‘That young lady was the first person to ever affect any change in my behavior, other than Roger or Norman. She was the first person that made me want to be happy, without giving me anything. Roger at times makes me want to smile, but I feel that if I smile at Roger, something will go wrong, something that is suspended in our relationship will crash down or break. I do not feel that I should smile at Roger, the potential for misadventure in that action is too much. The feeling of joy her actions caused me to realize just how much I do feel.’

    Since that man took Roger towards the back of the store, I’ve been sitting here, waiting. Roger’s brown jacket lies across my lap, and my hands are folded on top of it. There are only a few other people in the store, so I am staring at my hands. They are fascinating, in some basic way.

    I hear a salesclerk make a noise and turn my attention to her.

    “What is it?”

    “Is there anything I can help you with, Miss?”

    “I am waiting for someone.”

    “Oh,” she starts to turn away.

    I consider.

    Tedious work, stand up. Hold still. Arms this way, chest out, arms that way… even Dorothy must be more amused than I am right now. I wonder if she’s all right out there. I probably shouldn’t have left her out there like that. She’s bound to be bored…

    Bored?

    An android?

    I must be loosing it.

    “All black?”

    “Yes. It must be in black.”

    “Couldn’t you even… wear a white shirt?”

    That gives me pause. “Yes, that is acceptable. Everything else must be black.”

    Single-minded concentration. If a human is to understand the stipulations of ‘all black’ I must be persistent. Getting Roger’s tie for Heaven’s Day was hard enough; an entire outfit will be slightly harder.

    “What sort of style are you looking for?” she asks. “We have beautiful sundresses.”

    “Something that looks professional.”

    She seems to consider before leading me towards the west end of the store. She pulls out a hanger. “How is this?” Dorothy inspects the garment, running her synthetic fingers over the material of first the vest, and then the skirt.

    “Do you have a different skirt? This one is too tight.”

    “Oh, one moment.” I wait patiently.

    The outfit comes with a sleek jacket and a white-sleeved shirt to wear underneath the vest. She returns with another hanger, which holds a looser skirt. This outfit will look different on me than what I’ve worn before, possibly more grown up. I wonder what Roger will say when he sees me in it.

    “How is this?”

    “Perfect,” I reply.

    Why am I bothering to buy clothing? The outfit I have is sufficient. That Angel woman dresses like this. I do not want to be her, but the way Roger looks at her… perhaps a little change will do me some good. “What size is it in?”

    “This one is in a size five.”

    “Oh, I wear a size three.”

    She motions me after her towards a small island service center. I follow, Roger’s coat still over my arm. “Let me check.”

    I stand patiently waiting. She has the hangers with her on the desk near some papers that detail the inventory of clothing and sizes. I hear Roger grumbling about something in his fitting room, but chose to ignore it in order to see if I can get this new outfit. I want to.

    “We should have that size… but I didn’t see it on the rack.”

    “If it is an inconvenience…”

    “If you’d like to order it, Miss, we can have it in by Thursday.” I contemplate.

    “The gentleman I entered the store with is being fitted for a new coat. Could the two items be picked up at the same time?”

    “Yes, Henri should have the jacket done by then, as well.”

    “Then I will take this outfit.”

    “All right,” her voice is pleasant. I wish my voice was that pleasant, but I have nothing to be pleasant about. Or at least I didn’t, before.

    She begins to fill out several cards, outlining the size and the model and color of each piece. “So you’ll want the white shirt? It comes in black…”

    “The white one will do fine, thank you,” and there it is, the pleasant tone, I have achieved it in my own voice. I feel… joyful…

    “Ok, and the a-line skirt…” she mutters while filling out the forms. She reaches the final page… the bill, and looks up at me. “How will you be paying?”

    I retrieve the card Norman had made for me, a ‘credit card’ that I was instructed by Roger to use for any purchases I would need to make. I fish it out of the pocket in my skirt and hand it to her.

    She punches in a few numbers and I hear Roger leave the room and come up to the island with his own garment’s card. She hands me back my ‘credit card’ and I put it back in my pocket.

    He comes up behind me and makes a little cough, as though trying not to startle me. “Are you finally ready, Roger?” I ask, stepping aside and allowing him access to the counter.

    “Yes, the proper model has been chosen, and the measurements have been taken. What were you up to while I was being taped?”

    “Being taped?”

    He raises his brows at that question, having forgotten I know little of this slang he uses sometimes.

    “Uh…” I offer him his coat before turning and receiving the pick-up slips.

    “You can pick it up on Thursday,” the woman smiles at me kindly and winks.

    “Thank you,” I reply with a similar movement of my eye. I am glad she did not say anything to Roger about this. I like her. “I will do so.”

    He takes the coat from my arm and nods to the young woman, who seems to recognize him, but the only change in her expression is a slight widening of her eyes. She is very nice. Roger looks like he wishes to remain and talk to her, so I begin my way out of the store.

    “Dorothy!” he comes chasing after me.

    “Yes, Roger Smith?”

    When did she start calling me that, again? “Why’d you start off like that? I didn’t even have my coat on,” she is staring straight ahead as she steps onto the escalator.

    “You appeared to want to speak with her in private, Roger, so I was giving you some privacy.”

    Sure, you probably heard me when I was in the fitting room. “Dorothy, I…”

    She tightens the belt around her waist and continues moving forward. It is poetry to watch her move. I take the few steps down to stand next to her. “You what, Roger?” her voice sounds… different.

    Pleased, almost.

    “I’m sorry I left you alone like that.”

    “It is all right, Roger,” and… she means it.

***