As it turned out, the entirety of the food selection, given that we didn’t have a microwave or anything, was candy and potato chips. I guess I’d already given up on dieting for the day, right? So there was no reason to not get the king size bag of chocolate candy with some tortilla chips and salsa. I asked Mitta if I could get some clothes, since I had nothing with me besides what I was wearing. She agreed, so we began browsing the sad little clothing section.

“This is cute!” she exclaimed, holding up what I guess was supposed to be a tank top with something written on the front – it didn’t even look like enough fabric to be considered a shirt to me. I just shook my head and kept digging to the back of the pants rack, past all of the smalls and mediums and hoping desperately to come across an extra large. I’d take just about anything at that point - even the skin tight leggings. That would at least be better than wearing these same baggy jeans for Lord knows how long. Well… maybe.

“Here, is this more your thing?” she asked, holding up a blue t-shirt with some logo printed on it.

“Yeah, I’ll come find the right size in a second.” I was almost through the pants, clinging onto my small hope that I’d find something that had a chance of fitting.

“Just tell me your size – I’ll find it.”

“Oh, um…” I’d been trying to avoid that. I mean, it’s not like she didn’t know what I looked like, but… I guess I was being ridiculous. “Extra large.”

“On it,” she said and began digging through the rack. Like a miracle, or maybe a reward from God for telling her, I found a pair of pants – and not the leggings, either. Perfectly acceptable sweatpants. I smiled as I grabbed them off the rack, and turned to find Mitta holding much more than just the blue t-shirt.

“What all do you-” I started to ask.

“Trust me, you’ll like them,” and with that she started to walk away. I followed her, unsure whether to protest not knowing what she’d picked up or to thank her for spending so much on my wardrobe. I chose to say nothing.

I thought we were headed for the checkout, but instead she turned down another aisle, and stopped beside a rack of pillows. She grabbed one and held it up for me to feel. “Is this okay?”

“Umm, what for?” I’d just kind of assumed that we’d be finding a hotel or something at night, but the pillow held in my face suggested otherwise.

“To sleep? The back seats in your car do fold down, right?”

“Yeah?”

“So we just fold them down and make a bed in the back.” I nodded, though the entire idea made me extremely uncomfortable. I couldn’t just ask her to pay for a hotel – I mean, I didn’t even know how much money she had. Maybe we couldn’t afford one. “So, is this okay?” she asked, indicating the pillow in her hand.

“Oh, yeah, sure.” I was busy trying to figure out how we were going to do this. Maybe one of us was going to sleep in the front seats? I tried not to think about it as we walked up to the checkout and she paid for everything.

Before I knew it we were standing behind my car, trunk door open and seats folded down. “So how is this going to work?” I asked, nervous.

“I mean, it’s not that complicated. Pillows,” she said, pointing toward the floor that was right behind the front seats. “Blankets, bed.”

“So we’d be… next to each other?”

“Yeah, that is pretty much the plan.”

“Umm… I’m not, really, comfortable… with that.” I couldn’t look at her as I said it, so I just sat down on the back end of the car and looked out at the almost-empty parking lot.

“Why?” she asked, sitting down beside me.

“Umm, it’s just…”

“Do you like girls? Cause that’s cool – like nothing has to be awkward.”

“No! No, umm… Did you see the, umm, cross? Hanging from the mirror?” There was a pause.

“Ohhh.” Now she thought I was super prejudiced. Great. I couldn’t very well explain what it was like growing up with Mama and all the rules and how drilled they were into my head. The line between what I believed and what she told me was long gone, if it had ever been there to begin with. “Could I just flip around? Like have my head back here by the windows instead of the seats?”

Mama still wouldn’t approve. “Yeah, that works.”