Hope(less) (Judgement of the Six #1)

Searching for a parking spot at the shopping center, I probed, “You took a shower today, right?” I expected the harrumph he let out, but I had to be sure. “Do you know what size you wear? Shirt, pants, shoes?” Unhelpful, he continued to stare at me. Given what he’d worn when I first saw him, he probably didn’t know. Speeding into a parking spot, I slammed on the brakes. His good balance kept him from falling out of the seat. “Fine. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”


Trying to remember how he looked as a man, I scoured the sales racks, guessing at sizes and trying to stick with safe clothes. I bought him some essentials, a linen pant and shirt set, and the largest brown foam bottomed sandals I could find. I could always cut the foam down to size.

Shopping in a clothing store on my own usually didn’t turn out well, but running from rack to rack like a crazy woman held most of the men I encountered at bay long enough to run past them. Panting for breath, I paid and ran out of the store.

Back in the car, with Clay staring at me, I tried to think where I could take him to get dressed. Somewhere he could walk in as a dog and out as a man. I couldn’t think of a single place that allowed dogs in changing areas. I’d just have to try to pull a fast one on Rachel. Putting the car in gear, I drove it as if I’d stolen it and made it to the house in record time.

Rachel, already dressed, stood at the door waiting for me with a stack of clothes in her arms. Her eyes searching the empty car behind me, she demanded, “Where’s the date? They are going to be here in fifteen minutes.”

“He’ll be here in a few minutes… I hope,” I said not looking at Clay. Waving for her to go first, she led the way back into the house. I paused to toss the bag of new clothes in the bathroom for Clay.

“Let’s go in my room and you can help me pick what to wear.” She’d already noticed the fact that liked my privacy and usually left me alone. So she perked up at the opportunity to dress me. Pulling her into my room with me, a sign of my desperation to get rid of Scott permanently, she failed to notice that Clay hadn’t followed us from the kitchen.

“I need something a little tropical, or hippie-ish,” I said as I closed the door and started to undress.

Rachel set the clothes on the bed, her expression filled with suspicion. “Who is this guy? Why do you need to dress like a hippie?”

“He’s a good friend and he didn’t much notice to go home to change. Because I’m cheap, I got him some clean clothes from the summer closeout racks. He’s got longish hair so I think he might look like a hippie in them.”

I spoke a little louder for his benefit, thinking he might hear me through the door. I wanted him to know why I purchased what I had. Rachel looked up at my sudden increase in volume. Clearly, my weirdness had just increased a level. I motioned to the pile of clothes, distracting her. She began rifling through them searching for something to fit my requirements.

Continuing my story, I said, “He was just behind me. I told him he could use our bathroom to change.”

“How good of a friend is he?” she asked.

“Well,” I smiled knowing Clay could hear, “we’ve slept together.”

She surprised me by not saying anything. Instead, she held up a few options. I picked a flowing, knee-length cream skirt with a light yellow, scoop-necked top and hurried to get dressed.

“You do know that the best way to look like you’ve been dating a long time would be too look like you don’t care how you look, right?” she asked.

I rolled my eyes at her and gave the skirt one last tug to straighten it, studying myself in the mirror with a critical eye. Dressing up was a gamble. It might send the wrong message to Scott even with Clay present. Maybe I should follow Rachel’s advice and dress down. Then Clay would look out of place in his clothes.

“That looks great on you,” Rachel complemented me, as she scooped up the rejects.

Worried Clay might need more time, I stalled by fixing my hair. I didn’t own any make up to apply.

“So what’s the guy’s name?” Rachel watched me closely.

“Clay,” I admitted reluctantly. Considering I’d asked a huge favor of him, I couldn’t lie about his name.

“Shut up...,” she laughed in disbelief, standing in the doorway with arms draped with clothes.

Holding up my hands in the mirror, I swore, “Not lying. He talks as much as the dog too. So don’t bother trying to make conversation.”

Figuring I pushed our time limit, I turned and let Rachel inspect me. She smiled her approval and dashed to her room to ditch the extra clothes. We crossed paths in the living room as she went to look out the picture window while I went looking for Clay.

The door to the bathroom remained firmly closed so I tapped on it and whispered, “Do you need help?”

Unfortunately, Rachel overheard and started sniggering behind me. Apparently, there was nothing to see out the window. I tried shooing her away with a wave but she shook her head leaning against the hallway wall to watch.

“Please hurry Clay,” I begged him yet again.