You never know what questions will kill you.
The two-tone chime is the only greeting you receive. You follow the trail of melting slush on the tile, ignoring the obligatory, fluorescent warning sign because it would never happen to you. The overhead lights whine: go home, let us rest, what could you possibly need at this ungodly hour. And you would, if you weren’t kept awake by this lingering, ever-present question.
You peruse the aisles. No reason to appear hasty. Let the cashier scratching a lottery ticket with his overgrown nail think you’re demure. You’re embarrassed at the thought, you are neither reserved nor modest, because if you were, you’d be in bed instead of examining ice scrapers for the car you don’t have.
The red, digital numbers above the crooked bathroom sign flicker. They always do this before they switch on the hour. You wonder if the cashier knows this minutiae. Of course he doesn’t. You only know because you come here every night, watching.
Waiting.
The numbers change. Three in the morning. Good. You grow giddy, your fingers clench and unclench in your damp, sweat-soaked gloves. The suspense, it’s killing you. It shouldn’t be, you know what will happen. What you’ll see. But it’s the why that bothers you.
Keeps you coming back.
You can’t wait any longer, and you rip open a bag of Corn Nuts. Your lips are covered in preservatives and there’s a kernel stuck between your first and second molar. You work at it with your tongue until the two-tone chime followed by a procession of frigid wind alerts you that it’s here.
It’s time.
You stay by the coolers, a perfect view down aisle three, and you see his loafers – impeccable condition – void of even a fleck of calcium chloride. He pauses on the twelfth tile, the beef jerky shelf obscuring his upper half, but that’s good, you like when it happens this way.
There’s a crease in his khakis, behind the left knee – oh god – was that there yesterday? It must have been. You must have forgotten.
His right foot turns, pointing toward the display case of lukewarm pre-mades. You inch closer, not too much, if you startle him, if he sees you, everything is ruined. Now you observe his puffer vest. Immaculate. The cable knit sweater is smoke gray and you wonder if it’s wool or cotton. Or cashmere, how could you not have considered cashmere?
Your mouth is dry. It’s the Corn Nuts. But you’re in the thick of it now. He steps on the thirteenth tile, and finally –finally – the panel LEDs have him in their spotlight, and you savor the moment, ready to witness this profound mystery inked on the back of his wrinkled head and – what is that?
You choke. A gurgled, horrified sound.
Oh god. He sees you. He’s looking right at you. No. No. This isn’t what’s supposed to happen.
You fall into the toiletries and if you weren’t humiliated enough you knock down a box of tampons. Do you pick them up? Of course you do. But now you’re holding a box of women’s delicacies and he’s in front of you.
He asks if you’re all right.
Oh. Out of all the things he could have done, he asked you a question. You start to laugh. The irony is too rich. Too wonderful.
Yes, yes, you’re more than alright. This is the best day of your life, you tell him.
He remarks that it’s night, and you’re wheezing now, spewing Corn Nut breath all over his face.
You can’t control yourself. You reach for his uncharacteristic herringbone flat cap – he even left the tag on – and his bald head glistens like a polished snow globe.
If he turns around, you’ll see it and – oh god – he’s backing away.
No. No. You were so close having the answers.
But his hands are raised and he’s leaving, undoubtedly questioning you even though it’s supposed to be you questioning him.
The two-tone chime declares his departure and you’ve lost your chance.
You’re significantly disappointed. You buy the Corn Nuts and the tampons because you’ve been holding them long enough to grow attached.
The cashier takes your money, and tells you better luck next time.
But there is no such thing as luck. If there was, these three minutes of your life would have been punctuated with spectacular revelation, marking you complete.
