Chapter 5: 5 ~ Suffer for Fashion

I’m not sure what exactly the worst thing about grocery stores is. Perhaps the tepid music piped in through a shitty speaker system high overhead? Maybe the sheer overwhelming amount of things for sale, deliberately trying to daze you into some kind of consumptive stupor?

No. As always, in the end it was definitely the people.

I nervously picked up another tube of toothpaste, and then put it back on the shelf like I had determined that this one of the five hundred on display did not suit my unique dental needs. Meanwhile, my eyes darted to the side, keeping track of the other person standing further down the aisle.

I’m not sure what the lady was doing. In a grocery store you’re supposed to buy things and leave, right? Not fucking stand around in the toiletries aisle so long that you legally acquire squatter’s rights.

Finally, she moved on, pushing her empty - EMPTY - grocery cart past me. I kept staring at boxes of toothpaste because I wasn’t sure I could look at her without screaming. And then as soon as she exited the aisle and was out of sight, I spun on my heels and scurried over to where she had been.

One last check to make sure the coast was clear on either side, and then the treasure was within my grasp.

See, this part of the aisle housed a disorganized collection of health and beauty supplies that for whatever reason had been put on sale. The last time I visited the store, I had been walking by and happened to notice that right there, in between the jalapeño-avocado facial scrub and the extra-strength cotton balls, was a particular item that didn’t quite fit…

A 2-in-1 nail polish and top coat package. All the other stuff was obviously junk, but the label on this beautiful treasure clearly indicated that it had ‘25% more sparkles!’ And indeed: the polish itself was a very good shade of dark blue, with these glittery flecks of silver that complemented it excellently.

It’s not like I had any idea what a top coat did, but that seemed important too? If I was going to do something, I was going to do it right.

To explain: after my last conversation with Cerise, I started thinking about some small step that I could take. You know, to provide plausible deniability if she started asking questions for some reason? And immediately, this particular item had flashed into my head again. I could only credit my excellent memory. It’s not like I had thought about the nail polish that much in the two or three weeks since I had last been here.

It would be perfect. Nail polish was distinctly feminine, but also something that boys wore too, sometimes. If anyone made a big deal about it, I could simply laugh at their crude reliance on antiquated gender norms. Heck, I’d practically be trolling everyone just by wearing the stuff.

I couldn’t wait.

Honestly, I was just lucky that it was still here when I returned. Clearly no one else who shopped in this consumer dystopia had anything approaching good taste.

I pulled it off the shelf, and not a second too soon. As someone else turned down the aisle, I hid the polish in front of me and quickly walked away. The hard part was over, and as I got closer to the self-checkout lanes, they were completely empty.

Perfect. I grinned in preemptive victory and—

“Oh, sorry, sir!” someone in front of me chirped. A teen stepped in my way, wearing one of those dorky vests that showed her to be an employee. “We’re undergoing some technical service difficulties and the self-service lanes are currently closed. I can check you out over at register six though!”

I froze in place, my eyes darting from her, to the empty self-checkout stations, and then her again.

“Sir?” she repeated.

I grimaced. “Sure,” I muttered.

“What was that? I didn’t quite catch— Oh!”

I had already stalked off towards register six. I sat the polish down on the conveyor belt, and then in a moment of blind panic, I grabbed at a magazine from the rack to set on top of it, so no one could see. I just needed to be chill. Act normal. This was a normal exchange of currency for goods and services. No prob.

When I glanced down, I realized that the magazine I had thrown on top was a Cosmopolitan, and some model with perfectly windswept hair and a floaty white robe stared back up at me. Emblazoned across her chest were the words: “23 tips for embracing your inner goddess!”

The good news is, the sound of sheer panic that I made wasn’t audible to the human ear. I’m pretty certain I had managed to terrify any dogs in a large radius though.

I reached out to yank the magazine away, but as soon as I picked it up, the girl from before had materialized in front of me, taking it right out of my hands. She casually ran it through the scanner, setting it down on the belt at the end of the register, and then reached for the other item.

I shut my eyes. Just one more beep, then I‘ll pay for this, and be on my way to go set myself on fire.

Just one beep.

Just… one…

As more and more time passed without a beep, I cautiously opened one eye.

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The girl was frowning slightly, waving it in front of her scanner. “That’s funny!” she said brightly. “It’s not wanting to read it.”

I glanced behind me, and of course someone else with a cart had pulled up, waiting their turn in line. They weren’t really paying attention. Thank god.

But since I was looking backwards, I didn't even see when the girl ringing me up reached over to pick up the phone receiver next to the register. I just realized when I heard her voice over the intercom system. In fact, the whole store heard.

“Could I get a price-check at register six on nail polish?”

My face had to be bright red at this point. I checked behind me again, and now there were two people waiting. Both looked over with the kind of brainlessly idle interest you only got from grocery store patrons and dairy cows.

I looked back at the girl, but I was so demoralized I couldn't even muster up a good death glare. Instead I kind of forlornly blushed at her, watching as she idly turned package over in her hands to look at the back of it.

Since I felt like I was already going to explode, I figured that I couldn't make it much worse. “It, uh, it was from the sale aisle,” I mumbled.

“Oh yeah?” The girl's eyebrows furrowed. “Hey, this is a pretty good deal! Did they have any more?”

“I think so,” I said. As a moment of silence stretched out, I awkwardly tried to fill it. “I, um, like the color a lot too.”

Now she was smiling at me?

"Yeah, the blue is a great look," she said.

I smiled back.

"I don't know if the brand is that good, but I figured I'd give it a try," I said.

She nodded. "I have some of this at home and have always liked it. Bet you will too. But be careful not to get lured in by other pretty colors because it's usually quite a bit more expensive."

"Noted," I murmured.

Here's the strange thing? It was like sort of like I had suddenly turned a corner. It still felt ten degrees too warm in this hellhole of a grocery store, but either I had gotten so comprehensively embarrassed that my conscious mind had departed for a higher plane of existence (very possible), or else the girl not being weirded out by my purchases had given me back some measure of security. I don’t know what I had done to deserve that - it’s not like I have much in the way of positive karma going for me. But I wasn’t going to turn it down, either.

Another older lady in the same employee vest appeared, trading places with the girl behind the register, who gave me a wave and wandered off.

“Let’s just see here,” the new lady said, pushing her glasses further up her face to peer at the register. Painstakingly, she punched in a series of numbers as politely waited. I could hear very clearly when the guy behind me in line coughed, and even though I wasn't sure if it was just a cough or one of those 'move-it-along' things, I shot him a quick glare, which this time worked just fine. He looked away, appropriately abashed.

“There we go!” the lady said. “That will be… $12.94.”

“Thanks,” I said, at a perfectly normal volume, and jammed my credit card in the reader. The receipt started being printed and I shoved the magazine in a plastic bag.

She was still holding the polish. I had to wait for the receipt to print, her to tear it off, and then to turn to me.

“Here you go. You have a good day now, sweetie,” she said, handing the package and receipt to me.

I’m certain that my face was still quite red, but I gave her a genuine smile. “I will.”

As I turned and hurried towards the door, I almost ran into the teen from before. She was walking back towards the register, another box of nail polish in her hand. As she saw me, she grinned.

“Come back in when you’ve had a chance to give it a try! We can be nail polish buddies.”

I was still a bit tipsy from the weird circumstances and exhilaration of getting to actually leave this place. And it's only because of that, that I giggled, like a girl, as I gave her a wave on my way out.

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