She'll Take It by Mary Carter Page A

grandmother’s nudge, a young boy whips the scarf out of the cart and hands it to me with a shy smile.
    â€œThank you,” I whisper. “Thank you.”
    The woman with the cart leans down and blasts me with the smell of stale cigarettes. “You little bitch,” she says, but we both know I’ve won.
    I remain on the floor with my prized scarf, assuring everyone that I’m fine, I can walk, thank you, and if it’s all the same I would just like to get home and wrap the scarf for my dear estranged mom. They help me to my feet, pat me on the back, and slowly depart as I whip out my cell phone whispering, “I’m calling my mom.” Some of the old ladies don’t want to move on. They’re standing around and staring at me, expecting an encore. I point south and yell, “Look, seventy-five percent off!” then resume my fake conversation with my mother as I hobble away in the opposite direction. But even a hobble is more than I can bear.
    Ow, ow, ow, ow. Pain, pain, pain, pain, pain. I beam a prayer to the Saint of Cripples . Please, please just get me the fuck out of here. I look at the clock. 8:53. Oh God. I look at the line. It’s all the way back to the women’s restroom. I will never make it in time. This is it. This is the true test of my resolve. I have three choices:
    A)I leave now without the scarf, grab a cab, and show up at Parks and Landon in my stained sweater. Trina will tell Jane that I showed up looking like a filthy pig, and I’ll be fired.
    B)I stand in line to pay for the scarf and show up at Parks and Landon looking gorgeous in my scarf and sweater, but I’m an hour late. Trina tells Jane I’m a slacker who couldn’t be punctual even if I had Father Time tattooed on my ass, and I’ll be fired.
    C)For the sake of my career, I steal the scarf.
    Wait just a minute. Wait just a darn minute. I don’t steal the scarf. I just borrow it for a while. Then, after work, I return it. I promise, I promise, I promise, I whisper to the Saints.
    Sometimes, the best way to steal something is to hide it in plain view. I place the scarf around my neck and arrange it so that it covers the stain. I was right. It’s a perfect match. So far I’m not breaking any laws. So far I am simply trying on the merchandise. And there is no law against trying on merchandise, now is there? In fact, legally speaking, the store has to see you remove the object from its location and wait until you’ve actually left the premises without paying for it before they can approach you. There have been a few times when I’ve had to drop the merchandise before leaving because I knew I was being tailed.
    But there’s so much chaos here today that I’m home free. The scarf doesn’t even have a sensor on it; they save those for the big-ticket items, like the leather coats. Now I’m simply walking toward the door. Nobody is paying any attention to me. I set my eyes on the door and walk with purpose. I spot a bedraggled sales associate trying to fold a pile of clothes. Each time she succeeds in straightening them, someone comes along and whips one out from the bottom of the stack.
    â€œExcuse me,” I say. “What time do you close?”
    She doesn’t even look me in the eye. “Six,” she wails.
    â€œThank you.” Perfect. My day ends at five. I’ll have plenty of time to return my borrowed scarf.
    By the time I’m outside, my heart is pounding against my chest like aliens beating at the door. I’m a little surprised that I’m still getting the high—given that I’m just borrowing the scarf and all. But it’s there. I feel on top of the world. I want to jump up and down and shout, “I’m alive, I’m alive!” but I can barely step on my ankle, let alone jump. Then the laughter descends. I bend over, grab my knees, and howl with laughter. I bend back the other direction and snort and