Do you Iove Kohl’s? There was a time when I would frequently go to one of two nearby stores to shop, waiting for a coupon to arrive in the mail before I went. If my mother-in-law received 30% off and I only got 20%, she would give me the code and I would place an order online. Since I no longer work in corporate America, probably like most of us, I Iive in “athleisure wear” which makes me feel like I am training for the Olympics when in fact I will be sitting in my recliner eating a donut while watching them next February. I digress.
Prior to a trip to Washington state, I implored Mister Rain to get some new jeans. One of the unknown vows of our marriage, to me anyway, unspoken at the altar but revealed a few months after we got married, is that I shop with my husband for his clothes. My mother-in-law was thrilled to hand this duty off to me and up until she passed away, I would ask her to take my place when the time came to refresh Mister Rain’s wardrobe. She always said no, adding, “I did my time.”
The issues are many: he is picky and is always concerned about whether an item will shrink, an ancient worry from when we were kids before fabrics were manufactured to remain the size they are when we purchase them. He doesn’t want to try things on, he says no to everything you show him that you think will look good on him. He is color blind which when I still saw color wasn’t an issue. Now we rely on other customers if we need a color identified or I take a photo and send it off to a friend or enlist the help of “Be My Eyes.”
The fact that these shopping excursions are few and far between anymore makes it worse. You sort of remember the trauma but it is not until you are back in the Kohl’s men’s department that it all comes back to you. And you raise your eyes to the heavens and curse the mother-in-law that you loved.
Parking at Kohl’s on this particular quest for denim, I left my purse and phone in the car in order to be hands free. We easily found the many shelves organized by size and color. I am unable to see to help, so my role was to stand there reciting over and over, the waist and length size he needs, the latter actually irrelevant since even the shortest length is too long for my husband’s 5’ 5” vertical stat; the pants will require hemming. You may think I am joking but I honestly do provide him the size he wears on a loop, otherwise he would keep asking me as he moved from shelf to shelf.
Finding several pairs of jeans, he began looking for a dressing room as he had lost some weight since the last time he bought pants quite a few years ago. I followed behind him, but as he rounded the corner of the main aisle to go right, I lost sight of him, so to speak. I should say we were the only customers in the area so I could make out his outline. I stopped, thinking he would come back and let me know he had found a place to try the ieans on. I called his name. He did not return. Instead of wandering around, I sat on a bench in the shoe department where I would be able to see if anyone walked by.
I don’t know how long I sat there but it seemed like a vey long time. I started to worry, had something happened to him in the dressing room? I didn’t have my phone. I walked across the aisle to the men’s department and stood there for a few minutes. In the dozen years since I woke up blind, I have never felt so scared or helpless. Going to the front of the store, I went to customer service, asking them to page Mister Rain, explaining that I am legally blind and could not find him.
Less than a minute later, my husband came down the main aisle that leads to the front door where I waited, walking up very close to me. “Where were you?!?!?! I called you!” I started to cry. “Give me the car keys,” I said. He handed them to me, I gave him my Kohl’s credit card, turned and left the store. I got in the car and realized I was shaking.
It wasn’t long before Mister Rain opened the back door on the driver’s side, throwing in a bag while informing me, “I don’t even know what I got.” I didn’t speak. Settling himself into the driver’s seat, “I am so sorry.” I did not respond. He apolgized again, reiterating that he had texted and phoned me. “I told you when we got out of the car that I wasn’t bringing my cell. Why did you walk away from me and then not come back? I was sure something had happened to you. I had no phone, no car keys, not that I can drive, but I would need my phone.” The ride home was silent except for the sound of me blowing my nose.
Later that day, after processing what had happened, I told my husband that I would not bring it up again nor would I use it against him in the future. I instructed him not to walk away from me like that again and I vowed to him and myself to always have my phone with me.
The incident shook me for several days. A large part of the residual thoughts and feelings were because it was Kohl’s, a place I drove myself to often when I could see, a place my mom and I would go together before I lost her and my vision. Most Kohl’s are identical to each other so I thought I knew that store like the back of my hand even without proper sight. A place and activity that was once so comfortable to me can now be scary. Sort of the story of my life now since becoming legally blind. I eventually found Mister Rain that day but there is a little piece of Sister Rain still in the men’s department at Kohl’s.
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