Snowing In Memphis

Chapter 7: Here comes Santa Claus

Elvis' fingers brushed past yours, his blue eyes gazing into your own. You smiled pleasingly. Even though nothing really seemed to be going right for you, it was always comforting to know you had Elvis. When you were with him, you were always in complete bliss. He made you happier than anyone else.

Another party tonight. You thought, wondering if would always be like this. Elvis grunted softly, rolling over. It was so early, and although the spiteful sun shone harshly down, only a weak amount of light came through the thick curtains - it barely touched your bodies. Elvis murmured,
"Play with my hair, baby." He was practically half asleep. Elvis' spine tingled as your fingers danced through his velvety hair in the frigid morning. You were each both so cosy you fell back asleep for hours. 

When you opened your eyes, no light shone through the curtains and the room was dim. Elvis was still by your side, deep in slumber. You glanced in disappointment at the small clock on the bedside.

06:13pm

It felt like such a waste of the day. Sliding out of bed, you put on a baby blue tee shirt along with midnight blue trousers and crystal coloured ankle boots. You looked fresh and bright; you loved wearing different shades of one colour in an outfit, and wore it with pride as you quickly grabbed your sapphire handbag. You had just enough time before guests arrived to fit in some frantic shopping. You had been so busy enjoying Elvis that the thought of presents hadn't crossed your mind until just this morning (or rather, afternoon).

To give Elvis a sort of wake-up-call, you hurriedly kissed him on the lips, thinking he'd be too engulfed in his sleep to notice. But Elvis was roused by your kiss, and suddenly grasped the back of your head to push you close to his firm lips again. Stirring, Elvis then dozed back off; thankfully freeing you so you could slip out the front door. You smiled down at him, as he slept like a child curled in sheets of silk. You wrapped your fur coat lovingly around your shoulders - it blocked out the miserable atmosphere outside, and you felt as though it could be summer. The air was crisp and dry so you decided to walk.

Reaching the quaint shops - you felt a sense of relief to be outside. Being with Elvis was wonderful, and he always kept you entertained and well looked after - but you couldn't really go anywhere without a swarm of people surrounding him. The idea of sharing Elvis with thousands of other swooning girls was soon swept from your mind like leaves with the mild wind. Though it wasn't busy, you still felt accomplished doing something independently - as small a task as it was it made you content. 

Back home, Elvis finally woke up.

I'm never quite well rested.  He thought, climbing from the sheets that felt like his shelter from the world. A faint yet consuming wave of fear dawned over Elvis' mind when he saw your empty pillow on the opposite side of the bed. He then remembered you scurrying off that morning - knowing you must have gone to the store. Hoping he wasn't mistaken about your whereabouts, Elvis hopped in the shower - recalling his party plans that night. 

Meanwhile, you walked around the stores, staring into windows - your lost expression reflecting on the glass. Nothing seemed right.
What do you get the man who has everything?  Anything Elvis wanted, he could just buy for himself; you had not the faintest clue what to get him. What made it worse was that Elvis was brilliant at gift-giving, and always put so much thought into things. You wanted to find him something meaningful... toiletries and socks aren't meaningful.

At the end of the street you spied an antique shop. In the window you noticed a gorgeous snow globe. Normally, you found things like that to be tacky but it was just beautiful. It had little shimmering pearls and jewels on the outside and a picturesque snowy scene of a charming cottage incased inside. The whimsical red and yellow sign invited you in. A small chime jingled against the door as you walked into the cramped little space. A crouched, grey man shuffled over to you with a jolly grin.
"Honey, you don't look like the type of girl I ought to have here," he joked, his voice sounding similar to Elvis', only croaky and more high-pitched. "not that I'm complaining." he added, chuckling to himself. Normally, a comment like that would make you uneasy - but the man was totally harmless and you felt comfortable seeing one or two other customers at the back of the store.

"Hi!" You greeted, looking down at his old face, his wrinkled smile like the grooves of a record upon his sunny skin. The man asked you what you were looking for, and you explained that you wanted a present for Elvis - not using his name, of course.
"He's just impossible to buy for!" You told the owner. Two girls at the other end of the store turned around to look at you while tittering to each other. Wondering if you knew them, you opted not to wave.
"Well what does he like?" The aged gentlemen asked.
"Whatever he likes, he gets. it would have to be something less materialistic." You had lost yourself, confused at the giggling teens as you tried to say what you actually meant. "Something with emotional value?" The shop owner helpfully suggested. "That's right!" You hated how you were making yourself sound like a fool.

"Well, you've come to the right place, honey!" You grinned but didn't take in what he was saying. You were slowly starting to resent how you were blatantly being whispered about by the young girls. Ignoring them, you thanked the owner and browsed by yourself. A few things made you laugh as you imagined giving them to Elvis: a pocket watch that opened to reveal a nude woman inside; an ugly green ring that showed a vile looking toad as the jewel; a taxidermy mouse with a tiny plastic fairy riding it's back; amongst other treasures. You then noticed a bookshelf at the corner nearest the display window. You knew of Elvis' fondness of books, so wandered over towards it.

Skimming over the dusty spines of the row of novels, you spotted a small, yet chunky emerald book. In gold foil letters it read: "The curious ways of man." The blurb presented itself as a book on philosophy and phycology 'Delving into matters of religion, spiritual mentality and authentic human power.' 

It sounded right up Elvis' street, the bookworm he was. You seized the hardback, pleased with your find. You spun around towards the till to buy it - only to see the pair of girls who stood before you, laughing still.
"Can I help you?" you asked in the cheeriest tone you could manage.
"Sorry to bother you," started one of the girls, who wasn't sorry at all. "but aren't you Elvis Presley's new girlfriend?"

The question caught you off guard. That was the last thing in the world you expected them to say.
"Uh... yeah." you confirmed - still puzzled. Their eyes lit up.
"We thought so! You were on the front of Hillary's magazine this morning, wasn't she, Hillary?!" Hillary nodded enthusiastically. You breathed a slight laugh almost silently, your mouth closed. You weren't sure what else to say. T

here was a different man working at the till than the old man who had greeted you. He was a younger boy, but looked almost sketchy. Despite the cold, he was sweating, and was wearing a cocky grin.
"Elvis, you say?" He echoed. The two girls nodded from behind you as you dropped the book onto the register table.  

"This book's a three-group purchase, I'm afraid." The sweaty boy consoled, wiping his brow as he spoke.
"What does that mean?" you questioned, fed up with the whole thing. The boy explained you had to buy two more things with the book; that it was part of their stock clearance.
What the heck - I may as well! You begrudgingly grabbed the pornographic watch as well as the frog ring you had seen before just to get out there quicker. 
"Weird rule." You commented as he bagged up your purchases.
"Weird store." He replied, giving you your change. 

It was a huge relief to be out of the stuffy antique shop. Nonetheless, you were thrilled with the book and happily strolled home, where Elvis was getting ready for his party.