the state. The world! I could become a one-woman Good Manners police force and blow my whistle whenever I spotted an infraction. Especially if it involved rudeness to some older person.
I could become so unconventional and flamboyant I couldn’t possibly be invisible!
Yes. But . . .
I slumped back in the chair. Defeat washed over me. I might have some teensy leanings toward eccentricity. Perhaps a few quirks here and there. But I could never go the full route. Magnolia Margollin’s flamboyancy came naturally to her. But it just wasn’t in me. Even in younger years, I’d been small and quiet, not all that noticeable.
Apparently I had no choice, then, but to let the inevitable invisibility engulf me. I’ll probably get used to it, I decided sadly. It might even have certain compensations. I could eavesdrop on conversations without being noticed. Wander stores without being pestered by overeager clerks. Go back a dozen times for some especially good sample being handed out at the supermarket.
* * *
Next day as I walked into the bank, the thought occurred to me that invisibility might even have a practical usefulness. Boldly testing this theory, I slid into the middle of the line rather than going to the end. No one noticed. The man behind me continued studying his bank statement. The young woman ahead gave an absentminded glance over my head and went back to appraising a good-looking bank teller.
Hey, how about this? All right!
I could probably use invisibility for even more nefarious purposes, it occurred to me as the line inched forward. Who’d see me if I walked into a movie theater without paying? Or I could drift into fancy get-togethers I hadn’t been invited to—weddings would be good—and stuff myself with caviar canapés and shrimp on toothpicks.
Invisibility opened like a doorway into a spectacular new world.
I could shoplift whole jars of caviar and no one would notice! Treat myself to filet mignon and lobster tails from the meat counter. Pick pockets and melt away like a ghost. Rob banks, and no one would remember what I looked like. Smuggle jewels across international borders.
But that was a glittery world, I had to acknowledge only moments later, that I could never enter. Because even now guilt prickled me for grabbing this unwarranted place in line. With a sigh, I ducked out of the queue and circled around to the end, where I should have gone in the first place.
Flamboyancy was not in my makeup. Neither was a bent toward criminality. What was left? Only that inevitable dimming toward invisibility.
* * *
Yet at 2:24 a.m.—I know the exact time because I looked at the red numbers on the digital clock above the bed—I woke with a fantastic revelation.
This newfound invisibility wasn’t a curse of advancing years; it was a gift. A marvelous gift.
And I knew exactly how I was going to use it.
7
I planned carefully the following day. Black slacks, dark blouse, the stained sneakers I always wore for gardening. I didn’t have dark socks, so I’d just go without. Isn’t that what the kids did these days?
In the midst of my preparations, however, I paused to consider. If I’m invisible, why all this camouflage?
Because I’m basically a prudent person, and a prudent person, even an invisible one, doesn’t take unnecessary chances. Besides, I was new at working this invisibility thing.
I laid out a dark scarf to cover my hair. Took off the diamond-chip earrings I always wore, a gift from Harley on our twenty-fifth anniversary. Starlight might glint on them. I was concerned about starlight also revealing my glasses, but that couldn’t be helped. Without them I couldn’t tell a vandal from a tombstone.
Just before dinner, I tried everything on. Great! A black cat had nothing on me. Except for those shoes . . .
I frowned at my reflection in the full-length mirror on the closet door. Even dirty, the once-white sneakers stood out like a pair of untanned legs at the beach.
I was on the
I could become so unconventional and flamboyant I couldn’t possibly be invisible!
Yes. But . . .
I slumped back in the chair. Defeat washed over me. I might have some teensy leanings toward eccentricity. Perhaps a few quirks here and there. But I could never go the full route. Magnolia Margollin’s flamboyancy came naturally to her. But it just wasn’t in me. Even in younger years, I’d been small and quiet, not all that noticeable.
Apparently I had no choice, then, but to let the inevitable invisibility engulf me. I’ll probably get used to it, I decided sadly. It might even have certain compensations. I could eavesdrop on conversations without being noticed. Wander stores without being pestered by overeager clerks. Go back a dozen times for some especially good sample being handed out at the supermarket.
* * *
Next day as I walked into the bank, the thought occurred to me that invisibility might even have a practical usefulness. Boldly testing this theory, I slid into the middle of the line rather than going to the end. No one noticed. The man behind me continued studying his bank statement. The young woman ahead gave an absentminded glance over my head and went back to appraising a good-looking bank teller.
Hey, how about this? All right!
I could probably use invisibility for even more nefarious purposes, it occurred to me as the line inched forward. Who’d see me if I walked into a movie theater without paying? Or I could drift into fancy get-togethers I hadn’t been invited to—weddings would be good—and stuff myself with caviar canapés and shrimp on toothpicks.
Invisibility opened like a doorway into a spectacular new world.
I could shoplift whole jars of caviar and no one would notice! Treat myself to filet mignon and lobster tails from the meat counter. Pick pockets and melt away like a ghost. Rob banks, and no one would remember what I looked like. Smuggle jewels across international borders.
But that was a glittery world, I had to acknowledge only moments later, that I could never enter. Because even now guilt prickled me for grabbing this unwarranted place in line. With a sigh, I ducked out of the queue and circled around to the end, where I should have gone in the first place.
Flamboyancy was not in my makeup. Neither was a bent toward criminality. What was left? Only that inevitable dimming toward invisibility.
* * *
Yet at 2:24 a.m.—I know the exact time because I looked at the red numbers on the digital clock above the bed—I woke with a fantastic revelation.
This newfound invisibility wasn’t a curse of advancing years; it was a gift. A marvelous gift.
And I knew exactly how I was going to use it.
7
I planned carefully the following day. Black slacks, dark blouse, the stained sneakers I always wore for gardening. I didn’t have dark socks, so I’d just go without. Isn’t that what the kids did these days?
In the midst of my preparations, however, I paused to consider. If I’m invisible, why all this camouflage?
Because I’m basically a prudent person, and a prudent person, even an invisible one, doesn’t take unnecessary chances. Besides, I was new at working this invisibility thing.
I laid out a dark scarf to cover my hair. Took off the diamond-chip earrings I always wore, a gift from Harley on our twenty-fifth anniversary. Starlight might glint on them. I was concerned about starlight also revealing my glasses, but that couldn’t be helped. Without them I couldn’t tell a vandal from a tombstone.
Just before dinner, I tried everything on. Great! A black cat had nothing on me. Except for those shoes . . .
I frowned at my reflection in the full-length mirror on the closet door. Even dirty, the once-white sneakers stood out like a pair of untanned legs at the beach.
I was on the
Similar Books
