A Food Mart Dalliance

After twenty years on the job, mostly wearing green colored Dickies and Wolverine steel toe boots, he realized the rut he occupied was deeper than the Cotahuasi Canyon. James spent most of his time with his Fluke clamp meters and magnetic tipped nut drivers, struggling to meet deadlines, soldering loose connections and going days without talking to a single soul. Since he had no one to laugh at his jokes, give advice about his problems at home or discuss his team losing that playoff game, his best days were those that were filled with urgent but unimportant tasks to be completed for unseen  and inpatient customers. His busiest hours, which were loss trouble-shooting aged electronics to be refurbished  and resole for obscene profits,  keep his mind occupied and away from those dreaded echoes of silence. His only chance to talk, to communicate, to get things off of his chest came when reports were required about which parts needed replacing or what projects had been delayed.

“What can I help you with Larry, came for a visit?” James asked.

“Just checking about the order for the New Hope hospital.” Larry replied.

“That wasn’t due until next week right, did something change?”

“Was that next week, I thought it was this Friday.”

“Larry you know its scheduled for next week. Is this project now my top priority?”

“I’m not saying that, just saying it would be nice if it was finished Friday.”

“You guys are killing me, only come around when you need something. I’ll see what I can do, not promising anything!”

“Thanks James, I knew I could count on you?”

Of course James delivered as he always did. He had plenty of time and nothing else to fill the hours.

After work he no longer was able to occupy his time at the various bars he had accumulated like an antique coin collection. No longer was he able to spend time in therapy with his regular bar stool acquaintances. Even though they repeated the same jokes, told the same lies and relived all the same recycled dramas these 5:00 clock regulars provided the closest thing James had to a two way conversation.

The decades of drinking Michelob’s, smoking bummed cigarettes and eating badly fried catfish had taken an irreversible toll on his aging body. He could now only stomach bland foods made for seniors and weak drinks, like apple juice, desired only by toddlers. Without helping himself to the filter-tipped menthol Salems, honey barbecue chicken wings and draft beer specials he felt like an outsider. You couldn’t tell the story of getting drunk and hitting a parked police car with authority while holding a diet coke.

Now, to kill time and avoid jail time with his family, a mother who wouldn’t be dying anytime soon and a younger brother who seldom worked, James had replaced his bar hangouts with grocery stores. He preferred the local stores over the national chains for their old neighborhood feel. The Champion Food Mart had become a regular in his rotation for the daily commute home stopover.  Located next to a bowling alley in a small strip plaza, the store had no shortage of customers. Conversations about who had the best brand of decaf coffee were easily started.

“I think I’m going to try this breakfast blend.”

“No you should try the dark roast, that will wake you up in the morning.”

“But I like a little non dairy creamer in my coffee and to me the dark roast doesn’t mix right with that.”

“I like to use evaporated milk in my coffee, my grandmother used to drink it that way.”

And so James would pass away the hours.

While looking for a sugar free fruit spread he noticed the love of his life over by the canned meats. At first glance he noticed the shapely legs and that she appeared to be wearing only a white T-shirt and sandals. Surely she was a ghost and if he blinked or looked elsewhere she would vanish. He blinked and a second, closer look revealed she was middle aged like himself   . Unlike his beer gut she had a belly dancer’s waist . After getting a jar of Simply Fruit and moving closer he noticed she had on gym shorts almost totally hidden by the T-shirt and wore a silver chain necklace which contained a simple heart shaped locket. It was obvious she had spent the years walking up the stairs instead of using the elevator, drinking green tea instead of Long Island iced teas and and just doing right. No matter what potential emotional baggage she could be packing, there would always be that  presence that would attract flirtatious one liners. James knew, she hadn’t been hardened by the realities of life which anyone could see in the relaxed way she smiled. James also knew the likelihood of having any common interest with the woman would be low. That didn’t stop his fantasy. Not having the nerve to ask her where the organic sugar could be located he walked past and headed towards the frozen goods. He was stopped in his tracks when she asked.

“I really wanted to try this new casserole but have you ever seen such ridiculous prices for sardines?”

James froze and to this day for reasons he still hadn’t discovered replied with, “I don’t really like sardines,” and kept on walking without waiting for an answer, acting like a shop lifter escaping a close call with security. He had to calm himself, regain his composure, raise his stature, elevate his ambition, come up with a veiled apology and most of all make up for his woeful reply.

After getting a generic pack of ice cream sandwiches, James regrouped with what he thought would be the best approach. He found Ms Tee and her too perfect legs at the checkout counter. Just before James took his chance he noticed she wasn’t alone.

It didn’t make sense. There could be no way she could be with this guy when she could be with me, James thought. After the temporary insanity passed, James calmed down and laughed about the moment, even though he as unhappy as a visiting preacher without pulpit seat. He proceeded to the checkout with his unsatisfying purchases of sweets and took one final look at the love of his life. James shook his head and thought of the words of the philosopher Badu, “Maybe next Lifetime.” Recovery from this disappoint would be slow. After he walked to his car and began to drive away he noticed the couple with Ms Sardine Casserole at the wheel. What type of guy could he be sitting in the passenger seat being the weakest link but at the same time keeping company with someone of such high quality, while he headed home forever alone. Why hadn’t he been prepared for that first time impression that could free him of his isolation from true companionship. Why had he wasted so many years trapped in the same maze. He could only shake his head and think more appropriately this time the words of the great sage Bootsy “If we could Vanish in our Sleep.”