Dina Bern--The Bloomingdale's Booty

The Bloomingdale's Booty

Dina Bern

Photo by Faber Leonardo on Unsplash

"Apollo!" exclaimed Georgina Beltrán, a short, plump, and pedantic widow in her early 70s. "Apollo!!" she repeated, as she pulled on a long black skirt and a matching blouse adorned with colorful faux-gemstone appliques. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself? When are you going to understand that just because you can, it doesn't mean you should do what you did this morning? You are so beautiful, my Apollo! The blonde tone of your hair is so gorgeous, so unique, it’s impossible to find it in hair dye boxes. Don’t I know it! Ever since you came into my life, I have tried, without success, to find your shade of blonde in the most famous shops in Paris, London, and New York—our famous Manhattan. You have no idea how happy I would be if I could apply your shade of blonde to my own hair. I love you, and I know you love me, Apollo, but it saddens and disappoints me that you do what you did this morning so frequently. And so early! I can't let it stay here, inside the apartment. But the doorman on duty must not notice anything. It’s obvious he doesn’t like you, and if he finds out, he might start talking behind our backs with his coworkers and maybe even with the neighbors. I’ll try to hide your mischief. I’ll put it in a box, wrap it in gift paper, and place it in one of those nice bags from the stores where I usually shop. Which one should I choose? Macy's? Bloomingdale's? Saks on Fifth Avenue? It has to be the Bloomingdale's bag! Their bags are larger and beautifully decorated in gold and red. No one will ever imagine that such a pretty bag contains your mischief. What a gorgeous bag! Look, Apollo! I’m not going to throw it away. I like it too much. I will only dump the box containing what you’ve done. That is going to take up the time I had set aside for Qigong exercises with my friends from the building across the street. I need to exercise, Apollo! Why do you behave this way with me?"

Georgina Beltrán put on her makeup, adorned her short, dye-blonde hair with a headband covered in black velvet, slipped her small feet into high black heels to add a few inches to her height, and headed for the door, Bloomingdale's bag in hand. Apollo’s sad eyes followed her. Georgina thought he was ashamed.

"I’ll be back soon," she said. Apollo walked toward the door, and she slammed it in his face. He sat on the floor and heard her turn the keys in all the locks.

Two young men, who looked foreign because of their dark skin and black hair and were chatting animatedly as they crossed her path, annoyed the widow, even though they politely greeted her in unison—and in perfect English—with a "Good morning, ma'am." She did not return the greeting. Had it been uttered in Spanish, the young men's language, Georgina would have understood it perfectly. It was the language of her Latin American country of origin. Being married for many years to an American man of means, with whom she had lived in different states under what were considered affluent conditions, had turned her into a dismissive, even suspicious person toward people of her own background. Her mind focused on the fact that she was holding a Bloomingdale's bag, and the young men possibly wanted that bag. She kept walking at a brisk pace.

Only a few minutes later, Georgina was struck by the radiance of the glossy, wavy, blonde hair of a tall, broad-shouldered young man, who smiled at her, flashing perfect teeth while greeting her with a cheerful "Good morning!"

"Good morning!" she replied, smiling, telling herself, at last I have found in a human the precious color of my Apollo’s hair. "How pleasant it is to see such a beautiful face so early. It looks like you have a sun on each cheek, young man!"

"Thank you very much, ma'am."

"Do you live around here?"

"Yes, I live just around the corner," he lied.

"Where? In the building where Dr. Lewinstein has his office?"

"Yes, in that building. I'm heading home. I've been running in the park. I run every morning. It's the best exercise," the young man continued.

"It does you good. You are the embodiment of health and beauty combined. I’m going in the same direction as you, but a little further. I'm going to that place where they are building the new property."

"Are you going to buy an apartment there?" he asked, feigning curiosity.

"Maybe... maybe..." It was her turn to lie. She was heading there because there were many dumpsters for construction debris, and in one of them, she was going to get rid of her beloved Apollo’s mischief.

"Can I help you with that?" the handsome young man asked, snatching the Bloomingdale's bag from her hand before she could answer. She gave him a grateful look and nodded slightly.

The brief exchange with the young man was enough to inform Georgina that he did not belong to her social circle.

Poor thing, she thought. Maybe he works in the building where he lives. He cleans floors and walls, washes windows, or is an elevator operator. But he is so handsome! With that face and that body, he could get rich. But maybe it's not that easy... How could this boy make money? Let's see... adult movies. Selling drugs. A gigolo. A gangster... My God, what horrible thoughts I have! If the poor angel-faced boy only knew what I am thinking.

They were near the building where the young man had said he lived. Georgina turned her head to look at him and explain that it wasn't necessary for him to accompany her to the construction site, that the bag wasn't heavy, and that she could very well take it back and go on her way. She didn't have time. The young man took off running as if he were the top contender in a race he absolutely wanted to win.

Georgina stood frozen, her lips parted as if in a yawn, as if rooted to the ground surrounded by cement, just like the trees that adorned the street. Suddenly, her mind processed what had happened. The handsome, polite, and lively young man who had put her in such a good mood this morning had robbed her. Then, her mind reminded her of the contents of the luxurious Bloomingdale's bag. Georgina smiled. The smile turned into fits of laughter. She laughed so hard she had to lean against a tree, on the verge of absolute hysterics, as she thought textually amused: You deserve it, scoundrel, you truly deserve your booty.

Apollo recognized her footsteps despite the thick carpet in the hallway of the building where he resided with Georgina. He positioned himself at the door to face her when she opened it.

"My beloved, my treasure! I must tell you that your mischief became the booty of a very young and very shameless scoundrel," she said, lovingly stroking Apollo’s blonde fur. "If you had only seen him run off with that beautiful Bloomingdale's bag, believing it contained some silver candelabra, or gold watches, or a Fabergé egg...! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha... If your mischief serves as a well-deserved punishment for villains, my beloved, you can poop whenever you want inside our apartment! You are so, so charming, my Apollo! You are a sweetheart, my love. Ha, ha, ha, ha...!"

"Woof! Woof! Woof! Woof!" Apollo replied, wagging his blonde tail, happy at the good mood of his beloved human.

~The End~

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