27.2 - with the lights out, it's less dangerous

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       We pull into the mall parking lot a few minutes after noon. I pick a parking space close to the exit so when we finish we can leave quickly. I shift the gear into park and lean over to crank my window up, motioning to Kyle to do the same.
I pull the sun-visor down and grab my lipstick out of my purse, fixing up the edges before we get out. I see him shift out of the corner of my eye and grab something off the floor.
       "You're going to bring that?"
       "Yeah. Why'd you think I grabbed it before we left?" Of course he's going to bring it.
       I look at him for a long moment, then get out. I hear his door slam shut.

       I pluck at my hair and clothes, pushing and pulling them into comfortable positions. I'm nervous; I can feel my nails gouging the cracked leather of my purse. My fingers are begging for a cigarette. This whole "quitting" business is terrible for the nerves. I can't help myself and reach over to push the hair out of Kyle's face, but he shrugs away from me.
       I harrumph, "Kyle, honey, I think you're overdue for a haircut."
       "Mom, it's Kylie now. And I don't want a haircut. I like my hair like this."
       I cringe. Again with the Kylie? Who's this Kylie?
       Smiling despite this, "You're starting to look like-" I catch myself, "I can't have you so- so unkempt."

       Just then we reach the mall's front doors. I fold my arm around his, switching my purse to that hand. We're both unfamiliar with this mall, so we wander around for a little while, gawking at window displays. We come across a clothing store, and Kyle tugs gently.
       "Mom, come on, let's go into this one first."

       So in we go. The woman at the front desk smiles at us, and I wave back. We go towards the back of the store, following the tiled footpath. Soon we come to a split that reaches to either side of us. I pull towards the right, the men's side, but Kyle stops and smacks my hand off his arm and heads towards the women's. Maybe he didn't see the sign?
       I follow after him, coming up behind him. He's going through the clothes?
       "Kyle, dear, you're in the wrong section. The men's clothes are over there." I point to the other side.
       "Kylie. Mom, I know that."
       I put my hand on his arm and pull him gently away from the rack. He jerks it out and turns his back on me, giving me the cold shoulder. Excuse me?

       He pulls a snaky shirt off the rack and asks derisively, "You think it'll fit, Mom?"
       I stare at him in disgust. He folds it over his arm and strolls off to another rack. I follow him in disbelief.

       "Kyle, stop this foolishness."
       He picks a rack full of horrible little dresses. The sign says they're on sale. Yes, and for good reason.
       "Kyle!"
       He continues to ignore me and finds an even more distasteful thing hiding in the depths of fabric. He holds it up and looks it over.
       I take it from him and put the dreadful thing back on the rack, "Kyle, we are done. Now let's go."
       "No, Mom."
       He digs it off the rack again, and walks off to the changing rooms.

       I go after him, rubbing my face with annoyance, "Kyle-"
       He slams the door in my face, locking it loudly.

       I raise my fist to knock, but let it drop uselessly to my side. I take a deep breath and lean casually against the wall, tapping my heel on the plaster. I peek around the corner, looking for any other shoppers or employees, but I don't see anyone else. My fingers snap to my cigarette case and lighter, and I find myself puffing calmly, the act of smoking easing my nerves.

       I hear soft sounds coming from inside the dressing room, so expect Kyle to be finishing up. The door suddenly bursts open, startling me, and Kyle stands wearing the awful thing, haughtily looking at me. Feeling embarrassed, I snuff my cigarette out and roll it back up with the others.
       "Take it off," I tell him abruptly.
       "What?"
       "You heard me. Take it off. We're leaving, Kyle."
       "But-"
       "I'm tired of you acting like this, making a fool out of me. This is absurd. Preposterous! What would your father think of you?"

       He looks taken aback by this, and his face flushes red, "Don't you dare make this about him. You know exactly how Dad would've felt."
       I catch myself laughing. He thinks he knows so much.
       "Oh? Just because he left due to you, Kyle-"
       "Me?! Mom, he left because you're a cold-hearted bi-"
       I slap him as hard as I can across the cheek.

       He shoves me violently into the wall. My heel connects with it, leaving a dent and cracking my shoe. He stares at me, wide-mouthed, and I stare right back.

       I stand up and adjust my clothes. I wipe my mouth, and lipstick- blood? -comes away.
       "Mom-" he tries, but his voice cracks, "why are you doing this to me?"
       I look at him for a long time, not quite believing his antagonizing tone. I open my mouth to answer, but he interrupts.
       "Mom, you're hurting me. And I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry you lost your little boy, but stop denying it. I'm here. I'm me still. Mom, look at me."
       I take a dubious look at his greasy hair, garishly-colored lips, and that ridiculous, too-small dress.
       "Mom, I'm me, okay? This is the first time in my life I've ever felt like me, 100 percent, completely me."
       "Kyle."
       "Kylie."
       "Kyle, we're going home. Take it off."

       He walks away and grabs his stuff from the changing room, then shoves his way past me and out into the store. I follow close behind him, but my shoe keeps bothering me, so I start to lose him. By the time I get there, he's already handing the money over to the woman behind the counter.
       "Kyle-"
       He keeps walking, heading out of the store.

       I come up to the counter, a little out of breath.
       The woman quirks an eyebrow, but hands me his change without a word.
       "He's going through a phase."
       I smile apologetically, and hobble out the doors into the main mall area.

       I look around for Kyle, but I can't see him anywhere so I head towards the doors we came in at. They have a bench just inside the mall, so I take a seat and pull out my barely smoked cigarette. I heave on it, taking long, deliberate breaths and holding them. The smoke curls a halo around my hair. I only put it down when it's nothing but a nub. I stab it into the ashtray next to the bench, gaining satisfaction from the crushed ash.

       I stand, brush myself off, and stumble out of the mall and into the parking lot. I really regret parking so far away. It takes me a while to get to the car, and I just crumple into the seat when I finally get there.

       I sit there, resting, listening to Kyle's infrequent sniffs.
       "Kyle, what has gotten into you?"
       He sniffs loudly and straightens his back, "You know how Dad would feel?"
       I fiddle with the keys, sticking them into the ignition.
       He wipes his face with his bare arm, "Proud."