The Woman in the Brown Dress

Laila pushed the shopping cart up the supermarket aisle, stopping to check out the snack foods. She smiled at the colorful assortment of cookies, recalling how much junk food she and her roommates had consumed in college. Well, now that she was out on her own, she knew that she had to be more responsible about what she ate. Besides, she was trying to live on a budget.

On the other hand, she really did love chocolate chip cookies.

"Oh, all right, one box won't kill me," she finally conceded with a slight smile, and she tossed a box of her favorites in with the other groceries. Glancing up from her cart, then, she noticed a woman looking at her. As soon as their eyes met, the woman, who was dressed entirely in brown, quickly turned away and rolled her shopping cart around the corner to the next aisle.

Weird, Laila thought. I could have sworn I saw that same woman looking at me before.

In truth, Laila had had the oddest feeling of being watched ever since she'd come into the store. But that was just silly. She hadn't seen any familiar faces, and since she had only recently moved into the neighborhood, it was unlikely that anyone would recognize her. Sure, some guy might be checking her out, but guys usually weren't subtle about doing that. And besides, she hadn't noticed many young guys in the store today, and she generally had pretty good radar.

Laila moved to the next aisle and selected several kinds of pasta for her cart. She was comparing jars of sauce when she suddenly had that feeling of being watched again. She looked up and down the aisle, but saw only a young mother with her three-year-old and an elderly couple.

She shook her head. You're getting paranoid, she told herself. A moment later, though, she was sure she'd caught a glimpse of a brown dress. Frowning, Laila pushed her cart down the aisle and turned the corner. Near the end of the next aisle, she saw the woman again, carefully studying a box of breakfast cereal.

This time it was Laila who did the staring. The woman was in her mid-sixties. Her brown dress looked neat and clean, though a couple of years out of style. She had chin-length graying hair, which curled around her pale, lightly made-up face.

Laila's frown faded. The woman looked about as alarming as Laila's aging grandmother in Michigan. I must be losing it, Laila thought. I'm imagining I'm being stalked by a woman nearly three times my age, whose main concern is probably finding cereal with fiber.

The woman in the brown dress added a cereal box to her nearly full shopping cart and continued on her way. Laila followed in her direction, pausing to choose a box of cereal for herself. Rounding the corner, she noticed that the woman had stopped to examine some canned foods on the shelves. As Laila walked past her, the woman gave her a long look, then immediately returned her gaze to the canned food.

Creepy eyes, Laila thought. Brown, almost black, deep-set eyes. She pushed her cart a little faster, wanting to increase the distance between them. The woman was no doubt harmless, but something about her made Laila uneasy nonetheless. Trust your instincts, her father always advised her. It's a bizarre world—full of wackos really.

Laila went on with her shopping, unable to shake the feeling of being watched. The woman in the brown dress continued in the same direction, sometimes behind Laila, sometimes in front of her. Once, Laila thought the woman smiled at her, but it might have been Laila's imagination.

When she had everything she needed, Laila headed for the checkout lanes at the front of the store. As she pushed her cart toward the line with the fewest people, the woman in the brown dress suddenly appeared directly in front of her. Laila stopped short, startled. But then she smiled and gestured for the woman to get in front of her. The woman smiled back, said thank you, and took her place in line ahead of Laila. Her cart was much fuller than Laila's, but Laila wasn't going to make a fuss.

Then Laila noticed the man in the black jacket. He was standing just outside the exit door and seemed to be staring in her direction. He had a grim, unshaven face with a slightly menacing look.

Oh great, she thought. Another weirdo. Why do I have the sense that the whole world is watching me today?

Before she could pursue the thought, though, the woman in the brown dress turned toward her.

"I must apologize, dear," she said, looking slightly embarrassed.

Laila didn't know what she was talking about. "For what?"

"For staring at you," she said. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

So I wasn't imagining it! Laila thought, feeling as though she had just regained her sanity.

"I knew you were looking at me, but I couldn't figure out why."

"Oh, I was just being silly," she said, unloading her groceries onto the checkout counter.

"What do you mean?"

The woman's expression saddened. "My daughter," she said with a sigh. “You just look so much like her. Breaks my heart…"

Laila looked stricken. "You don't mean that she—"

"Oh, no, no, dear. She's alive and well, thank goodness. But she's moved away and taken my grandson with her. Her husband is now working in Australia, and they've relocated there." She paused, her eyes glistening. "They are the only family I have, and now … now I don't even know when I'll see them again." She wiped at her eyes. "I so miss my daughter and that little boy."

Laila nodded sympathetically, not sure what to say and still somewhat distracted by the man standing at the store’s exit. She was certain he was staring at her.

"Would that be too much of an imposition?"

Laila looked back at the woman, suddenly realizing that she had asked her a question.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"I was just wondering, if it wouldn't be too much of an imposition, could you do me a huge favor? It's kind of silly, but …"

"What would you like me to do?"

"Well, as I go, do you think you could say to me, 'Bye, Mom. See you Friday'? You see, that's what my daughter always said, because we had dinner together on Friday night every week. It would feel so good to hear those words again."

Laila smiled. "Of course."

As the woman pushed her cart, now loaded with bags of groceries, toward the door, she waved at Laila.

Laila waved back. "Bye, Mom," she called to her. "See you Friday."

The woman grinned and headed for the exit.

Laila unloaded her cart and watched the cashier ring up the items. This has been one strange shopping experience, she thought, looking forward to getting home.

The cashier, a girl of about 19 with large hoop earrings, looked up as scanned the last item in Laila’s cart.

"That comes to $172.59"

Laila thought she'd misheard her. "What?"

"$172.59," the girl repeated.

"That's impossible," Laila said, thinking that the whole world had gone nuts today. "There can't be more than about $50 or $60 worth of items here."

The cashier smiled patiently. "That, plus your mom's purchases."

Laila stared at her.

"Your mother said you'd pay for them together," the cashier explained.

Laila felt her stomach lurch. "My mother? No … you don't under—"

Just then, she became aware of a commotion outside the exit door. The shoppers around her all turned to look, as did the cashier.

The woman in the brown dress was being led back into the store by the unshaven man in the black jacket. She looked very upset. The two of them came directly toward Laila.

"When you're done, miss," the man said to Laila, "I'm going to need to speak with you."

Laila's head was spinning. "What's going on?"

The man reached into his pocket and displayed a badge. "I'm Detective Scott." He paused, glanced at the woman in the brown dress. "May I assume that this woman is not your mother?"

The woman had begun to cry now, and Laila hesitated. The poor woman looked so pathetic.

"Before you go all gooey inside and start feeling sorry for her, you should know that this is not the first time she's pulled this stunt. What did she tell you? That her family died in a car crash? That her children abandoned her? That you remind her of her beloved daughter?"

Laila was at a loss for words. Her father was right. It sure was a bizarre world.