The old woman stared at me. She squinted her eyes and pursed her thin lips. I never thought that I would be interrogated in the grocery store, but then again, I never thought that I would be caught in such a predicament. The old woman’s name was Margaret. Such a perfect name for such a spiteful woman. Hearing a name with such age has you wondering what the story behind the name is. What did this old woman go through in her years of life? However, while standing in line with a heavy basket of so few groceries hanging on my forearm, those questions where the last things on my mind.
“Good morning, Margaret,” I said. I forced a smile on my face in hopes that her glare would disappear. It didn’t.
Margaret nodded. That was my cue to turn around and keep my eyes straight forward. I never remembered my cues on stage. Dramatic pauses can be useful when humor is involved, but when no one laughs and there is only silence, it is a dreadful thing.
It was finally my turn to ring up my food. There was only one cashier and one counter in the market. It was more like a well stocked convenience store. I had picked out some ripe strawberries. I had a feeling that Margaret’s eyes were baring into my back as I placed a can of cool whip onto the belt. It was obvious what my plans for that evening where. I wasn’t ashamed of it. We are adults; we can be together without being in wedlock. It happens all the time. And yet, I always felt as if I were defending myself.
The price came out to be eleven forty-seven. My hand shook as I handed the teenager behind the counter a twenty dollar bill. Her name was Becky. She was in my third period class. Well, at least she was when I first started working at Johnson High School in the fall. After a few months, Becky dropped out of school. Apparently, over the summer Becky and her boyfriend had a little too much fun in the back of his truck. She tried to hide the baby bump while she handed me my change. It was clear that she was very far along in the pregnancy. I’d say about six or seven months along.
I took my bag off the counter, smiling to myself as I thought of what was to happen that night. Rick was going to be happy. He always seemed to be happy. Rick smiled a lot. A dorky lopsided grin on that pale face gave me butterflies. He made me feel like I really was back in high school all over again. And what an experience that had been.
I turned and left the brightly lit store and onto the dark streets of the small town that was my new home. It was the bitter cold Tennessee air that made my eyes water. It wasn’t how my student’s parents thought of me as the town whore. I wouldn’t get all worked up over the stares from all the women in this town. Not me. Not June Parker. That wasn’t who I was. I just didn’t cry over what others thought of me. I was strong.
I stepped off the curb and onto the icy street. My destination: Rick’s apartment over the local butcher shop. From there, probably the living room to enjoy my newly bought groceries by his fire. Then from there…
Now, now, June. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, I told myself. Wait until Rick makes the first move before viciously attacking him with all the passionate kisses that have remained a day dream.
My head was so fogged. My eyes were focused on the ground to escape the wind. I didn’t even hear the squeals. I didn’t see the blaring headlights. My new destination: unknown.
