Chapter 2

"OK," I said. "Let's be practical. What clothes and stuff do you have, and where is it?" So far I had only seen a small handbag.

"My pack is in one of the free lockers downstairs," she said, "but there isn't much in it - mainly some clothes and they are all dirty. As are these," she said, indicating her clothes and shuddering.

"Well, that is not a problem," I replied cheerfully. "We're in a shopping center and the shops are open."

"But I don't have a cent," she cried.

"Duh, I know that," I countered. "Didn't I just tell you I was going to help you?" I continued and headed into one of those gigantic department stores that have absolutely everything.

The shopping expedition was memorable and brought happy memories of similar trips with my daughters years back. Unlike many other males, I don't mind shopping with teenagers and the change in Laura's demeanor was astounding. If you don't believe in 'shopping therapy', you should have been there! We started getting a complete set of toiletries. She headed for the cheap no-name generics, but I asked her what brands she liked and it was quality stuff. Not ultra-expensive, but certainly good respectable brands. Once more I was delighted with her care in picking products free of substances potentially dangerous to her baby. If only her parents could see her through my eyes - they ought to be proud. A few low-allergy cosmetics went into the cart last.

"That more or less completes the toiletries," I said. "You obviously won't need pads or tampons for the foreseeable future, but some panty liners would be a good idea."

Blushingly she grabbed a couple of packs.

"And don't forget a razor," I said. "Do you prefer a blade or an electric?"

She looked at me quizzically. "How come you know so much? My dad would have no idea that women shave their legs. And other places," she added more hesitantly.

"I was married for twenty years," I said. "I have two grown daughters. Besides, I'm sure your father knows - he just doesn't talk about such things. I do, but then I'm not American."

"Figures," she said and picked a cheap Philips Lady Shaver.

"Don't get that model," I said. "Get a cordless one. I don't want you to be electrocuted in the bath." This time she didn't protest.

"There is a decent hair drier in your bathroom and I have tons of towels, but you should get a nice dressing gown," I said.

"My bathroom?" she asked but getting no answer she selected an oversized fluffy white dressing gown.

"OK, clothes time!" I said with relish.

She stared at me. "Are you sure you're for real?"

"You'd better believe it. What's your size?" I said as we got to the underwear section.

"Um, small I think, but I am sort of growing." She blushed once more.

"Duh! We'll get a dozen undies in size medium then," I said.

"'Undies'?" she asked.

"Sorry. I guess you call them 'panties'." I corrected. "As I said, I am not native."

"Figures!" she replied. That seemed to be a favorite term of hers.

"Get half a dozen tee-shirts and half a dozen other tops," I said.

She complied and got socks, stockings and similar mysteries without my prompting.

"You don't exactly need maternity wear yet," I said, "but do get something comfortable. Stretchy jeans or pants and dresses and so on."

Again she looked like she was going to protest, but then shook her head and found some nice stuff which she went to try on. Her eye for size had been good and she didn't need to return any of it. "I am sure glad," she said. "The shop would be furious, I do stink."

"Easily fixed once we're home," I said unworried. "Have you got other shoes than those you're wearing?" I asked, eyeing her worn sneakers which seemed singularly unsuitable for the season.

"No," she said, looking pained again.

"Well, get some," I said with mock impatience. "What are you waiting for?"

She found a sturdy, but nice pair of shoes and at my insistence also a pair of winter boots.

"Get some slippers too," I urged. "I don't like outdoor shoes in our apartment and the floors can be cold."

"Our apartment?" she asked, but again she got no answer and picked a comfy pair of slippers.

"Let's see," I said, "we still have to find some jumpers, I mean sweaters, or sweatshirts or what not, and a winter coat than can actually close around both of you would be good."

She smiled and complied. Again I was pleased with her choices. The kid had style. "OK, what do you wear to bed?" I asked, "and don't say 'Channel No 5' - I have perfume allergy."

"Well, actually, I prefer an old fashioned flannel night gown in winter," she said archly. "Can I get one of those?"

"Better get two," I said. After some hunting we found them.

"Well, that more or less completes your immediate needs," I said, "with one exception."

She nodded assent to the first part of the statement, but looked questioningly at me over the last.

This was delicate. "I don't want you to think I am anything like your friend's father," I started, "but it is rather obvious that your bra is much too small for you."

I had expected a blush and got one, but in addition I got a look of pure wonder from those piercing blue eyes. "You're not anything like Joan's sleazy dad. And yes, I do need another bra. My boobs must have grown three cup-sizes in the past three months."

"Well, in that case they are likely to stay more or less the same until just before the baby comes," I said, drawing on past experience. She nodded. "Go over to the lingerie department and get them to help you with the fitting," I continued. "You should find a couple of practical and comfortable bras, but you should also get something frivolous. The months ahead will be difficult. We should work on strategies for making you feel good about yourself."

Her eyes filled with tears again. Being quick to tears is not unusual for any pregnant woman at the best of times. For Laura, her first trimester must have been the worst of times and there was a lot of pent up emotion bursting to come out. With a thick voice she said "OK" and headed over to the lingerie section.

I expected a long wait, but once more she was remarkably efficient and returned before long with three white full-cupped bras and something flimsy midnight blue. "The woman was really nice and helpful. She either had a bad cold or somehow managed to overlook my smell. Oh, and I, um, I got a set of the..." she trailed off, revealing that the flimsy blue was actually not one but two garments. "I hope you don't mind."

"It's fine," I said deadpan. "Operation 'Being Good To Laura' starts this evening."

"And how!" she muttered.

The cart was more or less full now. In her absence I had found a good sturdy leather suitcase and swung it up on top.

"What's that for?" she asked.

"Well, if at any time you want to leave you should be able to take your clothes. So this is for you."

"And what if I never want to leave?" Laura asked in a very small voice.

"In that case you'll find the suitcase useful when we go travelling."

The tears started again.

She recovered while we queued up at the check-out, but once the final amount showed up on the display she broke down again. "Don't worry about that," I said and handed the check-out lady a credit card. "Don't worry about a thing."