Invisible Ellen by Shari Shattuck Page B

had a good excuse.”
    Ellen had never bought anything from a department store in her life. Just being there was as unfamiliar to her as space travel, and shecould never have done it without Temerity beside her. The furniture she possessed had come with the sad apartment or been discarded on the street close enough to her house for her to carry it up herself. There was a secondhand store not far from her apartment where she had, on occasion, bought a necessary pot or lamp, but it was a depressed, crowded place and the people who worked there were so used up that there was nothing left for banter with the barely civilized clientele, so she could slink in and out unnoticed. Thinking of an excuse to speak to the manager in this fancy retail palace was beyond her realm of experience or courage.
    â€œI know,” Temerity said suddenly, startling Ellen out of her apprehensive stupor, “I’ll say I’m in the market for a rug or some such, and I need someone to help me. Then I can ask for a handicapped discount and that’s sure to bring the manager. Nobody wants to tell a blind chick she has to pay full price. I have no idea why. Thoughts on that?”
    Not wanting to say that they probably felt sorry for her, because the entire idea of feeling sorry for this exceptional person was frankly asinine, Ellen just mumbled a negative.
    â€œJust point me in the right direction.” Temerity prepped for the mission by unfolding her stick. “You go sit down somewhere and watch carefully. I need you to tell me what you see. Okay?”
    Ellen was fully amenable to any plan that removed her from the action at the front. There was one thing she knew about Sam’s sister, but it wasn’t something that would help Temerity, so she turned the girl in the direction of the sales desk and went to sit on the corner of a coffee table in the “as-is” discount section that was partially hidden by a support post.
    Temerity clicked along until she came to the sales counter. There was no one there, but a man seated at a design desk noticed her androse, coming forward with a big smile. When he spotted the stick, the smile sort of froze, drooped, and then seemed to give up, as if it were thinking,
What’s the point?
    â€œMay I help you?” he asked.
    â€œMaybe,” Temerity said brightly. “I’m looking for a rug, and as much as I’d like to pick it by softness, my brother, who lives with me, might be upset if I come home with something that jars his delicate sensibilities.”
    â€œI see,” said the man, and then realized his faux pas. “I mean, of course I can help you.” He repeatedly stole looks at Temerity’s well-shaped chest. Then it apparently occurred to him that there was no need for subtlety, so he went ahead and leered. There was a smirk on his face that Ellen would like to have wiped off with a stout two-by-four. “What size rug are you looking for?”
    â€œBig, really, really big.” Temerity screwed up her face. “I live in a loft. And here’s the thing”—she leaned in and stage-whispered—“I’ll be needing the handicapped discount.”
    â€œThe . . . what?” The salesman was so surprised that his eyes rebounded up from Temerity’s breasts to her face.
    â€œYou know, I get most stuff for half off. That’s not a problem, is it?” She assumed, quite suddenly, a vulnerable and lost expression. Ellen was impressed.
    â€œI’m not sure we have that policy here at Macy’s,” he said, clearly flustered. “I’ll have to ask my manager.”
    â€œGreat, you do that, and if you could show me the rugs, I’ll let my fingers do some walking.”
    The man touched her arm and directed her awkwardly to the rugs, then hurried away toward a door in the back.
    Ellen shifted her position to get a better perspective. Temerity was now by a huge rack of suspended carpets that