Not Perfect(39)

“Hi! I just wanted to let you know, I got the bread before I came in,” she said, holding it up for him to see.

“Oh, okay, no problem,” he said. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you.”

“I was away for a little while,” she said. “I don’t know where I was.”

She had to keep moving. Seeing Marlon and having him be so kind was not helping her pretend. She felt the burn of tears behind her eyes and faked a sneeze.

“Bless you,” he said.

Now she was having trouble holding back the tears. They spilled out and she wiped them away, looking in her purse for a tissue, but she saw the basil and sensed a sob building deep inside her chest.

“Be right back,” she said, and walked away toward the produce section. Why did she think this was a good idea? She sensed Marlon’s eyes on her. He had seen her in much worse situations. Like the time Fern had just learned to walk, well, really, she had just learned to run, and Tabitha was checking out. She had a huge pile of items on the belt, and Fern got away from her for one second, really, it was one second! And when Tabitha looked up, Fern was outside the store, on the sidewalk! And moving toward Spruce Street. Tabitha screamed and ran, leaving everything. When she got to Fern, she couldn’t breathe. Fern was fine. She might never have run into the road: she seemed to sense the division of sidewalk versus street even then. But Tabitha was traumatized. She could have so easily gone back into the store and finished. But she didn’t. She just picked Fern up and walked the one block home, leaving milk and cereal and pounds of sliced deli meats on the belt to be put away by someone else. What did they even do with meat that had been sliced for someone but not bought? She didn’t go back for a while—weeks—and when she did, nobody said a word.

Then there was the time Levi had to go to the bathroom so bad. He was about four, and they could not have made it home. The store had a strict no-bathroom policy, but Tabitha carried Levi in and begged. She was near tears that time, so worried he would have an accident and be afraid to leave the house without a diaper in the future. And they let her, they led her right through the employee-only door to the bathroom, smiling, happy to help. She had seen other desperate people, adults, beg to use the bathroom, and they always said no. They had always been especially nice to her.

Now she stood over the bananas. They offered two choices—organic and not organic. Three months ago, she would have picked the organic, not giving the higher price a second thought. But she knew she couldn’t buy bananas and a tomato, and at this point, dinner was the priority. She moved to the tomato bin. She was crying hard now. It was almost impossible to remain quiet, and even more challenging to see. She was trying to act normal. Anyone could be here. She leaned over the tomatoes, hiding her face. They all looked pink. And they were almost two dollars a pound. She chose a tiny red one at the bottom, maybe leftover from a better crop. She took a deep breath and turned. Marlon was standing there.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “You seem upset.”

“I’m okay,” she tried to say, but it didn’t come out that way. It came out all slobbery and hiccuppy.

“Come with me,” he said.

She didn’t even ask where. She followed him to the back aisle and across the store. They went through the same door she used when she took Levi to the off-limits bathroom. Then they went through one more door into a tiny, but very nice room. She assumed it was the employee lounge.

“Do you want to sit?” Marlon asked, grabbing a cup from the watercooler and filling it up. He handed it to her.

“Thanks,” she said, but she continued to stand.

“I’ve seen it all,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’ve seen fights. I’ve seen mothers curse at their kids. I’ve seen kids curse at their mothers. I had one customer who came in after being in jail for nine years. He said he was wrongly accused. He finally got out on new DNA evidence and came right here to get a Tastykake. I’ve seen it all.”

“Yeah, well, my husband disappeared and left me in my really fancy apartment with my two kids but no money, no word, no return date. I don’t know what’s going on with our cell-phone payments, or our health insurance, or my children’s mental health. Fern hasn’t been feeling well, and I’ve been avoiding taking her to the doctor. Oh, and I don’t want anyone to know, so I’m pretending everything is fine.”

She felt such relief after she said it that she had to sit down.

“Please, don’t tell anyone,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me just then.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Marlon said.

“I should go,” she said. “I’m just going to get this tomato.”

“Okay, I’ll check you out. I just want to show you something in the cheese section.”

She followed him back out, and they turned right and walked past the milk and yogurt to the cheese. He scanned the shelf for a minute and pulled out a big hunk of cheddar.

“This is good with tomatoes,” he said.

“But I can’t,” she said.

“Come on, I’ll check you out,” he said.

She followed him back to his lane. She saw he’d put a tented note on the belt saying he would be back in ten minutes. She was touched by that. She watched as he weighed the tomato.

“Thirty-five cents,” he said. “The cheddar is on me.”