We step out of the hot, white sun and follow our mother through the revolving doors into Simpsons. A blast of frigid air welcomes us. She struts along the wide aisle. “Keep up, girls!” she trills, her accent almost British, so different from the flat Canadian tone she uses at home.
She hadn’t planned on bringing us, but when my sister heard “shopping downtown,” she’d tantrummed. Facedown on the floor, she’d clenched mother’s ankles, above her new white platform sandals, flailed her legs, and howled herself hoarse. Our mother had tried to shake her loose, but Cecily dug in and clawed at her leg. Mother had checked her watch and relented. But that meant that I had to come too. To help mind Cecily and keep her under control.[Read more…] about Hot Pink