Mel-O-Drama

            by Wendy Ung

 

            My cell phone begins singing a symphony of trumpets and flutes. I groan, knowing this time, it is not the alarm. It's probably a call from Mel, one of my best friends. Today is our day to hang out which is the first in a long time. In the past, we had planned to go to San Francisco, but we never quite made time to go. Well, that's not true. It almost happened.  Mel got caught sneaking out at night before the planned San Francisco trip so it was canceled. She cancels our plans a lot which seems to be the main reason why I want this trip to go without any obstacle. I hope Mel is not calling to tell me that her mom will not let her out of the house because she snuck out the other night again or she has to baby sit her neighbors or her siblings. And I canceled once, using my trademark line, “I'm kind of tired...maybe next time?” When I need the time alone to be lazy. I would hate to have our long-awaited journey of shopping and gossip to never happen because of her bad behavior or my laziness.

            I throw the covers away from my body and slide off my bed. My foot hits the cold floor making me wish I could jump back into my covers and go fall asleep, but the phone is ringing. The light glows on the small screen of the cell phone and vibrates every four seconds on the fake mahogany table. I am just a few steps away when it ceases its ringing.

One missed call. Mel. I call her, but I suddenly realize I have no reception in my bedroom; only one out of the five bars stands. I shuffle into the bathroom and stand by the small screen window with my arms stretch out to the ceiling, imploring my cell phone to get a signal. 

Three bars up. Not bad. That should be enough to call Mel. The dial tone stops shortly after the second tone, replacing it with, "Hey! This is Mel. I can't get to the phone right now so call me later or leave a message after the beep." I hang up, discouraged, why isn’t she picking up? My phone starts ringing again; the screen reads ‘Mel’.

I answer it quickly, “Mel?”

"Hey! I called you like a minute ago," she says, then realizing the reason why I did not answer the phone at first. "I hope I didn't wake you up."

Compared to my tired state, Mel seems as if she's been up for hours. "No. No. It's fine. What's up? We're still on for SF?" I ask, hoping she is not going to bail on me.

"Of course. Why wouldn't we?" she asks, but she does not wait for an answer and continues, "So, when do you want to go?"

"Uh...I don't know. Like in half an hour?" I say in a questioning tone. 

"Call me when you get to the BART dome thingy. I can't wait Wendy!" Her voice gets high in excitement.

My voice matches hers, "Me too. I'll call you in a few. Bye." I close my phone, put it on the sink counter, and shut the bathroom door to change.

 

~ ~ ~

 

I stand in front of the round dome entrance to the BART station, bustling with people walking by, waiting for Mel to make her appearance. An old Asian man sits outside the entrance, playing his string instrument. The vile sound makes me cringe. I thought Mel would be here before I arrived, but it seems she is taking her sweet time to walk here. I decide to call her. Again, it goes straight to her voicemail; which shouldn't surprise me. Unlike me, she likes to keep her cell phone in her bag which can cause a lot of problems if she never picks up. I call her again, but out of the corner of my eye, I see her walking closely with her blue-eyed boyfriend, Dean. He nudges Mel, telling her I am waiting just a few feet away from her. 

She's a lanky girl, but she would joke about how fat her thighs are. Or she pretends that her stomach makes her look like she's pregnant. She has dyed her hair a mixture of colors from dark brown to a light brown. She looks good in her current honey brown.

She states, "You're here already. You two remember each other." Dean and I give each other a slight smile; it is our respectable way of acknowledging one another because Mel wants us to become friends. I personally do not see that happening. It’s not that I don't like him; it is just that I don’t know him at all. We hang out with different people and we don't share the same interest besides Mel. He seems very serious, like he doesn’t know how to laugh at life. Mel and I love to joke around. We like to make fun of each other in a playful way. We often poke fun at our friends and our ethnicities. No topic can make us upset at each other. That’s why I like Mel. If I joke around with my other friends, I’m never sure if they will take offense or respond back in an annoyed manner. With Mel, I know she will laugh it off and respond back to my teasing.

Dean mutters a few words to Mel and leaves quickly, not wanting to hear our gossip. I follow her eyes to Dean, who recedes from our vision, as she speaks, "I saw him when I was walking here. He's on his way to work. That's all."

"Well...he has gorgeous eyes," I say as she giggles at my comment as if she never hears me comment about her boyfriend's eyes before. "It's true." I respond. She is the first friend I can easily confide in because she understands me well. Most of all, I trust Mel completely. Whatever problems I encounter, I know she’s there to talk me through it. She does her best to make me laugh. She keeps my secrets and I know she will never reveal them unless she has my permission.

"I know. Why do you think I'm going out with him?" Not knowing if she's serious or not, I shake my head at her comment because it seems like she's stringing Dean along. She asks for my opinion about her relationship with Dean. I try my best to help her, but she never takes my advice.

Mel interrupts my drifting thought, "So, do you want to go to Walgreen's before we go to San Francisco?"

My mind screams, NOOO!  Instantly, my thoughts shift to the small incident a while back when we decided to go to Long Drugs during third period while a substitute took the place of our photography teacher for the day. I followed Mel into the store where she led me to the make-up aisle. She stated that she needed mascara and pulled me over to section where they hung. The mascara price read four dollars seventy-four cents and underneath the sign, it said 'Buy one, Get one free'. She crouched down beside me with the packaged mascara while I read the prices of each one, leaving me baffled at how expensive each one was. I turned my head to look down at Mel and saw her ripping the mascara from its package. What the hell? I nudged her with my foot, asking her what she was doing. Ignoring me, she cautiously placed it in a compartment of her tote bag and discarded the remnants of the package behind other make-up products on the shelves. We left immediately after we spotted a security guard standing next to our aisle. We started walking back to the school. I glared at Mel which she returned with a shrug. "What was that?" I asked.

"What was what?" she asked me as if she did nothing wrong. She reached into her tote bag, pulled out the mascara and a few other products I didn't noticed she had taken. "Look at what I got Wendy." She held the products out for me to see. Tossing one of the Kiss My Face Sunspray lotions to me, she said, "You can have this one." She held another one of the sunscreen, "I like how this one smells." She kept walking while I stood behind. She looked back, "What's wrong?"

I shook my head and said, "Don't ever do that around me again. You know how I get incredibly paranoid." I caught up to her, but I trudged past her towards the school. It was something I never wanted to witness again because of karma. I believed that whatever you did, there were consequences - good and bad. I did not want to be there when karma decided to teach Mel a lesson. I felt that karma may be after me because I didn't say anything when Mel was in the process of stealing.

 

Saying 'yes' to go to a drugstore is an invitation for Mel to steal. "Why do you want to go there?" She shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly. "Whatever you want to get there, we can get in San Francisco. Come on. I don't want to miss the BART. We have to buy our ticket too.”  

"Fine. Fine," she says, nodding her head. Stepping on the escalators, we make our descent into the main floor of the station, spotting people rustling by with their suitcases and a man, yelling about how insensitive people are at the BART station. After receiving our ticket, we avoid the charging BART riders and make our way to the underground level where the trains go by on their way to San Francisco.

 

~ ~ ~

 

The checkered floor leads me and Mel to the automatic entrance doors to the Westfield Mall. Movie and car advertisements on posters line the walls and are encased behind the glass cases. The door opens and reveals the lowest level of the mall - the food court. A sign sits at every entrance, 'No alcohol beyond this point'.  Bamboo plants separate the table area from the restaurants. People carry their food in red trays, looking for a free table space. They circle the area like hawks until they see a free table and move in for the kill. There are people, with bags in hand, coming down from the escalators from a long day of shopping to eat. Mel and I take the escalators up to begin shopping. When we reach the second floor, we walk straight to the mall directory. It intrigues me because it is so high-tech; nothing I have ever seen a directory look like before. There are touchable screen that one can press buttons to ask where certain stores are. I begin playing with it, typing various store names to see if the mall has them.

My whole attention is focus on the piece of technology in front of me. I tell Mel, "This is so fun. You should try it."

"I would if you would just step away from it," she replies, poking my shoulder lightly. "So? Are you done yet?" I shake my head while pressing the words for Adidas. My face smiles when it pops onto the screen.

"Wendy, since you are hogging the map, is there a Nordstrom here?" I begin typing ‘Nordstrom’. I am halfway done when I remember the only big department store at this mall is Bloomingdales.

I shake my head, "I think it's in the old mall, but I could be wrong."

"Well, let's go there and see." Mel says while pulling my hand away from fiddling with the directory. I follow her into the old mall, which has a very classic look - gold railings going all around the mall whereas the Westfield Mall is more modern with its black and white floors and its silver railings. We step on and off the spiraling escalators several times upwards.

"Where's Nordstrom?" she asks, confused, while glancing around to see where we are. I shrug my shoulder, how am I supposed to know? I'm not the old mall directory. Mel frowns and then sighs, "You know what...I don't want to go to Nordstrom anymore."

"What?" I exclaim. "Where do you want to go now?"

She shrugs her shoulder, "Let's go to one of those stores outside. Gap."

"Mel..." My voice whines. "You know that we took those escalators for no reason.”

"I know, but please? I know I dragged you all the way here, but I really want to Gap." She pleads. "Come on." She skips off towards the escalators.

 

~ ~ ~

 

The tall buildings loom above, reflecting the blue sky on their windows. Cars rush through the streets, screeching when they come to a halt. People with shopping bags make their way across to their next destination. Street entertainers perform their beat boxing and break dancing in front of a crowd of tourists. An old man stands on a wooden box next to a street sign, holding up a cardboard box that reads 'God is everywhere. Repent your sins now.' Former workers protest outside the mall with signs in hand. Mel and I make our way through the crowds of people crossing the street. We walk through the wide, open doors of Gap, inviting passersby to come in and look at their clothes.

Mel makes her way towards a creamy white blouse with white buttons and lifts it up from its folded state. "This is cute." She walks over to a mirror and puts it in front of herself, seeing if it looks right on her. "Does it look good on me?"

I look in the mirror and nod, "It looks cute on you Mel."

She smiles, "Thanks." She takes the blouse to a secluded area where nobody is in. What is she doing? Mel finds the security tag on the blouse and starts ripping it from the shirt. 

"What are you doing?" I ask. She ignores me and continues to rip the tag.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I see a short, curly black-haired woman in a deep red blouse standing a few feet away from us. I have a strange vibe she's watching us so I nudge Mel. "Mel. Hey." I nudge her again. She looks up at me. "I think that lady is watching us."

Mel looks up at me, "Are you sure?"

I nod slightly, "She's looking this way."

"Okay. I almost got it." She finally rips it from the blouse and lets the tag fall on the folded long-sleeve shirts on the second shelf. "Come on." We move away from that area and into the back area where the coats hang. We pretend to look around, but my insides scream for me to walk out of the store right now. "Okay. Let's go." We start heading out, but we are stopped by the woman in the deep red blouse. She holds out the ripped tag. Crap. I think this is it.

"Is this yours?" She asks us. Mel should’ve done a better job discarding the security tag. Neither Mel nor I respond. She grabs Mel by her arm. "I need you to come with me." She pulls Mel away from me towards the register. Not knowing what to do, I sit on the soft blue plush couch, waiting for Mel to come out.

Ten minutes later, I receive a call from Mel. "Wendy. Where are you?" She asks frantically.

"What? I'm still at Gap. Where are you?" I ask as I stand up.

"Get the hell out of there Wendy!" This is when the Gap staff and the woman come into my view. "They kicked me out -"

The Gap staff asks, "Are you the girl's friend?"

"Hold on," I tell them. "Hello?" I reply to the phone to get Mel’s attention. She starts telling me something, but the voice of the man overpowers her.

"You need to go. She stole from here -”

"Get the hell out of there Wendy!" Mel shouts at me.

"We're going to have to ask you to leave." He says, literally pushing me out of the store. I'm already leaving. Get your hands off me. I'm trying to fucking talk.

"We're not allowed back there," she says.

I open my mouth to say something, but the man keeps interrupting me, "We cannot prosecute you because you two are under sixteen -"

"Wendy. Are you out of there yet?" Mel asks. I try to respond once again.

But the man kept disrupting me, "You are no longer welcome to Gap."

I never have been a fan of authority figure. When I was in second grade, I had a strict teacher, Ms. Yao, who would put me on the spot to answer questions. If I didn't know the answers, she would humiliate me in front of the other students by asking them, "Wendy does not know the answer. Who can help Wendy with this question?" (Putting a lot of emphasis on the word 'help'). Ever since then, I've always been extremely sensitive if any teachers or authority figures call me out or criticize me.

I walk hurriedly out of Gap, hearing the words, "Don't come back" from them. Yeah. I won't be back. I call Mel immediately after she hung up on me, almost bumping into shoppers. I receive her voicemail again. It makes me want to hurl my phone at her the next time I see her. Why the fuck aren't you answering the phone? I call my friend, Joe, who’s proven to be a reliable friend when I need him.

"Joseph speaking," he says.

"I fucking got kicked out of the store." I shouted, gaining an unintentionally large number of people staring my way. I didn't care; I just need to vent.

“And a hello to you,” he says, making me roll my eyes. "What happened?" I recount my story to him and find tears blurring my vision. I have ever faced this sort of confrontation. I try my hardest to avoid it and I prefer if it never happens again.

I wipe the tears against my jacket, hoping nobody can tell I'm crying. I do not like to garner a lot of attention because then I get nervous. The palms of my hand start sweating and my face feel heated and red. "Who are you with?"

"If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anybody or else," I threaten.

He sighs, "Of course. You can trust me."

"Mel."

"Ah," he simply says.

"Yeah...how....can....she...do...this...to me?" I manage to say while hyperventilating and swallowing my spit. God Wendy. Just calm down. Just breathe. Breathe. Nothing to freak out about. This is not the time. "I'm freaking out James."

"I'm sorry Wendy. Everybody's gets kicked out of a store once in their life." He assures me.

"How ‘bout you?” I ask. His response is no. It didn’t make me feel better; it made me feel worst. My phone starts beeping, indicating I have another call. "Hey. I got another call. I'll call you back in a little while, okay?"

"Yeah sure. Everything’s gonna to be fine, Wendy." He hangs up and I retrieve the next call.

"Wendy." Mel.

"Mel." What am I going to say to her? "Where are you?" Is she going to mention what happened over the phone?

"At Old Navy."

I reply quickly, "Okay. I'll be there in like two minutes."

"Okay. Wendy -”

"Bye." I shut my phone, rushing to where she is. I never expect her to heed my relationship advice, but this…stealing…it involves me which makes me even more upset. She should’ve taken my advice.

I want this day to be over with. I see Mel, shifting uncomfortably on her feet and looking around the crowd for me. I wipe my eyes before announcing my presence to Mel. I don’t want her to know I'd been crying because I don’t want to be console by her. Everything she will try to say to me, I will have to scoff at it because I don’t know if she’s sincere. "Mel." My face turns stone cold when she looks at me.

"Hey. I'm really sorry. I didn't think that would happen." She apologizes as she walks towards me. I avert away from her and make my way across to the street vendors.

"Yeah. No shit. Mel." Mel follows me. "I told you to never steal around me and what did you do? You stole in front of me." I stop walking and face her. "I was fucking kicked out of the store and was told not to come back. Do you know how this makes me feel? I've never been kicked out of a store."

"I'm sorry! I promise it won't happen again," She says, grabbing my arm before I walk off. "Hey. I won't steal again."

"Whatever," I say, rolling my eyes.

"I swear! This has been really scary for me. This is such a wake up call. That was the first time I stole from a clothing store." Liar. What about American Apparel when you stole those pair of running shorts?  I roll my eyes once again. "Wendy. Come on. I swear I won't."

"Fine. But if you do this again, I swear Mel -"

"I promise!" she exclaims as she lets go of my arm. My anger calms by standing still. We start walking again in silence. "Please don't tell Dean." I stop to look at her.

"Don't tell Dean?" I repeat and scoff. "You have to be kidding me."

She shakes her head, "I don't want him to know any of this. It's just you and me that know."

"Fine. Never mention today to me ever again."

She nods in agreement, "Let's go to H&M." We turn the corner. I slowly follow Mel into the more welcoming store, watching her closely if she's going to be true to her words.

On the trip back from San Francisco, silence sits between me and Mel as I stare out the window. The stealing incident never exists and I know everything will go back to the way they are. We will still joke around and make each other laugh. I will still confide in Mel like always and she will do the same, but the trip change one thing in our friendship that I value most – trust. Now, I will always be wondering if Mel is yapping my secrets to her other friends or whether she continues to steal.  God, I hate Gap.