I left my family behind to join a ragtag group of renegade women, and I’ve never been happier
Two years ago I lived a very different life. I’d bake snickerdoodles while the boys were at school. I’d take them to karate and soccer. I’d have Sunny D in the fridge and pizza rolls in the oven for when Bobby and Kyle came home with friends. When Big Rob came home around 6, I’d wrap my arms around him like the plastic on a pair of airport earbuds. I’d put baby Ruth to sleep and settle in with the latest Just My Size catalog and flip through it until I fell asleep. Life was good. But … life was also missing something.
It was that fateful December day when I walked through the Fox River Mall and was nearing the Hot Topic and Sunglass Hut stores, when a fragrance wafted past me. It was like sugar crystals and the light breeze of a chill winter’s day, a hint of balsam fir and just a smidge of apple boughs and vanilla. The words “A Thousand Snowshoe Prints” and “Apple Pie Frozen Miracle — 2019” danced through my head. The names were somehow just effortless and yet intentional and perfectly captured the mood the heavy scents created in your mind. I was at the threshold of the majesty that is a Bath and Body Works store.
As I made my way through the narrow aisles, I filled my basket with body washes and lip balms and candles — I would sniff each tester. I’d be transported to different universes each time. Sometimes it was a fruited, bold paradise, like having to ask for a piña colada on an island where you don’t speak the language. Other times it was cloying and unnaturally sweet like the ponytailed mom in the next aisle with two kids, ignoring their shrieks and hollers as she calmly replies “Be careful now,” and marvels at the price of a three-wick candle that smelled like an adulterous tree. Her eyes rolled back as she smelled it again before putting it back and sighing. “No Caramel Forest Autumn Romance tonight,” she must have thought to herself.
As I tried to avoid the raucous children, a woman appeared behind me. “Don’t buy those,” she whispered. “They’re going to be on sale tomorrow.” I spun around on my heels. She was tall, blonde, and carried a tote bag that said “FabFitFun Summer” on it. She spoke with such authority and mystery that I dare not question her. “Thank you!” I squeaked out. She smiled. I carefully put my items back.
When I came back the next day, there was a short line building. I saw the blonde woman toward the front. “Hey! Cranberry Marshmallow Welcome Advances — hey!” she yelled, remembering the scent of hand butter I was holding as she approached me. I walked to the front of the line. She was with six or seven other women of various shapes and heights and backgrounds. They all had matching North Face zip up fleeces on, leggings for pants, and Sperry quilted duck boots they must have gotten on sale at TJ Maxx recently. “Name’s Rita. That’s Susan, and Jean Marie, and Celia. Her over there, that’s May, and that’s Tonya… and this is my sister Barbara. Ladies, this is the one I was telling you about.” I stood there trying to remember which woman was which when I noticed they all had their North Face zip up fleeces personalized with their name, and a little bomb next to them. As I made small talk and tried to get to know people, the doors opened. What I saw next, I couldn’t believe if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.
As the women piled in, screaming and clawing at each other — Rita pulled my arm toward the window display. As everyone rushed for the back walls and bigger ticket items, the front remained sparse. The sheer force of the crowd would push you toward the back anyway. We loaded the baskets we grabbed with single wicks and body washes. A rain of melon-ious antibacterial liquid sprayed over us as two women fought over the last Summer Paris Getaway hand soap. The air was thick with sun ripened berry, notes of tobacco and oudh, and a whisper of sweet vanilla cream.
She pulled out duct tape and started lining our arms with stress relieving aromatherapy sprays. “They’re larger and glass. Good for climbing through the next wave.” I froze, like a berry over a glistening lake, about to be snatched by a chubby-cheeked wistful child on holiday with his family. “Next wave?” I wondered aloud. She gave me a stern, but hopeful look and said, “Let’s go.” We turned our heads to the aisles and saw a path forward. We ran. With our hearts in our mouths and our forearms padded with lavender scented hope — we headed for the jackpot area: perfume. Barbara appeared beside me. As she struggled to breathe, she nudged me. “They have a limited…. edition… wallflower… just for the holidays…” She fell. We didn’t look back. It was too late for Barbara.
Before we got to the perfumes I saw the wallflowers from the corner of my eye. I looked over at Rita. She had her face smeared over with Creamy Pumpkin Chocolate Body Soufflé like Charlize Theron in Mad Max: Fury Road. She was drunk on power and possibly a little of the Raspberry Heaven Sugar Cloud hand sanitizer she accidentally ingested back by the gift basket display. The wallflowers had labels with gold embedded writing. “A Perfect Frozen Holiday Wish for a Miracle — Limited Edition” … I grabbed six. Then two more. I snapped back at the hand of short, ample bodied brunette. She wailed and fell back upon losing her grip. “That was mine! IT WAS MY WALLFLOWER!” I didn’t care if she was hurt. I kept charging toward the perfume. My mission was clear.
My phone was ringing. Kyle and Bobby’s school maybe. Or maybe my mother calling to see if I was coming back for the baby because her doctor’s appointment was soon. I didn’t care. I never reached for the phone. Today was about me. For the first time in years, everything I did would be for me. And White Chocolate Peppermint Booty Call tealights, just released here as a test market item. Oh, mylanta! I would need 20 of them, at least.
Women clawed at my basket. I smacked fingertips away with the boxes of perfume I stacked into my basket and pockets. I stepped on women stupid enough to wear open-toed shoes. I nearly brained Jean Marie with a three-wick Merry Cocoa Kissed Evening Sweater candle. I don’t even remember checking out. It’s because I didn’t.
The next week I was back at the mall, inexplicably craving the rush I had had with Rita and the girls. I sat in the food court, sucking down a frozen lemonade, when a large bucket purse slapped down hard on the plastic table. It was Rita. She had a North Face in her hand. I knew it was for me. “You really proved yourself back there, missy. You ready for the real deal?” I looked up at her and smiled. “I was born ready, Rita.”
I went home. I burned all my clothes except for the leggings and shirts that say things like “Don’t Bother Unless I’ve Had My Coffee” and “I’m Fluent In Sarcasm, What’s Your Superpower?” and of course 38 pairs of the same underwear. I penned a note to Big Rob. I told him that home life just wasn’t cutting it for me anymore. I had big dreams and a plan. I left a book of crock pot recipes and the number for the Pizza Ranch and sent him an invite for the local Facebook breast milk buy/sell/trade for my darling, fun size, baby Ruth. I closed the door behind me and walked out the front door. Rita and the girls revved their motorcycles. Susan and May wheeled over another one. “This is for you. Welcome to the Bath Bombs.”
That was two years ago today that I rode off into the sunset and followed the highway into Minnesota where we’d begin mapping out our takeover of the Mall of America Bath and Body Works on Christmas Eve. We’ve been riding to the next town, and town after that, getting the best deals on our favorite B&BW scents: the five finger discount. Legend has it that “Sugared Flannel Inclination” was dedicated to Barbara, who we lost on that first, magical day.
Sometimes, I think about Big Rob and the boys and baby Ruth. I wonder if she can speak now. I wonder if the boys are giving $5 gift certificates and gift sets of Lip Smackers to girls in their class yet. But then I look at the group of strong, vibrant, felonious women that surround me and know that I made the right choice. Like a hint of clean linen, eucalyptus and freshly picked freesia buds — my life feels crisp and renewed each day now. I am a Bath Bomb and I smell like honey, amber and cherry scented winter breath clouds.
