Tales of a Forgotten Past (4)

The next morning, Steven and Mary went out together to buy him some new clothes. They had gone by car—not theirs, since James had taken that one to meet up with some friends. This one was yellow and, for some reason, had been waiting outside the hotel. That was yet another thing Steven would have to ask about later.

As the car moved through the streets of Chicago, Steven kept his eyes glued to the window, his hand tightly holding Mary's. Without the city's flood of emotions suffocating him, Chicago seemed... fascinating. The streets pulsed with life: people rushing by in colorful coats, tall buildings that looked like they touched the sky, shiny store windows filled with things he didn't even know existed. It was nothing like the endless golden fields along the highway, but it was beautiful... in its own way.

The car kept moving for a few more minutes before stopping in front of a stylish store, with mannequins posing behind a wide window, displaying all kinds of clothes and accessories. Mary paid the driver, and Steven quickly followed her out, slightly afraid the man might drive off with him still inside.

"Look, Steven, this is RCHLO—heaven for women and a nightmare for men," Mary said, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous smile.

Steven tilted his head, confused. "Why? Am I in danger?"

Mary brought a hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh. "No, of course not. It's just that... men usually don't like going shopping for clothes with women. We tend to take a long time."

He frowned. "Why?"

"Because choosing is hard," she replied, as if it were obvious, gently pulling him into the store.

Steven didn't understand, but as soon as they walked in, everything became clear. A smiling saleswoman greeted them, guiding them through aisles filled with shelves and racks overflowing with clothes. There were plaid shirts, wide-legged jeans, jackets, wool sweaters in mustard and dark green tones. It was a sea of colors, fabrics, and options that left him stunned. Picking just a few seemed impossible!

The saleswoman, a woman with curly hair and large glasses, began piling up clothes for Steven to try on. "How about this polo shirt? Or maybe a sweater? It's great for fall," she suggested, holding up a bright orange piece that made Steven wrinkle his nose.

"Um... I don't know," Steven murmured, his eyes bouncing between the options, completely lost. A denim jacket hanging on a rack looked cool, but the blue and white striped shirt had caught his eye too. And those brown pants? Or were the gray ones cooler? He brushed his fingers over a t-shirt with a vibrant print of a race car, hesitating. "Which one is... the best?"

Mary let out a light laugh, noticing the confusion written all over his face. "There's no such thing as a 'best one,' Steven. You pick what makes you feel good. Let's try a few and see how they look on you."

The next hour flew by in the blink of an eye, with Steven going in and out of the fitting room, each new outfit bringing a mix of awkwardness and curiosity. At first, he thought it was all a bit silly — the shirts, the shoes, the high-waisted pants, the colorful fabrics. But little by little, he began to see himself in them, as if the clothes were pieces of a new Steven coming together.

Eventually, the saleswoman brought over a black polo shirt and a pair of straight-cut jeans, which Mary approved of with an enthusiastic nod. "How cute! You look like a little city gentleman!" she said excitedly, adjusting his collar.

Steven looked at himself in the mirror, uncertain. "Do I... look nice?"

Mary knelt down to his level, pride surrounding her. "Nice? You're more than nice, Steven. You look amazing!"

A soft smile appeared on Steven's face when he heard that.

"Ohh, your son is just adorable, ma'am," the attendant commented, watching the interaction between them.

"He really is," Mary said with a wide smile.

********

When they left the store, Mary was carrying several shopping bags while Steven held a single one in his left hand — his right hand firmly gripping Mary's wrist. He wasn't sure why she radiated so much happiness mixed with a deep sense of contentment. But if he had to guess, he'd say Mary had always wanted to live moments like that with her son.

They walked along the busy sidewalk until they reached a shop with small, shiny objects displayed in the window. The two of them went inside, and Mary guided him to the counter with a smile. "Hello, my son needs a watch," she said to the clerk, a man with a thin mustache.

"Of course, just a moment..." The man grabbed a yellow measuring tape from behind the counter. "I just need to measure his wrist."

"Steven, raise your arm," Mary instructed, casting a look that made it clear which arm he was supposed to show.

Steven let go of her wrist hesitantly and raised his right arm. The man measured it quickly, disappeared through a door in the back, and after a few minutes, returned with several watches.

Mary examined the options carefully before pointing to the one with the largest strap. "This one." The clerk nodded and began to wrap it up while Mary paid.

From there, they crossed the street and entered a cosmetics store, the air thick with floral perfumes. A clerk wearing bright red lipstick and a high bun came to greet them. "Good morning, miss. Can I help you with anything?" she asked with a smile, but Steven could feel a clear sense of envy and irritation radiating from her toward Mary.

"Yes," Mary replied. "My mother asked me to buy her a concealer, but I forgot which shade she uses. Can you help?"

"I can try. Do you have similar skin?"

"Oh, no, I take after my father. But my son has similar skin. You can use him to find the shade, right?" Mary said, making Steven turn his head toward her, completely lost.

'What is she planning?'

********

Back at the hotel, Mary placed the shopping bags on the bed and pulled Steven toward the couch, holding the concealer and the watch in her other hand. "Now, pay close attention," she said as she opened the concealer tube, dabbed a bit on her finger, and gently turned Steven's left wrist upward. "Starting today, you're going to do this every morning."

With a careful motion, she spread the concealer over the 007. Steven watched, eyes wide, as the mark that had defined his life vanished, leaving behind nothing but smooth, ordinary skin. He leaned in close, then pulled back, then leaned in again, unable to believe what he was seeing. The number that branded him as an experiment, an object, was gone. He was just... Steven.

"Do you understand, Steven?" Mary asked seriously. "No exceptions, okay? Every morning, you do this. And then..." She took the watch and slid the strap over his wrist, completely covering the spot where the tattoo used to be. "You put the watch on top. Got it?"

Steven opened his mouth, but no words came out. His chest felt tight, not from fear, but from something bigger — gratitude, relief, maybe even love. He looked down at his wrist, now hidden beneath the watch, then up at Mary. Without thinking, he threw himself into her arms, hugging her with all the strength his small arms could muster. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice choked, tears streaming freely down his face. "Thank you for everything, Mommy."