Two women in their thirties are standing in a small boutique in Kahala called @Boutique. Tasha is the owner of the store, and the other woman is her old friend Julia. Tasha has stepped out from behind the counter and the two women are shopping for themselves. With their conflicting schedules, it is the only way the two of them can shop together.
Her friend, Tasha smiles, squints her eyes at the cardigan, then shakes her head. "Not your color," then adds. "I have all the time in the world. Maybe too much time. Different problem."
Julia picks up a yellow cardigan. "How's this?"
"No. Maybe it's the cardigan itself."
"Ok. Let's move on." The two women move to the rear section of the boutique. Julia laughs and says "I can't believe I'm shopping for myself. I'm supposed to be shopping for Tyler's boss's son. Screw it."
"Well I'm shopping for me and this is my store!" says Tasha. "Who the heck is that little runt anyway? Just buy em a little race car and be done with it. You gotta put yourself first once in a while." Tasha eyes a white blouse with a constellation of eyelets along it's fringes. "What do you call those. The good sons of bosses? Is there a term? Like nephew? Niece? Boss's son?"
"I just call em the little S-O-B. Son of a boss," says Julia.
Tasha laughs. "Do you like this?" she asks, holding the white blouse up by the hook of the hanger.
"Pretty."
Tasha turns to a mirror and holds it out in front of her. "My skin color is too dark for this. I wish my skin were lighter, like yours. You have pretty, fair skin."
"Don't be silly," says Julia. "I hate my complexion. So mottled. Like an octopus." She flips through the hangers and they squeak against the rack. "It's funny, how time is compressed for me and how you say it's so dilated for you. I mean, you're a business owner! Still, we live along different timelines. It's like astronauts being sent out to the farthest reaches of our solar system. They boomerang and come back and it only takes em, what, four years. For people on earth, it's fifty. I feel like the next time we see each other, I'll be an old woman, and you'll look just the same."
"They say time moves a split second faster at the top of the empire state building," says Tasha.
"Time moves a split second faster in my 12th story apartment. Christmas is around the corner, and I'm not talking this Christmas, I'm talking the next."
Tasha laughs. "The grass is always greener on the other side of the clothing rack. At least you're married. You have two great little boys. How old are they now, nine and ten?"
"Eight and ten."
"And you're still young enough to run around with them. By the time I get married and have kids I'll be too tired to do anything. I may not even have kids. I may not even find anyone that I'd want to settle down with!" She places the blouse back onto the rack. "I don't like the capped sleeves."
Julia shrugs. "Don't get me wrong. I'm happy. But I wish I could still look forward to some of the things I never got to. Now, for me, it's like, easier to forget about it. Or I'll just get depressed," she says. She is now onto a teal, peasant tunic.
Tasha absent-mindedly picks up the same tunic. "I mean, it's all about the have and have not's. I'm trapped in this extended adolescence – my mom's words. I'm not complaining. But my mom is always at my throat to settle down. She says her generation wasn't like that. That our generation is too self-centered, too self absorbed, that we feel entitled to have it all. That I won't realize it until it's too late."
"Don't listen to her," says Julia. "Enjoy yourself," she adds, a touch ruefully. "Do the things you want to do. I wish I had. I never had that period of... what... self discovery. I never traveled the world. Never... well. Look at you. You went back to school. Your business is taking off. I never even figured out what I wanted to do with my life. I just work a plain job I could care less about. I work, go home, cook rice... and pau."
"But that's great!" Says Tasha. "Nothing wrong with that. I know it's a cliche to say this, but we gotta stop focusing on the things we don't have."
"What about that skirt? You don't have that," says Julia.
"That's nice. Too bad I have the legs of an ostrich."
"No you don't! What does that even mean?"
Tasha eyes the skirt for a while. She runs her fingers along its delicate ruffles running diagonally along the front. "Maybe I will buy this for myself," she says.
"I'm thinking of leaving Tyler and the boys," says Julia, abruptly.
"What?" Tasha drops the skirt, picks it up, dusts it off and places it back on the rack. "What happened? You're not serious. Are you serious? No way."
"I want it all back. My life. I'm still young enough to have a remainder of a youth."
"You do have a youth, stupid! You're in it right now. Don't do it. Julia. Seriously. You'll ruin everything. You'll regret it. I promise you. How can you even consider that?"
Julia picks up the skirt. "Okay, I won't. But that means I get to buy the skirt."
Tasha clenches her jaw and holds her hands open at Julia's throat. "I wanna choke you. You scared me! Were you serious? Jesus."
"Tasha. This adds a whole new meaning to the term shop therapy. I love this store. I could spend hours, even days here. Time always just floats by when I'm perusing. I hope it's the same for all your customers. You'll do really well for yourself. I hope this all just takes off and you expand and open up more shops... This is just really inspiring. I'm in awe. Really," says Julia.
"Okay stop stroking my feathers. My only best customer. I wish I could just close down the store and go with you."
"I know, me too," Julia looks at her watch. "But, I'd better get going. I gotta pick up the kids in half an hour. Then Tyler gets home and we have to go to that stupid S-O-B's birthday party. I hate to run. But I'll take the skirt."
"Take it. It's yours!"
"I can't do that. Don't be silly. Here. Run my card."
Tasha runs her card, and places the skirt in a bright red paper bag. "Thank you, come again," she smiles.
They hug and kiss and Julia leaves the boutique. The store is empty after she leaves and Tasha begins organizing her latest shipment. Two minutes later, her iphone is ringing. She picks it up and looks at who is calling. She is on the verge of answering. She bites her lower lip and puts the phone back down and looks outside. Quickly, she locks up and runs out into the parking lot.
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