Love on Layaway

 

Charlie was 67 years old, but he swore the mall’s benches had aged him another ten. He sat slouched on one near the food court, watching a parade of shoppers pass by like it was a moving exhibit at a human zoo. In his lap was a paper cup of lukewarm coffee he’d been nursing for an hour.

His wife, Marlene, was somewhere deep in the labyrinth of yet another boutique. She’d darted in with the same glint in her eye she always had when she spotted a “50% Off” sign, as if she’d just discovered buried treasure.

Charlie loved her—no question about that—but he couldn’t understand this unshakable obsession. Over the decades, he’d tried to nudge her toward other hobbies: gardening, hiking, even ballroom dancing once. But every attempt had been politely declined in favor of “just popping into a few stores.”

As he sat there, he thought about how they used to spend weekends picnicking in the park when they were younger, laughing about nothing in particular. Now, weekends were fluorescent-lit marathons of browsing racks and waiting.

A teenage boy at the next bench scrolled on his phone, earbuds in. Charlie thought about asking him what kept people hooked these days. He imagined the kid saying, “TikTok.” Charlie doubted that would help.

When Marlene finally emerged, beaming and holding a bag with something frilly and pastel poking out, Charlie smiled back. He took the bag from her without complaint.

“Find what you wanted?” he asked.

“Oh, better than that,” she said. “I found exactly what I didn’t know I needed.”

Charlie chuckled. He didn’t get it. Maybe he never would. But he looped his arm through hers as they walked toward the next store. Because in the end, he thought, maybe it wasn’t about the shopping at all—it was about still walking together after all these years, even if the path was paved in clearance tags.