Page 14 of Taken By Sin
There’s an ever-circulating stack of contraband DVDs at the orphanage, with movies we would never be allowed to watch. I was always fond of that film, the way it was women in charge, calling the shots, dressing however they pleased. Answering to only themselves. Then morning would come, and I would wake up at the crack of dawn to clean or cook or learn. The exact opposite of a woman in charge of her life.
I admire the pants once more, wondering if I should grab them. The problem is, Bria isn’t here, and I have no idea how to style the rest of the outfit.
A woman nearby has a name tag that says ‘Avery’.
“Excuse me, Miss,” I speak softly. She turns toward me, smiling, but as she sees me, her expression shifts to almost a scowl, taking me in with a barely concealed look of disgust. I extend my hand to the rack, “Could you-”
“We don’t have your size,” she states.
I gesture to the rack. “My size is here,” I correct her. Bria squeals from the dressing room, finding something she loves.
“Our larges,” she sighs, “they fit differently. Maybe you would be better off heading to Fifth Avenue? They have better options foryou."
I frown, looking down at my feet. I wish I could be more courageous, to not allow this woman to treat me like I don't belong... but the truth is, she’s right; I don’t belong here. Whether it be from my size, or the uniform I’m wearing, I do not look like her normal clientele.
Bria appears, exiting the changing rooms, dresses draping her arms. The rude woman breaks into a wide, fake grin, turning her attention away from me completely. “Miss Donati, may I help you?”
“Yes, oh! Are you getting something, Magnolia?”
Avery looks back at me, fixing her scowl with a wide grin, "You're together?"
“Yes,” I respond in a cool, neutral tone, but Bria doesn’t miss the tears that are annoyingly starting to form in my eyes.
“Maybe…” The woman taps her chin in thought. “We have some more of those pants in the back.”
Bria reads the room, taking in my frown and stopping the woman with the lift of her hand. “Everything okay?” She asks.
"Everything is gre—" Bria cuts the woman off with a flick of her wrist.
"Magnolia," she says quietly, "are you okay?"
Stealing a little of the strength in her tone, I raise my head and say, “Avery told me I’d be better off heading to Fifth Avenue since I won’t fit into anything here.”
Bria’s gentle, soft features transform into Sin. Literally, she looks just like her brother. A scowl mangles her perfect face. She waits until another worker is close by before tossing the dresses into Avery's arms.
“This should be about nine thousand dollars’ worth of clothes that we won't be buying; you can put them back on the rack.”
Avery is speechless as the other woman walks over. “Is everything okay, Ms. Donati?”
Bria gives the woman a smile that could burn the world down, “Everything is just fucking peachy.” She sneers, grabbing a small concrete paperweight and driving it down onto the glass top of the register. It shatters and I gasp, stepping back. “You won’t be receiving any more Donati business until she is fired,” she states, pointing an accusatory nail at Avery, turning on her heels.
“It’s okay, Bria,” I try to reason, my wide eyes roaming over the glass on the floor.
“It’s not,” she insists, grabbing my things and plopping them directly on the broken counter.
We walk out, like nothing happened. “Wait, Bria, you loved that dress. I heard you in the dressing room," I try to protest. “And the glass!”
She grips my shoulders firmly, saying, “Nothing is ever worth sacrificing your honor, Magnolia.” The sun blinds me as I look at her. “We do not allow anyone to make us feel less than, not in the Donati family, not you either.”
“Where do we go now?” I wonder, wanting to get away from that moment, the fear I felt. Not from Bria, just the violence of it.
She’s distracted by her phone. “Jesus!” she exclaims, tossing her head back, causing me to pause. I’ve never heard anyone use that name for anything other than prayer.
“What?” She reels her head back at me, ignoring whatever call was coming through.
“Jesus,” I whisper back, making her laugh.
She snorts, “I’m catholic too, Magnolia. Don’t worry. We can go to confession every week to deal with our sins like any good old catholic does. You’re going to need to if you live with us.”