She once again cussed the forgetfulness she had dubbed Covid-brain. What kind of person goes to the supermarket in the evening without earphones or headphones? Now here she was, just standing and looking around like an idiot, trying not to make eye contact. She’d been queueing for almost an hour and the queue was barely moving. All that time and she was still about 12 people from the counter. At least whoever was controlling the music was doing a good job. Another song she absolutely loved came on and deciding no one here cared about her, she let herself get into it, eyes closed, bobbing her head, and swaying infinitesimally.
“I take it this is your jam,” a low, amused voice remarked behind her.
She turned to find a familiar face. Brown-skinned, heavily bearded face on a lean frame. She’d seen this guy at this very supermarket a million times before, but they’d never spoken.
“Yeah, this is my jam.” She answered, deciding that talking to him beat looking at the dusty ceiling and the spider-webbed corners all while avoiding meeting the eyes of her fellow shoppers.
“Me too. In a different society, I’d be break-dancing right now.”
“Are you any good?” she asked.
“At what? Dancing?”
“Break dancing.”
“The word sublime has been used numerous times.”
She laughed. “Now I know at least one thing about you. You’re a clown.”
He laughed. “Wow. Okay, be like that.”
The queue inched forward. He picked up both their baskets and moved them then moved to stand by her side. They were about the same height, and he enjoyed looking at her expressive face as they spoke. Everything about her face from the dark skin to the full cheeks and the way her hair braids swayed as she laughed was arresting.
“Why do you think we do this to ourselves? All of us coming to the supermarket at the same time?” He asked as exhausted frustrated people around them moved miniscule distances. He could almost see the collective sighs clouding the atmosphere.
“One, climate change. You couldn’t pay me to leave the house during the day when it feels like there are three more suns glaring at Earth. So, of course, we all come out once the sun goes down.”
“Okay, I’ll accept though I’d have called it laziness. Two?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” she asked, puzzled.
“You said, one, climate change. That usually implies you’re going to list shit up. Sorry, you got a problem with cussing?”
“Fuck, no. Two.” She paused, finger gently rubbing her lower lip. “We all think the same, whether we want to admit it or not. Obviously, there’s variations but we’re a lot more similar than we think. Not in that nonsense way politicians try to sell us when they’re trying to get us to settle for some bullshit, just that there’s nothing you’ve thought that no other human being has ever thought. You know?”
“So, you’re saying I’m not special?” he asked with mock horror.
“Something like that.”
“You know what I hate?” he asked, looking at her with an intensity that got her heart racing.
“Nope. Tell me.”
“I hate it. Hate it. When some random company sends me a ‘you’re special message.’ First of all, I’m an adult I’m not special. Second, you’re already screwing me over, you don’t need to butter me up with lies on top of it. Like, just stop with that rubbish. Isn’t it enough that you’re bleeding me dry? Just fuck me over and keep it moving.”
She burst out laughing before covering her mouth with her palm when heads swung in their direction.
“Buttering you up is the equivalent of lubing up which is just thoughtful.” She whispered leaning close to him.
“It only counts as thoughtful when the intention is the pleasure of both parties. If only one party is having a good time and the other wants out, thoughtful is the last thing we’d call it.”
She nodded. “Fair point.”
They stood in silence for a beat then she started whisper singing along to the song currently blasting from the speakers.
“I see you have good taste in music,” he said when she stopped singing along.
“You’re seeing correctly.” She replied with bravado.
“Wow, not much for modesty though, huh?”
“Is that you? Mr. Sublime talking about modesty?”
He laughed. “You know they’re just manipulating us with this sweet playlist, right?”
“I know. They’re the worst. Why on God’s previously green earth do they have only half the cashiers working? Corporate greed is something else.”
“It’s the worst,” he echoed before adding with barely concealed excitement. “Now this, this is my jam.”
She coked her head, concentrating on the lyrics and melody of the new song. “I don’t know this song.” She conceded.
His face fell as he shook his head, drilling her with a disappointed look that was disproportionate to whatever faux pas she’d committed. “Come on,” she protested.
“I take back every compliment I prematurely gave. I now see the error of my ways, the folly of making speedy uninformed pronouncements.”
“Wow, add dramatic to the list of things I now know about you.”
“You know what? You should also add kind, generous and magnanimous to that list, if we ever escape this hellscape, I’ll introduce you to the joys of her music.”
She smiled. “Only if you let me reciprocate and teach you one or two things.”
She felt the atmosphere around them change and saw the way his eyes met hers with a new intensity.
“I’m an enthusiastic learner, have always been.” He said with an endearing earnestness.
“Inshallah, we escape.” She held his gaze until some mumbling behind them alerted them to the fact that it was time to move again.
She moved, shocked to find they were next in line. She let him go before her as she moved money from her bank to her phone. He was paying using gift vouchers and she heard him explain something to the cashier.
He stayed close by as she got her items tallied. When the cashier told her how much she was to pay, she stopped to ask if she was certain.
“It’s right. He had some money left over on his voucher, he said you could have it.”
She looked up, surprise on her face.
“It expires today,” he said with a shrug. “I’m those last-minute guys.”
She paid the remaining sum which was less than half what she’d expected to pay.
He helped her carry her luggage out.
“Thanks,” she said.
They stopped by the side of the door, careful not to block the exit.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “Why have we never spoken before? I’ve seen you almost every week for the last three-four years.” he asked.
“Modern society is messed up?” she offered.
“Yeah. I’m going like that,” he said pointing in the same direction she was going. “How are you going?”
“Same, but I have a friend picking me up.” She answered.
“Oh, okay. Can I wait with you?” he asked.
“Yeah. He’s about five minutes away. Oh, wait, there he is.” She said, perking up.
He helped her carry her stuff to the ca. She walked to the door then turned to face him before opening it.
“It was nice hanging out. I’m Stephen by the way.”
“Brenda,” she replied.
“Brenda, does it count as fighting the man if you give me your number and I call you up and we start talking to each other like normal people?
She laughed. “I’m going to say yes, but only because I have a vested interest in proving my musical taste is superior.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” He said with certainty.
“Delusional much?”
“Competitive much?” he said laughing as he handed her his phone. “Can I have your number, please?”
She nodded, already keying in her number.
“We need to move, I’m on the road.” whoever her driver was said.
She handed him the phone, laughing as she slipped into the front seat.
He stepped back. The car started pulling out.
“Hey Brenda,” Stephen called, and she turned, lingering laughter lighting her face up. “I’ll call you.” He said dialing her number.
She looked at her phone and burst into laughter that carried up to him, warming him up as the car drove off.
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