Refund by Karen E. Bender Page A

through fancy clubs, but as she rushed past the crowded tables, the patrons’ faces bloomed up, monstrous, unknown.
    It was three weeks before she saw Evelyn again, at the palisades overlooking the Santa Monica beach. Evelyn walked toward Ginger with a curious lightness in her step. She covered her mouth when she laughed. She flicked her wrist at the end of a sentence, as though trying to toss away her words.
    â€œHe loves my hair,” Evelyn said. “He loves my laugh. Listen.”
    The sound made Ginger cold. It was difficult to stand straight; the ground was rising like slow, heavy waves.
    â€œYou look well. I have to go,” said Evelyn. She backed up, as though fearful that Ginger would grab onto her. Then she stopped and pulled a small red purse from her pocket. “Here,” said Evelyn. “It has two hundred dollars.”
    â€œNo,” said Ginger, stepping back.
    She felt her sister shove the purse into her hands and press her fingers around it. “Just take it.”
    Evelyn quickly ran toward the bus stop. Ginger understood that this would be the last time they saw each other. It would be Ginger’s own decision to move and not tell her sister where she was going. She sat down for a long time after the bus had pulled off, eyes closed, imagining that the wide blue sky, the gray elephantine palms would be gone when she opened them. When she looked again, the world was still there; Ginger left the purse on the bench and started walking.
    T HE NEXT MORNING, WHEN SHE WOKE UP, SHE DID NOT REMEMBER how the crowd had buffeted her like an ocean, how she had finally found a man in a maroon uniform who helped her find her room, but her legs were weak, as though she’d walked a great distance, and her mouth was dry from calling out Darlene’s name.
    She knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to buy a present for Darlene. She wanted to do this simple action: go into a store, select a gift for her, buy it, and give it to her. That was all. She imagined the expression on Darlene’s face, her surprise at being given a present; she imagined Darlene’s happiness blooming, slowly, in herself. Ginger stood up, wearing the same dress she had the night before, faint with the scent of smoke and alcohol, and walked slowly to the gift shop.
    There she stood, surrounded by the store’s offerings: the butterfly-sequined blouses, the porcelain statues of grizzly bears and leaping salmon and deer, the authentic replica Eskimo fur hats, the jars of glacier-blue rock candy.
    â€œMay I help you?” the girl at the counter asked.
    What would Darlene like? She scanned the glass case of jewelry; there were snowflakes and bears and seals, turquoise and silver and garnet and gold; Ginger selected a large opal set in a gold snow-flake. Its price was $300.
    â€œBeautiful taste,” the salesgirl said.
    â€œHey,” said a voice. It was Darlene. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
    The girl stood before her. Ginger put down the brooch.
    â€œAre you all right?” asked Darlene. “Who’s that for?”
    Ginger looked at her. “You,” she said.
    â€œThat will be $315.73,” said the salesgirl.
    Ginger put her hand into the red velvet purse. There was nothing in it but the silk lining. She shook out her purse. Now she had $1.37.
    â€œI have no money,” she said, softly.
    â€œIs it in your room?” the salesgirl asked.
    â€œThis is all I have,” Ginger said.
    She pushed her hand deep into the purse, feeling its emptiness. Her coins fell onto the floor. “You don’t have to buy me anything,” said Darlene.
    The lights were extremely bright, as though someone had turned them on all at once.
    â€œI want to buy it,” said Ginger. “Don’t you understand? I want to.”
    She stood, swaying a little, aggravated that Darlene did not recognize what she was trying to do. Darlene squinted at her, and Ginger wondered