Inside the grocery store, a shopping routine was quickly established with Fred falling into the practice developed during shopping trips with his mother. It was his custom to assist by requesting specific instructions regarding the item and brand required, searching the aisles for same and returning to the cart with either that item, or something he’d seen in passing and wanted. Grocery shopping was the only kind of shopping Myrtle didn’t enjoy, but she soon discovered that Fred’s routine was fun and it did seem to get the job done a bit faster. Quickly getting into the swing of it, she sent Fred hither and yon for everything from baked goods to coffee to dairy products, being careful not to send him for anything heavy in consideration of his injuries. Each time he returned to the cart with the correct item and a satisfied grin, Myrtle rewarded him with a smile and a "thank you" and sent him off again. This gave her time to read labels and browse new possibilities.
Only once did Fred err and return to her with the wrong item. She had asked for salted Premium Saltines, and he had returned with unsalted crackers. She glanced at him as he handed her the package. He stood grinning happily, his face fairly shining in eager anticipation of her approval and a new assignment. Myrtle dropped the crackers into the cart and offered the usual smile, then sent him off for frozen orange juice concentrate. She then wheeled over to the cracker aisle to change the selection herself. As she did so, she spied a box of animal crackers and it inspired the notion that buying a special treat for Fred for all his help would be a great idea. Not the animal crackers though, she chuckled inwardly. That might seem to be mocking him. She’d think of something else.
Carrying a container of frozen orange juice in each hand, Fred scurried through the store looking for Myrtle, who, in turn, had selected the shortest available line up and was patiently waiting for Fred. The cart was more than half full, and knowing that Fred couldn’t carry any heavy bags, she’d decided it was time to check out. She didn’t have everything on her list, but the essentials were in the cart and she’d find a way to shop again soon. When a puffing Fred finally found her, she gratefully took the orange juice from him and added it to the conveyer belt.
As the final items rolled past the cashier and into the hands of the bag boy, Fred became uncomfortably aware of being stared at. He turned and looked into a baleful expression on the fresh, young face of the bag boy packaging Myrtler's groceries. Fred recognized him, and the boy evidently recognized Fred, who blushed and turned away, looking for escape. Crouching slightly, he maneuvered himself behind Myrtle. He had hoped he’d gone unnoticed during the unpleasant incident in the parking lot the last time he’d shopped here with his mother. Shortly after Fred’s father had died, his mother had sold their little house in town and purchased the comfortable, frame bungalow she now occupied. Having done this, she found she was in need of some form of reliable transportation to carry her to and from town. With Superman Bill’s encouragement, she had chosen a small, red pick-up truck with which she had developed a certain rapport by the time it was worn out some years later. To replace it, she had chosen a full-size, red pick-up, on which she proceeded to lavish her affection in the form of running boards, fog lights, grill guard, very loud chrome horns, mag wheels, mud flaps and miscellaneous chrome trim and decals. As preposterous as it seemed to Fred, his fifty-six year-old mother currently owned and actively drove a vehicle that was the envy of every burly black-shirt in the county.
As if this alone wasn’t sufficiently embarrassing to Fred, it was in this vehicle that he had accompanied his mother to this very A&P scarcely three weeks ago. And it was the boy now warily eyeing Fred who’d wheeled her groceries out to her truck. As he lifted the groceries into the truck bed, the boy had enthusiastically and repeatedly proclaimed his admiration for the vehicle. When he’d finished loading the groceries, he had glanced first at Fred, then at the huge, grey-haired Flora Luckinbill and quite innocently commented that the owner of the magnificent truck was a swell fellow for letting them use it. Flora’s face had instantly turned the most remarkable shade of purple. Then she had unleashed upon the poor lad a torrent of verbal vitriol which left him a wide-eyed and quivering lump in the parking lot as she climbed into the cab and roared away. Fred had scarcely had time to jump into the back of the truck, at first thinking it likely safer anyway than riding in the cab with his infuriated mother. He now recalled this rash decision with mixed feelings, for his mother’s rather aggressive driving style and the bumpy rural roads had combined to reduce Fred to a moaning mass of black and blue. To add insult to injury, he later discovered that the dozen eggs and several tomatoes amongst the groceries had somehow arrived home unscathed.
Fred shook his head and glanced back at the boy, who continued to regard him suspiciously while loading Myrtle’s groceries into a cart. Then the boy followed her only reluctantly to the parking lot, continuing to keep a cautious eye on Fred as he went. The boy did seem somewhat relieved when they stopped behind Fred’s Toyota. However, as soon as Fred had the trunk open, he slipped quietly into the driver’s seat and just waited. He heard and felt the trunk slam shut, he watched in his rearview mirror as the boy departed and he breathed a sigh of relief when Myrtle climbed into the car.
"These are for you," she said, holding out a box of Cracker Jacks.
Fred stared at them, then smiled slowly as he took them from her. "What did you get these for?"
"For you," she smiled back. "You were so helpful in there, I just wanted to get you a little something for a reward. I hope you like them."
"They’re my favourite," he grinned. "Of course, the prizes aren’t what they used to be...."
Myrtle giggled. "Oh Fred, you’re such a card."
Fred only shrugged as he set the Cracker Jacks on the console and started the car. Then he offered Myrtle another bashful grin as he put the car in gear and headed for the exit.
Myrtle had Fred carry the bags containing rolls, bread and paper products into the house, while she lugged the heavier groceries. Then she told him firmly to sit and wait as she made one more trip to the car where she got the last of the bags, as well as Fred’s Cracker Jacks. He was so thoroughly embarrassed by his inability to carry more that he just felt like slinking home. But Myrtle was getting to know Fred well enough to anticipate this reaction and she was determined he wasn’t going to leave until she’d had the opportunity to raise his spirits. So he obediently sat waiting in the living room while she quickly put away the frozen foods and other perishables. Then she poured some milk into two mugs, put them in the microwave, picked up his box of Cracker Jacks and hurried to join him.
"I brought these in so you could have some with your hot chocolate if you wanted," she explained, setting the box in his lap.
Fred picked it up and sort of hugged it to his chest. "Thank you, but you don’t have to make hot chocolate, Myrtle."
She borrowed Fred’s own technique and pouted. "But the milk is already warm," she explained. Getting up, she gestured toward the kitchen. "I just need to add the cocoa. I thought you’d at least stay to enjoy a nice mug of hot chocolate with me before rushing home."
Fred acquiesced, of course. So once the hot chocolate was ready, Myrtle brought it in for them and settled down near Fred. Then she pulled some catalogues from the magazine rack. It wouldn’t hurt to start looking over what was available as they enjoyed their treat.
No comments:
Post a Comment