Chapter 61: [15] A Rock & Family Vacation 15 [Mystery Rock Arc]

A Rock and Family Vacation

[15]

The store was modestly busy when she arrived and visibly filled with teen and adult women. Blair gave her stick to a desk off to the side that held skates and skateboards. They didn't ask why she had a stick with her, and she declined to explain.

She randomly checked herself again, to make sure nothing changed in the last few moments. The other ladies didn’t pay her much heed. Weaving her way to the pick-up section at the back brought her through a variety of racks and displays that she totally would’ve glossed over before, but now they deserved some thought. Maybe not the ones with price tags stretching into the triple digits though.

Despite being a goofball as a kid with her mom‘s stuff, an ingrained, screaming taboo alerted her that these clothes were not for her. She felt wobbly when reminding herself that things were different now. Also, the absolute swath of what was on display felt like a massive mental spiderweb designed to ensnare her for hours on end. Mom and she were both in agreement that clothing was a task to address like a chore. Grab the stuff that looked and felt right, check that it fits, and then get the heck out of there.

Dodging and weaving persistently through those traps allowed her to finally push all the way to the back with a register alone labeled online pick-up. The lady working that register seemed like a tired, decorative ornament crossed with one of those toys that moved only when it heard a noise. Her limbs hung as she shifted her hands across the keys without lifting them.

Lacy’s stuff was already bagged but Blair took the opportunity to spread it out and compare it against her shape and visualize an imaginary Lacy. She scrutinized the tags and compared her mother‘s measurements. The polo appeared that it might be a little on the large size. For Lacy’s sake, it seemed like a better idea than being desperately or embarrassingly tight. Same for the shorts, even though they didn’t cover as much leg as she was expecting. She figured that was another girl fashion thing. Hopefully Lacy wouldn’t lose her mind.

The big problem was the comfort band. She had no experience or certainty about whether this would fit her sister. Despite the pleasant, captivating excursion, she wasn’t interested in rushing around to breathlessly correct details just because Lacy was too nervous to step outside her door. She would have to ask.

That wasn’t something Blair had a problem with. She liked to ask questions especially. Although, she enjoyed deducing directions and instructions rather than simply being given the answer. The clerk barely registered her inquiry for assistance before pressing down on a slim button and calling for assistance herself. Less than a minute later, another clerk emerged from the back with far more energy than the dangling tree limb of a person barely hanging onto the counter. At least there wasn’t a stiff breeze.

She shrugged off the infectious lethargy and began by explaining her family was vacationing here and they needed some clothes for her sister because they had been invited to a country club with short notice. Alas, the clerk was nowhere near the demographic for knowing the dress code of a country club, but Blair was able to relay the critical points. They tossed ideas at one another. Was there a mannequin with the rough dimensions of her sibling? Blair crouched slightly and used her arms to illustrate her sister. Did she have a photograph of her? She put on a bit of sheepishness and wielded the explanation that she’d gotten rid of a lot of the photos by accident to recover storage because of a long recording. But she could call.

After confirming that she arrived at the store safely, Blair explained the situation and braced her mother for the prospect of Lacy having to stand in front of a camera without losing her shit. Mom sighed through the speaker and took a moment but assured Blair that she would figure this out. Meanwhile, Blair pivoted to asking the clerk about some stuff that she might be able to get. She needed similar. It was easy to track down some khaki shorts along with a collared polo.

Learning her size in women’s clothes was such a small discovery, yet it landed with the apocalyptic heat of a dinosaur day wrecking comet. It combined with the double whammy of getting her precise bra size. The comparison of one number to another, so simple. But the intimidating letter associated with those numbers went shockingly deep into the alphabet. She was at the threshold of what they actually carried in stock without special orders.

However, she learned things that it didn’t feel like her mom really understood or wanted to acknowledge. Blair knew that mom had difficulty growing up with grandpa and feeling like she needed to teach herself and deal with everything on her own. What Blair learned was that there were so many more bras and bra-like things out there than she could’ve ever imagined in her male life.

She fixated the most on the t-shirt/undershirt stylings of universal comfort tops. The difference appeared to be between getting something tailored or in a very specific style versus just grabbing something that said all sizes or small, medium, or large. It lifted a veil of mystery. Not that she was ever particularly wrapped up in bra mysteries, but now she had to be.

The difference between just something to throw on to get over here versus a generic top versus something specifically for her felt like comparing slapping meat on bread, a decent diner meal, and the perfect home-cooked entrée as a labor of love from dad.

She had to at least have one of each. Wearing out the best of what she acquired made her feel both nervous and relaxed in mind-spinning ways. It was good to get some preparation and practice with wearing this before getting thrown into the infestation of perverts that glommed onto grandpa’s money.

The ease of shopping addiction occurred to her as she realized from this foundation she wanted more stuff to try on and have. Stuff that gave her a certain look that might be interesting, brighter, more subdued, dark and relaxing, light and airy, shiny and soft, and then the varieties. Like swimsuits. It was the beach and the clothes she brought with her were useless.

The very helpful clerk was at a loss for how to deal with Blair‘s proportions. Once again, there were far more prospects than Blair imagined, especially with tops that came in from the sides. The key problem was her mom would lose her mind with how much flesh it left uncovered.

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As a vague notion, she wished that the rock could be touched by an outfit either worn or by itself and shift and transform that into something that fits perfectly. Although, the rock had only made contact with hands, as far as she could remember. It was possible, when she surreptitiously decided to take the plunge, that it touched her clothing at some point. Unfortunately, she wasn’t paying attention. An interesting prospect for experimentation, she mused.

As far as finding a decent swimsuit, she did eventually settle on a matte black number with white trim. It was a little on the snug side, especially up top, but the leg and thigh coverage was definitely in the range that mom wouldn’t yell at her. The bottom bit of the one-piece felt all kinds of wrong to Blair’s clothing sensibilities though. There should’ve been different contours, along with a vastly different feel. Everything that should’ve been secret felt far too exposed.

At the same time, wearing it tickled so many places in her brain. Not trying to sink into a weird sort of narcissism, she did take a photo with her phone while smiling in the mirror. That one photo was followed by several others from different angles and poses. It was fortunate her particular cloud on the phone wasn’t synced with the family plan because of the trip.

By the end, she wasn’t sure if she would keep the thirtyish pics she took of this particular outfit, but she didn’t regret taking them. Switching over to the country club clothes, she soon received a photo from mom that brought her to giggling tears.

The photo contained Lacy wearing essentially the same expression as the old neighbor cat when young Lacy put together a scheme to get revenge on the sour kitty who always scared him off the sidewalk with outstretched claws and harsh hisses. Lacy found where the cat often rested under a bush and dumped an entire bucket of ice water from the fridge over the cat.

One could tell the irate feline wished nothing but painful death upon everyone who witnessed it, especially the perpetrator. The flying ball of furious fur nearly took a chunk out of Lacy‘s leg before its owner dragged it inside. It became an indoor cat after that, but still scowled and threatened everyone who passed by. Wherever that darn cat wound up in Cat Hell, it was probably howling at the photos Lacy had to take.

The first one miraculously contained Lacy without the protective robe but with wide-eyed alarm. After that, the robe was back, but Lacy expressed smoldering fury in every curl of her brow and clinch of her mouth. Blair was curious about the backstory but swiftly texted her appreciation. The last photo just contained snaps of a handwritten sheet, clearly composed by dad from the cleanliness of the script, with plenty of information updating the hasty, scribbled data mom collected before.

Blair could tell that the clerk had plenty of questions about the context of the photos but did her best to ignore that and compare what they had with the information. It turned out the first draft wasn’t especially far off and just one quick swap allowed sizes that she was confident would work. As a gift along with the band, Blair not only got one of those tee shirt standard bra equivalents but also a Jackson Pollock-inspired swimsuit with vinyl screening and the words “BOYS ROCK”.

In her brain, she knew that getting something cool without the text would’ve had a better chance of being accepted by her sister but, in her brotherly heart, she couldn’t resist imagining what Lacy‘s reaction would be.

It was a bit more money than she really wanted to spend for a silly joke, but it had quality material and modesty around the legs like hers. That, along with everything else she added on, took a huge chunk of her vacation spending money from part-time work last spring break. She made absolutely sure she kept the receipt on her person and carefully tested the durability of the material, in case Lacy freaked out and attempted to attack it with more than just some pillow chucking. They gave her tissue paper and a nice little box for presentation as she recovered her stick. 

Outside, the crowds had not abated. If anything, they had thickened, with hordes of people slowly ambling from one shop to the next. It was slower to get back to the green areas and the sand but being amongst so many helped her feel anonymous again. Just one teen girl crossed, passed, and circled around by so many others in their little groups and clusters. She had no idea how to fit in amongst them, if this was her life now.

Cynthia and some of the other girls she knew could probably settle the basic foundations, like everything she was probably doing wrong with her voice, her body language, and so many other things she had no idea about. A whole other life basically rebooted from scratch. While terrifying, it also fascinated her.

She had no overriding desire to be a girl, not like Riley. She lived near Cynthia and liked to go camping and exploring all the time. Riley was transitioning, as they roughly explained it in a letter to parents. Mom felt puzzled why any boy would choose to become a girl but wanted to welcome her. Fortunately, aside from a callous few, everyone welcomed Riley. She had an amazing, carefully practiced voice and a look all her own. Blair learned so much from what she taught him about how voices were expressed but he never really got around to putting it into practice, as with so many other things in his life. He had a crush on Riley which felt different than any of the other girls in school he felt for. He never said anything though, to anyone, especially Riley.

Then, at the end of last year, she just moved away without explanation. Cynthia said it was because of work issues with her parents and painful anxiety problems unrelated to everything else. It really hurt that she didn’t say anything to him before leaving. She stayed with him, in his thoughts. He knew it was dumb, but he still wished he’d been better and done better for her sake. The same with how this day started with one uncertain sister and then a second totally broken. She was not going to let either of them go alone and sad, for any reason. No matter what it took. What was one more stupid, ill-conceived idea from her? She gave a thoughtful snort and finally freed herself and her stick from the oppressive crowds to amble with her purchases across whatever sliver of beach wasn’t locked off by warning signs. 

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