Pearls and Manners - Part 1

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Mia wore weary like a perfectly fitted dress, the kind worn by women who let life live them instead of living it. Fatigue lived in her face, heavy enough that her eyelids drooped into her vision. But today, she saw clearly. Today her copper eyes were round, dilated, and full of eagerness.

The day had come.

“How did I get here?” was the only thought that kept circling her mind.

She looked calm, but her cocoa-colored skin, which once glowed and bounced sunlight back like beams, had dulled. Still, no one could deny that she was beautiful. The sharp cheekbones that ran through her family made her look permanently tense. Her hair was tight and curly, dark as midnight. Her mama used to say it gave her “the blues” when she combed it, so Mia often wore it in braids. Her eyebrows were sparse and unruly, “just like you,” her friends would tease. Mia never cared much about what others thought of her; she cared too deeply about what she thought of herself. And today, that was devastating enough.

Her dress swayed in the harsh Mississippi wind, an all-white dress with laced crosses stitched along the hem, appropriate for the occasion. The tall grass and dirt road felt calming against her bare feet as she walked toward Mr. Reynolds’ shop, wiping the tears from her face.

She wasn’t buying the garment for herself, and that truth sat heavier than the heat on her back.

Mr. Reynolds was a war veteran who owned a store called the Old Store. It was a red barn on the side of the road, selling antiques and things no one wanted or needed anymore. No one ever knew his age, but from his silver hair to his fragile body, it was obvious he had lived a long life. On stormy nights, he sometimes screamed in his sleep, like the other men, but folks ignored it. They said he hadn’t been right since his Wakening, that the terrors were normal. His wife had died a couple of years back. Everyone missed her, especially Mia. She’d been a mother figure to so many. People whispered that it wouldn’t be long before he followed, but whenever asked how he was doing, Mr. Reynolds would smile and say, “This train just keeps on rolling.”

Mia took a deep breath before stepping inside the shop, preparing herself for the fight ahead. Like most men, Mr. Reynolds didn’t support the Wakening. But his shop was the only place in Bovina where Wakening garments could be bought, and the nearest alternative was forty-five minutes away. The lectures had grown stale.

“Hey, Mia, you know you look just like your mama, girl. Can you close that door? Don’t wanna let the bugs in. Folks’ll come in here screaming.” He chuckled. “I’m glad you stopped by. I just opened the store for the day, so you get the honor of being the first to see some things you won’t find anywhere else. This tie here came from North Korea. I wore it when I was honored for killing a bunch of-”

Mia cut him off. She didn’t have time for war stories today. It was getting late, and she knew the Wakers would be making their rounds soon.

“Mr. Reynolds, I’m in a rush now, and I need a red garment. There’s a Wakening at the square this afternoon.”

He froze, rubbing the back of his neck, studying her. Then he laughed, shaking his head.

“Damn. I tell you, it’s always the ones who act so high and mighty. I heard there was a Wakening today. I’m just surprised about your fella. But it seems like there’s a full tithe every month now. They’ll have to make them biweekly soon.” He chuckled. “I remember mine. Some folks gotta go through it more than once to learn. That monkey gets on your back, and it’s hard to shake him. I still slip sometimes, but you know, one day at a time. Your Aunt Rayna was a - ”

“Mr. Reynolds.” Mia’s voice was sharp. “Do you have a red garment, or am I walking another five miles?”

She didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t even understand how this had happened. Yesterday, she’d been happy. Today, she was submitting the love of her life to the Wakening.

A loud sigh escaped her as her mother’s voice echoed in her head.

“I done told you young gals, never let them get the milk without buying the cow.”

“Alright,” he grunted. “Like I always say, the customer is always right. Though I don’t think it’s right in this case.”

Mia rolled her eyes as he limped toward the back of the shop, still delivering the same speech he gave every woman who came through his door.

“Well, then why sell them at all?” she asked. “People would rather walk five more miles than hear all this.”

“Supply and demand, lil lady.” He smiled as he returned, holding the red garment. “And I like telling the boys at the café I tried to save ’em.”

The café sat a couple of houses down, a hole-in-the-wall bar where stories went to rot.

Mr. Reynolds had a way about him. No one left his shop without a smile, even on their worst days. Mia laughed despite herself, reminded of how her Aunt Rayna used to argue with him, then laugh just as hard. Maybe that was why she kept forgiving him.

He moved to the register and slid over a registration form.

“Do you swear that what you report here is true?” he asked.

“Yes,” Mia said, snatching the form. “I swear what I report is true, and that I have an address to confirm it.”

“Nah, I’ll be damned,” he laughed.

“You know what? This one’s on me. Your Aunt Rayna would’ve wanted that. Maybe it’ll straighten him out.  It didn’t with me, but it does with some folks. I gotta tell the boys at the café, you know, the other day he was just in here lecturing Lamar about how stupid he was for being submitted. I just don't understand- ”

Mia slammed the completed form onto the counter and grabbed the garment.

“I guess he fooled us both, huh? Thank you, Mr. Reynolds.”

She walked out the door, already rehearsing what she would say when she got home 

and untied him.