It barked very loud, over and over. The woman got even angrier. She yelled, “Can someone shut that dog up? This is a store, not a dog park!” The lady with the dog looked very surprised and pulled her dog closer.
The manager came. He was a man with grey hair, looked tired. He listened to the woman. She told her story again, about the torn dress she just found. She said she was very upset. She talked about how long she had been a customer. She said she would never shop here again.
The manager looked at the dress. He looked at the woman. He tried to be calm. He said, “Ma’am, I understand you are upset. But this tear looks like it could have happened easily. We cannot give away a dress for something like this.”
The woman stomped her foot. “It was like this! I know it was! Are you calling me a liar?” Her voice was very loud now. Everyone could hear.
I felt a small push in my stomach. She was saying things that were not true. I knew that. My memory is good. I saw this dress. I also saw her earlier.
I walked closer, slowly. I did not want to make trouble, but I felt like I had to say something. My mind was putting things in order. The dress was fine before. She was not fine now.
“Excuse me,” I said, my voice not very loud.
The woman looked at me, like I was dirt. “What do you want?” she snapped.
“I saw you earlier,” I said. “You were holding that dress. About an hour ago.”
She laughed. “No, you didn’t. I just picked this up!”
“No,” I said again. My memory was very clear. “You were in the fitting room. For a long time. Maybe thirty minutes. And you came out with that dress on. You were looking at yourself in the big mirror by the front. You even spun around.”
Her face got even redder. Her husband looked up from his phone, really looking this time. He seemed a little bit surprised.
“You are lying!” she yelled. “I never wore this dress! I just found it now!”
“No,” I said. “You wore it. And you were talking to your husband about the hem. You said it was a bit long. And that’s exactly where the tear is, at the bottom. It looked fine when you were wearing it.” I remembered the tiny stitching pattern at the hem very well. I also remembered she had a small, almost star-shaped mole right under her left eye, which I noticed when she was admiring herself.
The manager looked from her to me. He asked, “Is this true, ma’am? You wore the dress?”
She was quiet for a moment. Then she tried to change the subject. “This is none of her business! She is just some busybody!”
Her husband cleared his throat. He put his phone in his pocket. He looked at his wife. “Honey,” he said, very quietly. “You did try it on. Remember? You were worried about the length.”
She glared at him. “Whose side are you on?” she hissed.
The manager looked at her very seriously. “Ma’am, if you wore the dress, and then it got damaged while you had it, you are responsible. This is not something we can give to you for free.”
She began to shout again. She said it was still the store’s fault. She said she would call her lawyer. She said she would tell everyone not to come to this store.
The manager did not look tired anymore. He looked firm. “Ma’am,” he said. “If you do not wish to purchase the dress, we can take it back. But we will not be giving it to you for free, and we will have to mark it as damaged.”
She was so angry her hands were shaking. She threw the dress onto the floor. “Fine!” she screamed. “I don’t want your stupid dress! You people are all terrible!”
She grabbed her husband’s arm and pulled him. He stumbled a little, still looking annoyed. They walked out very fast. She was still muttering loud words as she left the store.
The manager picked up the dress. He looked at me. “Thank you,” he said. “For clearing that up.”
I just nodded. My stomach did not feel pushed anymore. I went back to looking at the shirts. It was good that the truth came out. That woman, she just walked away from her own mess. But she did not get what she wanted, and she was very mad about it.
The store was quiet again, except for the tiny dog’s occasional yelp as its owner tried to calm it down. Sometimes, things just need to be said.
