The next time Mick and I worked together was on the following Tuesday—a few days later. While loading a dolly with cases of laundry detergent, Sweetie quickly moved past me like I was an apparition to him.
“Hey Sweetie! What’s goin’ on?” I shouted to get his attention.
“Can’t talk right now.” He said, jogging away from me as he turned his head back. “Cute girl on aisle six!”
“Hey, wait a minute! What about Samantha?” I posed to him as I threw my hands in the air.
“Thank you for showing up on time—I was worried you wouldn’t make it.” He said, now walking back towards me,
“Believe me…I was worried too.” I smiled. “How’d the date go?”
“Well, it didn’t.”
“What do ya mean it didn’t?” I shouted, looking around the store. “Samantha promised—is she workin’ today?”
“It’s not Samantha’s fault—I got lost on the way to the park we were supposed to meet at.”
“You got lost? How’d that happen?”
“I don’t know—it just happened.” He told me with closed eyes and shaking his head.
“Oh, Sweetie.” I said, shaking my head too.
“I thought she meant the park close to the hospital—but it was the one on Normandie.”
“The one right by the café you work at?” I asked. “Sounds like she picked the park closest to you.”
“I don’t know why I thought it was the other park…but she told me she was waiting there for an hour before she left.” He told me. “She thinks I stood her up.”
In my sick head, I couldn’t have pictured a funnier date scenario—Samantha believing Sweetie stood her up. I put my hand on Sweetie’s shoulder until I stopped laughing.
“I didn’t stand her up, Land.” He exclaimed, shaking his head.
“I know you didn’t.” I told him, killing my laughter. “But it’s probably a good thing—it gives you a little power back after confessing your love for her.”
“Oh, that cutie’s already on aisle six.” He pointed out while looking in the panoramic store security mirror, a smile pasted on his face. “Gotta run!”
“Hey! What about Samantha?” I prodded him before he ran off.
“She’ll get over me.” He claimed, as he made his way to aisle six.
“Well, that makes sense.” I muttered, moving my dolly to the front of aisle thirty-seven to work on a sale display after losing my Sunday off catching up on sleep for nothing.
Upon reaching my destination, I unloaded the cases of detergent then searched my smock’s pocket for a box cutter. After realizing I left it in the stockroom, the movements of several unidentified bodies in the large panoramic security mirror at the front of the store caught my eye. Three males in their green smocks—two cashiers and even my boss, made their way to join Sweetie, and even Samantha over on aisle six. The security mirror was mounted about thirty feet high and hung at a slant on the ceiling’s edge at the front of the store. It extended forty yards so each of the store’s thirty-eight aisles could be seen in it. I didn’t understand what the big fuss was about—attractive women often strolled into the store. The high school where they filmed the television show “Beverly Hills 90210” was only two blocks down the street from Frugals. I didn’t know if they were fans or what, but Ian Ziering used to come in for ice cream with some of the prettiest women I’ve ever seen. I even heard some of the actresses on the show frequented the store as well, but I was never around to confirm. It was always a nice break from the monotony of the job whenever an attractive woman shopped inside the store though. If they came into my area while I worked, it was only human nature to check them out, but I wasn’t going to drop my work just to ogle over them.
At the same moment I reached the stockroom to retrieve a boxcutter, I heard my name broadcasted on the intercom.
“Second checker, please.” Blared Sweetie’s squeaky voice. “Landyn, second checker.”
Before my role changed to stockman, I enjoyed cashiering, but when I had a ton of work to do in the stockroom, I found it stressful whenever I had to cashier too. Any cashiering I did during the weekends took away from the time I needed to set up the sale displays by Thursday—the day merchandise went on sale each week. I was only asked to cashier as a last resort—when no one else was available to. The cashiers mostly didn’t care about the job much—one even poured herself a cup of wine in an ice cream cup to sip on while she rang up purchases. I couldn’t blame her though; its repetitive nature and low pay made a day at the checkstand seem like an eternity. My boss even knew it wasn’t easy to ring purchases up for eight hours a day and turned a blind eye to her need for a libation or two. For all I knew, he probably had a drink or two with her.
When I reached the store front, I walked over to the other cashier’s line and brought the next person in her line over to my checkstand. As I carried her purchases over to my register, a short, older lady somewhere in her sixties, she thanked me profusely. She had two large bottles of Jojoba shampoo, a curler, two small bottles of nail polish remover, a bottle of skin lotion, and a box of Fig Newtons, yet didn’t put them in a carry basket—she was stronger than I was. When I placed the haul upon my checkstand and brought one of her items across the scanner, the cashier behind me began to shout.
“Hey, Land, is Nivea on sale this week?” She asked in her usual masculine tenor—a tone that even matched her looks.
“No. It goes on sale Thursday.” I shouted back.
“Whaa…Whaa…Whaaaat?” Interjected the elderly lady in my line.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am? Is somethin’ wrong?”
“I didn’t know the moisturizer was going on sale on Thursday, young man.” She said as she snatched the moisturizer away from me before I could scan it. “I’ll come back for it then.”
“I couldn’t make you do that—I’ll give you the sale price today.” I conceded as I quickly checked a copy of Thursday’s ad from my smock’s pocket to ascertain the sale price. I then manually entered the purchase without scanning it.
“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”
“I’d only be in trouble if I made you drive out here just for one item.” I reassured, while bagging her purchases. “That’ll be twenty-three seventy-seven, please.”
“Oh my, thank you so much.” She said as she peered inside in her large black purse. “I have pancreatic cancer and I’m in terrible pain when I drive these days.”
“I’m really sorry to hear that.” I replied, unable to grasp the severity of what she told me as she handed me a twenty and three one-dollar bills.
“Hold on a second, I think I have the seventy-seven cents!” She announced as she dumped the change from a small teal change purse she removed from her larger purse. “Can you help me count?”
“Of course.” I yielded as we both tried to conjure up seventy-seven cents from what had to be three pounds worth of change—mostly pennies—that she carried around in her change purse. “You sure have a lot of change in here.”
“Oh yes, I’m afraid I do, dear.” She said, her purple spider veined exposed hands trembling to count the correct change.
The sound of the coins, as she slid them one by one to me, had to sound like fingernails on a chalkboard—according to the annoyed faces of the four people who stood in my line behind her.
“Okay…here’s four nickels and three dimes, and I’ll take these twenty-seven pennies you have off your hands.” I compromised, to wrest control of the coin counting chaos at my checkstand. “That should help lighten your load a little bit.”
“Oh, thank you—I wanted to keep my quarters.” She said as she put the excess change that spilled out back into her small change purse. “I can’t believe how much change I have.”
“You might have more money in that small change purse than you do in your main purse!” I joked while she secured her change purse. “Did you want your receipt?”
“Oh yes, please.” She replied, smiling. “You can just put it in the bag.”
Once she delicately placed her mother purse upon her shoulder, I handed her the bag and thanked her for coming in. After I rang up the four remaining customers, in almost half the time it took me to ring up “Penny”, I exited my checkstand area. The very second, I put the chain back up to close my register, the main cashier barked at me again.
“Hey, Landyn!”
“Hey, Eve!” I acknowledged.
“Do you mind if I take my lunch break?”
“You haven’t taken it yet?”
“No. It’s been way too busy.”
“Alright.” I sighed, then unchaining my checkstand to reopen it for business. “Have a nice lunch.”
When Eve asked me to cover for her lunch break, it only bothered me because someone else, one of those same males who flocked to aisle six to check out a female customer, was assigned to relieve her. I was also certain that Eve not only knew I wasn’t supposed to cover for her, but if the roles were reversed, she would have forced me to have the assigned person cover her. At times, the cashiers took advantage of my good nature, and it irritated me only because I had so much responsibility at the store. I wasn’t just accountable for a single cash register like Eve was. She had been on her feet and stuck behind a register for the last four hours though, and her five dollar and twenty-five cents minimum wage cashiering gig wasn’t hard to walk away from. I wanted to get along with my co-workers and be a team player, regardless of if they took advantage of me. For all I knew, the same people I met on the way up could be the same people I met on the way down.
As I waited for Eve to return from her hour lunch break, not a single customer came to my checkstand for forty-five minutes. I even contemplated grabbing my own ice cream cup of wine as the time slowed enough to make Eve’s lunch break feel more like a maternity leave. To kill time, I started to straighten my register’s cigarette rack behind me, but a minute into this task, I heard the sound of paper towels smacking against the floor from a once towering display near the front of my checkstand.
“Ooooh nooo!” Squealed a troubled soft-spoken voice near the fallen paper towel display as its columns teetered like bowling pins and fell one by one.
“Hey Sweetie, are you okay over there?” I yelled over as the pile of paper towels grew.
“I think I’m dead.” Squealed a muffled voice from underneath the pile as another pillar fell upon him.
“Do you need any help?” I asked as I peered over and noticed a badly scuffed and worn out white Puma shoe that protruded from the pile.
“I got it. Nothin’ to see here.” He said as I caught glimpse of his disheveled mullet when it suddenly emerged from the wreckage.
Although I engaged Sweetie, he failed to look in my direction when he spoke to me. I would soon learn why when my own eyes were suddenly fixated on the galaxy that spiraled into my checkout line—a sun-kissed, slightly curled, dark brown-haired, brown-eyed, beauty. She was dressed in short blue jean shorts, with a bared shoulder white blouse and white kitten heels that complemented every single curve and her tanned skin perfectly. When my eyes finally betrayed my thoughts, she shot a smile at me that made her appear even more stunning. Although I hadn’t toppled over an entire paper towel display in awe of her, I quickly understood why Sweetie made it a point to head over to aisle six. Lost in the allure of the solar eclipse before me, I noticed I had no other customers in line, and she had the latest issue of Soap Digest in her manicured hands—a weekly magazine she could easily be featured in. She then held up the magazine to me and pointed to the picture of the man who graced its cover.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“Is this you?” She asked me.
“What?” I laughed, shaking my head. “I don’t think so.”
“That’s not you?” She asked with displeasure in her soft voice. “I think he’s so handsome.”
Her remark caught me completely off-guard and left me speechless. The men who were on the cover of this magazine were soap stars—I wasn’t in their league. As much as I wanted to exude confidence and have a witty comeback for her, I had nothing.
“Maybe in another life.” I laughed nervously.
“You know, come to think of it.” She said as she eyed the cover and then glanced at me. “You’re better looking than him.”
I expected her to laugh when she cracked this joke. When she didn’t, I scanned the store, and even looked behind me in search of a hidden camera. When I wasn’t able to confirm I was the butt of a prank, I returned my attention to her as I thought of a way to ruin the prank if there was one.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course!” She responded excitedly as she handed me the magazine to scan.
“How much have you had to drink today?”
“I’m serious! I really think you’re better looking than him!” She told me without cracking a smile. “Do you know who you really look like though?”
“I have no idea.”
“Jean-Claude Van Damme.”
“I have no idea who that is.”
“He’s in the “Bloodsport” movies. He’s really hot.”
Up until this moment of my life, I could always think of something to say to someone, but she had me completely tongue-tied. I then scanned the store again for a hidden camera, and when my eyes came across the store’s intercom, I contemplated what would be more embarrassing—my continued silence or announcing my love for her.
“I think you’re better looking than him too, though.” She said to break my silence. “Are you single?”
It all felt like a dream as my eyes searched for the reason behind the compliments—she had to be flawed. As she stood before me, I frantically searched for what was wrong with her. My eyes took notice of how her hair delicately touched both sides of her face while her bangs concealed her forehead, just a little past her eyebrows. How her silver hoop earrings only added to the immaculate structure of her face, vibrant hairstyle, and petite neck, and how her smile only accentuated her natural full lips and high cheekbones. When she inched her body away and brought her purposeful hands down along the sides of her slim yet busty figure, to inspire my imagination, a move that exposed her tanned belly button and one undone button on her short jean shorts, one thing was made absolutely certain—she was perfect.
“I’m sooo single.” I told her, caught in a trance.
“How much do I owe you?” She smiled as she put her head into her purse.
“Huh? Oh. I’m sorry. Ten forty-three.” I nervously said as I descended back to mother earth.
When she reached inside of her purse, I then realized why this stunning woman found me so appealing—she had to be looking for a discount. When that dawned on me, I felt less nervous around her and foolish. She then handed me a five and six one-dollar bills, but each time she brought her small soft right hand into mine, her touch complicated my return to reality.
“Fifty-seven cents is your change.” I said as it turned me on just to hand over her change. “Thank you.”
“I hope I get to see you the next time I come in.” She said as she extended her hand to me. “What’s your name? I’m Monica.”
“Landyn.” I stammered while I shook a hand I didn’t want to let go of. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Monica.”
“Nice to meet you to! Have a great day, handsome!”
“You too! Please come again!”
As she walked away, she smiled and waved good-bye to me. While I waved back, I couldn’t help but look through the large security mirror to check her out as she exited. After I confirmed she was one of the sexiest women alive, I turned around to see Eve, the complete opposite side of the spectrum, who just returned from lunch.
“Did you really just ask her to please come again?” She laughed as she chained up my register.
“Why wouldn’t I?” I said before I realized what she implied. “Oh…I didn’t mean it that way!”
“You’re one smooth operator.” She teased.
“Whatever.” I shot back then walked away.
Before I made my way back to the stockroom, I stopped off to talk to Sweetie, who slowly and quietly repaired the paper towel disaster area he created.
“You can finish that now—she’s gone.” I laughed.
“Did you talk to her?” He asked as his eyes widened.
“Maybe. Why?”
“Oh...nothin’.”
“No, why? Do you like her?”
“Kinda.” He squeaked as if I forgot all about his mad dash for aisle six.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve let you use my intercom if you wanted to let her know how you felt.”
“Oh no, it’s too late.” He updated me as he grabbed a paper towel roll from off the floor. “She’s outside the store now.”
I could only laugh as he still considered the intercom a viable option after the Samantha fiasco. I then left Sweetie to his own devices and finally made it to the stockroom to retrieve my boxcutter. As the rest of the day dragged on, I couldn’t help but think about Monica. How I never met a woman before who was that attractive, but who also made me feel like I was the attractive one. Although I held out for true love, it wasn’t because I thought I was God’s gift to women—I just wanted a love that stood the test of time. Why give someone a lifetime for it to only be spent unhappily? Each time Monica walked into Frugals, not only did my male co-workers but also the store’s male customers followed her around like lost puppies. How could a woman with that kind of appeal be attracted to me, unless she wanted the store’s discount? Regardless of my fears, I found it impossible not to fantasize about asking her out and having a relationship with her. I knew she frequented the store often, but since I rarely cashiered, I wondered when, or even if, I’d get a chance to talk to her again.
Monica came into the store a few more times since we first talked—I only knew that because Sweetie told me. The fourth time she made her way through Frugals’ glass doors, fate stepped in—I was working on the same aisle.
“Hey, Landyn! Where have you been? Did you hide in the back when you saw me come in?” She teased as she hugged me.
I could hardly speak when she came into my arms, and when she slowly pulled away, it rendered me speechless. She wore a short, tight, white off-the-shoulder dress that revealed the sunlight as it broke through the store’s windows to glisten off of her tanned skin. As she stood before me, I wondered if anything I said would make sense. I then noticed movement in the panoramic security mirror as the males in the store began to congregate near the aisle we shared, like vultures, all in great anticipation—of me blowing it.
“I’m rarely up at the check stands.” I eagerly explained. “I’m sorry I missed you the last time you were in. You must have come in while I was at school—I’m usually out here running around. Can I help you find something?”
“Oh, no.” She said as she placed her right hand on my left bicep. “I just wanted to see Jean-Claude Van Damme.”
Her comments left me spellbound as I wondered if she could be the one I’ve been waiting for. How could she be the one, though, after twenty-five years of being rejected by women who were far less attractive than her? Was she still working me for a discount? Then again, why couldn’t she be the one? I rarely cashiered, yet the time I did, she came into my life. Did fate and destiny now stand before me in a tight white dress? As she left her hand on my bicep, her soft cool touch left me to dream beyond what I’ve ever done before.
“I’m sure the real Jean-Claude Van Damme wishes he were me right about now—whoever he is.”
“Oh, is that so?” She said as she flashed a set of white teeth behind lips of red. “Have you ever been to the Mexican restaurant down a couple of blocks off Western?”
“La Chispa? I’ve heard great things about it, but I’ve never been there.”
“Yes! That’s it! I waitress there! You should come by for lunch one day!”
“Really? I’ve been wanting to try the food there for the longest time.”
“I’d love for you to come! I’m a part-owner! I’ll even wait on you!”
“Now I have a reason to come!” I laughed then backtracked when I thought of Eve’s remarks about my word usage. “Um…thank you for the invitation! I look forward to it!”
Although she could still be working me for a store discount, I felt a little less apprehensive when she invited me to lunch at the restaurant she partly owned. Over the next two weeks that followed, I couldn’t help but fantasize about asking her out on a date. Since I believed in fate and destiny, it was impossible to believe her compliments lacked any sincerity. I wanted to believe a mutual attraction existed between us—an appeal that became a need to explore the possibilities it presented. After that particular conversation, Monica visited the store twice a week, and each time she dignified the store’s floors, she not only sought me out to say hello, but also never asked for a store discount. This only led me to believe her compliments were not tied to twenty percent off of anything—she had to be the one I’ve waited so long to meet.
On New Year’s Eve, 1992, it was a Friday, a night usually spent in the company of friends. Unfortunately, I found myself in the company of the Frugals inventory crew instead. At the same time I punched my time card, I also imagined the sound of glass tumblers as they touched to celebrate the night’s first drink—with many more to follow. With fifteen minutes left before the store closed, I was asked to cover the lone open register. As I stood at the check stand with my mind solely on all the fun I missed out on, I suddenly heard the appreciated sound of female voices and high heels. Through the store’s large security mirror, I then watched a group of four ladies, all in different color dresses and shapes, disappear into the liquor section behind my checkstand. Ten minutes later, when they brought their alcoholic beverages of choice to my register, there were five girls—not four.
“Hey!” Monica said excitedly as she placed two champagne bottles down for me to ring up. “What are you doin’ workin’ tonight, handsome? Happy New Year!”
After her friends placed four more bottles of other various libations on my checkstand, I expected them to question Monica’s eyesight after they heard her call me “handsome”, but they just scampered behind her and toward the front of the store—apparently far too wasted to disagree. When Monica placed her hand on the checkstand next to mine to maintain her balance, I knew she was drunk as well. On the unlikeliest of all nights to see her, she stood before me dressed in a beige sparkling sleeveless evening dress with a deep V that exposed the area between her tanned breasts. As the dress slightly touched the floor, her toned tan legs could still be seen through it. As I stood there in complete awe, she smiled wildly at me in anticipation of my response.
“Hey! Happy New Year!” I responded with genuine excitement. “We get shipments every Friday, so I have to work.”
“You should come join us when you get off! We can bring in the new year together!”
When she presented a scenario that I thought only happened on eight-millimeter film, I nearly paid for all the alcohol and left with them. I waited my entire life for a moment like this and wanted to seize the moment by the champagne bottle neck. Before I could take off my smock for the last time and start my new life though, I realized I was just Landyn Lastman—I still had nothing to offer anyone. Even when it seemed my time finally arrived, even handed to me on a silver platter, my bad timing remained impeccable.
“I get off at three.” I answered in defeat. “I wish I could.”
“Party pooper!” Shouted one of her friends at me as they all began to chant my new namesake.
“If you ladies want to wait until three, I’ll show you who the real ‘party poopers’ are!” I joked as I scanned their purchases and then bagged them. “Um…sixty-seven twenty, please.”
As her friends headed to the front of the store, they challenged me to join them at three if they thought I could “keep up” with them. I would’ve accepted their challenge—the inspiration to be wide awake at three was there. I just knew after I unloaded the shipment off the truck, there wasn’t enough deodorant in stock that made me tolerable to be around. When Monica handed me four twenty-dollar bills, I found it strange they left her behind to pay for the liquor—they didn’t even offer to pay.
“When are you planning to come by the restaurant?” She asked as I handed her back the change.
“Are you working on Tuesday?”
“I am.” She said as she put the change in her purse.
“I’ll come by on Tuesday, then.”
“You promise?”
“Of course!”
“You know, I would love to date you.” She said as she placed her hand on my checkstand for balance.
“I’ve been thinking about that actually.”
“You have? Really?” She smiled widely as she appeared genuinely surprised.
“You sound surprised by that.”
“I am—I didn’t think you were interested.”
“Are you serious? I’ve been interested since I first talked to you. You didn’t have to be, but you’ve been nothing but nice to me. You even tell me things I should be telling you. I guess the real question is who in their right mind wouldn’t want to date you?”
“Awww…that’s very sweet of you to say.” She said softly as I could hear her friends start to call her. “I would date you in a heartbeat—I’d even ask you out.”
When she revealed this, my heart broke for her—it was the man who should ask the woman out. She went out of her way to come into the store to talk to me, and I wronged her by not asking her out—I had to step up to the plate.
“That will never be necessary—would you give me the honor of taking you out on a date?”
“I would love to…”
“You just made my life.” I said in genuine happiness—a joy beyond what I ever imagined it could be that felt surreal. I then continued to reveal the details of what I fantasized about since we first talked. “I have this great place I’d love to take you to. The sunsets are amazing. It’s just off the…”
She cut me off.
When I heard the dreaded “M” word, I had never been more astonished and disappointed at the same time. After twenty-five years of knowing better, I still never considered that was the reason she found herself so attracted to me. I should’ve known though—words were always easier to say than acting upon them.
“Now it all makes sense!” I reluctantly laughed as I tried to hide my deep disappointment.
“What does?”
“Well, it’s just that you could have any man you want—why would you choose to date me?”
“I’d be just as attracted to you even if I wasn’t married.” She responded in a sober tone. “I meant everything I told you. I think you’re super handsome.”
I smiled and nodded at her, but inside I knew differently. I was on this Earth too long to know that with unlimited options, I’d never be the man of her choice. I bore witness to her appeal—I watched grown men run to be near her, afraid to lose the slightest glimpse of her. If she were single, she would have her choice of pretty much any single man. I’d put my last dollar she wouldn’t have chosen the one still in college who moonlighted as a stockman at a local drug store, no matter how handsome she thought he was.
“Would you ever date a married woman?” She asked as her eyes widened.
“I’m sorry, but that’s just something I could never do.” I replied without hesitation.
“Oh well, I guess we’re both out of luck then.” She told me as one of her friends grabbed one of the two paper bags of alcohol and playfully yanked her away from me. “Guess I gotta run! Happy New Years!”
“Happy New Years!” I said then torturously watched them exit the store.
As another dream died right before my eyes, I suddenly heard a squeaky and frantic voice a few yards away from me.
“Oh nooo!” Cried Sweetie as the same paper towel display toppled over and upon him yet again.
“I think it’s time we move this paper towel display to another spot.” I suggested as I removed several rolls of Bounty paper towels off of him. “What do you think?”
When I threw off the last few rolls that covered him, I was greeted by a blushed face that was lost in deep thought as he gazed up at me.
“Good idea.” He resigned.
----------------------------------------