The Afterwards

As silly as it might seem, I felt as if I had come home; into my own. I had been in the thrift store for almost an hour, moving slowly among the closely filled racks of clothing, the uneven stacks of tapes, the slanted records, the semi-neat books, and the randomly arranged knickknacks. I was very peaceful, and the volunteers moved among the narrow aisles, never bothering me, sometimes glancing at me. I had my arms full; mostly with records, but also with a skirt and a Sinead O'Connor tape and I clock that I would be dismantling. I had used up all the time I could looking over everything carefully, twice, exchanging my records for others, and looking at the pictures of the sponsored children hung on what little wall space there was, but I knew it was time for me to go.

The bell over the door chimed and a two boys, perhaps twelve, and an older girl came in. I walked past them, not paying too much attention, and released my load onto the counter. I stood, waiting for a volunteer to come, content not to ring the bell or ask for help, but just bide my time. I half-noticed that one of the boys was making strange noises, repeating a short "Aa' sound over and over.

As a volunteer rang up my purchases, the boy came over. His body gently brushed my arm; he stood too close to me. I turned, and he repeated his sound. I realized that he wasn't 'normal', and turned a bit stiff, but half-smiled at him anyways. He hovered at my elbow as I paid, and I kept half-smiling and half-ignoring him.

I was almost proud, and mostly ashamed, of my reaction; but had no idea what it ought to be.

I collected my bags and turned to go, and he laid a hand gently on my arm.

I'm not sure I ever felt more loved in my life.

I'm not sure I've ever spent an hour better.

I'm not sure there could have been a better reaction.