(Source : The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri)
Moushumi led Gogol to a little boutique in Madison. The window was crowded with women's hats perched on gray featureless heads, with sloping necks nearly a foot long.
"They have men's stuff in the back," she said. The shop was crowded with women. The back was relatively tranquil, stacks of fedoras and berets arrayed on curved wooden shelves. He picked up a fur hat, a top hat, trying them on as a joke. The glass of wine had made him tipsy. Moushumi began rummaging through a basket.
"This will be warm," she said, placing her fingers inside a thick navy cap with yellow stripes on the brim. She stretched the hat with her fingers. "What do you think ?" She put it on his head , touching his hair, his scalp. She smiled, pointing to the mirror. She watched as he studied himself.
He was aware that she was looking at him rather than at his reflection. He wondered what her face looked like without her glasses, when her hair is loose. He wondered what it might be like to kiss her on the mouth. "I like it," he said. "I will take it."
She pulled it off his head quickly, spoiling his hair.
"What're you doing ?"
"I want to buy it for you."
"You don't have to do that."
"I want to," she said, already heading toward the register. "It was my idea, anyway. You were perfectly happy freezing to death."
At the register cashier noticed Moushumi eyeing a brown wool and velvet hat decorated with feathers. "It's an exquisite piece," the cashier said, carefully lifting it off the bust. "Hand made by a woman in Spain. No two are alike. would you like to try it ?"
Moushumi placed it on her head. A customer complimented her. So did the cashier. "Not many women can pull off a hat like that," the cashier said.
Moushumi blushed, glanced at the price tag, "I'm afraid it's out of my budget today," she said.
"Well, now you know what to get her for her birthday," she said looking at Gogol.
He put on the new cap and they stepped out of t he store. He was late for his meeting. If it weren't for that, he would be tempted to stay with her, to walk through the streets beside her, or disappeared with her into the dark of a movie theater. The day had turned even colder, the wind more forceful, the sun a faint white patch. She walked him back to the office. For the rest of the day, throughout his meeting and as he struggled, afterward, to get back to work, he thought of her. When he left the office, instead of walking to the subway, he retraced the steps they'd taken together earlier, past the restaurant where the people were now having dinners, and found his way to the hat store, the sight of it lifting his spirits. It was nearly eight o'clock, dark outside. The shop was about to be closed, the gate only partly lowered. He studied the items on the window, and his reflection in the glass,wearing the cap she'd bought for him. Eventually he walked in. He was the only customer ; he could hear the sound of a vacuum cleaner running at the rare of the store.
"I knew you'd be back," the sales woman said as he walked through the door. She took the brown velvet hat off the styrofoam head without his having to ask. "He was here earlier today with his girlfriend," she explained to her assistant. Shall I wrap it for you ?"
"That would be great." It excited him to hear himself that way. He realized that he'd not asked the price, but without a thought he signed the receipt for two hundred dollars.
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