At The Mall with Mom

 I knew there wasn’t much time when I heard Lady Gaga blasting from the store speakers.

           “Why do they have it so loud?” My mom moaned, “Where’s the manager? They have to turn this down.” She went looking for the sound patrol while I hurried to the racks of dresses. I quickly chose three, wishing there weren’t so many pastels. I mean really, who wears yellow to the winter formal? After my third trip to the racks I was surprised my Mom wasn’t calling my name through the store, that’s what  usually happens when she loses sight of me, like I would get lost or stolen. I told her no one would be able to kidnap me at sixteen and I hardly ever get lost anymore, but she wasn’t satisfied.  All my friends go shopping without their moms, but not me, mine insists on tagging along,

           “I don’t want you hanging around the mall, it isn’t safe.”

          “But mom,” I plead, “I’ll be with Sally and Jane.”

          “Well, they can come along; we have plenty of room in the car.”

          “They don’t want to come along, they have their own car…everyone has their own car. No one goes shopping with their Mom.”

          “I know dear,” was always her reply.

          I quickly return the dresses and grab three more. My luck is holding, my mom is nowhere to be seen.  I decide on the black strapless knowing I would have to talk her into it, but was sure I could. As I was dressing, I could hear someone singing along with the music, “How embarrassing,” I mumbled as I handed the unwanted dresses to the sales girl. She gave me a thin smile and I tried to remember if I knew her.  I left the dressing room aware she was staring after me. I turned back and asked,

          “Do you go to my school?” She continued hanging up dresses and replied,

          “No.”

           Justin Bieber was blasting from the speakers with the same lady singing along,

          “Not bad,” I think, “She has a nice voice.” I glance around the store, now curious as to who is singing. I leave my dress at the counter; the cashier gives me the same thin smile I got from the girl in the changing room. I’m beginning to feel awkward. I turn away thinking,

           “I need to get out of here.” I decide to find my mom. As I walk to the back of the store I notice other customers looking around shaking their heads. I feel embarrassed for whoever is singing along with Justin.

           I turn left at the last rack of clothes and understand why I was getting weird looks from the sales girls, the singing customer was…my mom…she was singing and bouncing to the music as she looked at dresses. I’m so embarrassed I don’t know what to do. My mind is racing. I try and formulate an escape plan,

          “I’ll wait for her in the car,” is my first thought, “I’ll call and tell her I couldn’t find her or a dress so I went to the car.”

          But, I know if I leave the store I won’t get my dress. If I make her mad, I won’t get my dress. If I ignore her, I won’t get my dress. A small crowd gathers, including the cashier and the dressing room girl; we all just stand there staring at my mom, who is oblivious to anything but the music.  I’m hoping for a small earth quake or amnesia, anything to get me out of this. I would even settle for the mall catching on fire. My face is hot and I know my ears must be bright red.                                                        

          I hear someone behind me mutter,

          “Mother’s are so weird.” And I know this is true, mother’s are, but for some reason this comment makes me mad. Its one thing for me to be embarrassed by my mom, but no one can be embarrassed for me. I’m filled with an unusual sensation and wonder if this is how my mom feels when someone has been mean to me or snubs me. I feel the need to defend her. I suddenly realize that no matter how angry I get with her, no matter how often she tells me no, in times of trouble she is always the first one at my side. I wish I had her carefree spirit, she doesn’t care that people are watching, it doesn’t even occur to her, she’s happy and singing along with the music. I feel proud that she’s so brave, I wish I wasn’t so concerned with what people think of me and more concerned with what I think of me.

          I’m still embarrassed, my ears are still red, but I want to be with my mom. I leave the side lines calling back over my shoulder to the audience,

          “Well, at least she knows all the words.”