by Ellie Tandeta

 

I’m in love. I think. Actually, I’m pretty sure; she just doesn’t know it yet. She comes in every Tuesday and buys a lotto ticket. Obviously she hasn’t won because she keeps buying more. But I don’t judge, she might have a gambling problem. You can never tell until it’s too late and they have spent all their money on slots. On the other hand, she is gorgeous. She triggers my inner Frankie Valli, complete with the backup singers and trumpets.

You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you , you'd be like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much, at long last love has arrived, and I thank God I'm alive, you're just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you.

I’m just so afraid I’m going to say something stupid; that whenever she comes up to the counter to pay, all I can manage is a huge, creepy, cheesy smile. She just looks uncomfortable, like she just stepped in gum. Whatever, I know it takes time, but she’ll come around.

Oh, let me love you, baby, let me love you.

 

It’s my turn to restock the feminine needs aisle. I’m pretty sure this is equivalent

to getting eaten by Jaws. They could have asked Melinda to do it, but no. Maybe they think its funny to watch me squirm as I stack up the Kotex and tell the passing shoppers there is a two for one sale until Thursday. Duuh-nuuuh. The shelves tower over me, closing in. Duuh-nuuh duuuh-nuuuh. My face is on fire as I move slowly down the aisle, wheeling the stock cart full of pads and pregnancy tests. Duh-nuh duh-nuh duh-nuh DUUUH! Dammit. There are people in the aisle. My legs are jelly; lime flavor. I restock the aisle in record time, hurling the packages onto the shelf with the fury of a tornado. I’m done. I run, well I don’t really run, but it feels like it as I bolt to safety in the dairy aisle. Melinda is standing at the end. Laughing.

            But I survived the shark attack.

            Cue heroic music.

           

            I was ringing up my future girlfriend’s scratcher cards and Milky Way bar, singing, I Want You To Want Me in my head. I guess I started humming too loud because she looked at me, very confused. I stopped, but I couldn’t get those lyrics out of my ears. I need you to need me, I’d love you to love me. I opened my mouth to say three dollars and 45 cents, when the music just spilled out.

            “I’ll shine up the old brown shoes, put on a brand-new shirt, I’ll get home early from work if you say that you love me,” much to my embarrassment. She asked me what I just said, I said that I didn’t say anything, shoved her purchase toward her on the counter and left my station. Barry asked me where the hell I was going, so I said bathroom. It was a disaster. You know you feel like dyin’.

Damn you Cheap Trick.

           

Georgie and I have a game. We see how many people will get sprayed by the produce sprinklers in one day. I usually win. Georgie has a lot to learn. It’s usually some middle-aged lady who feels superior because she buys organic lettuce. We watch from behind the leaning tower of toilet paper. It’s the final countdown, do do do do, do do do do do. And out comes the water. She pretends like nothing happened, like it just rains inside sometimes, nothing big. Just walk away. I win again, six shoppers and a bonus for calling the toddler with the chocolate smeared face. Do do do do do. Oh, it's the final countdown. Synthesizer of success.

 

I actually managed to speak to her using real words. Well, they sounded like real words when I thought of them, when they came out they just sounded like hvvvanicedayyy. I heard Melinda chuckle behind me, so I knew I fudged up big time. But before she left she said thanks. I think. Or maybe she just coughed. I couldn’t be sure; she was already out the door. Why did He desert me in my hour of need, I truly am indeed alone again, naturally. I mean really, what else could I do wrong?

            Then I told Melinda to shut up or else.

 

My boss is a hick. Plain and simple. Black denim and chrome to the bone,
with a little home-grown. Maybe he should look around; there are no cowboys in San Francisco. He is all country. He has the pickup and everything. He even wears his cowboy hat on Sundays. I swear I saw him just a week ago walking down Geary street with spurs on his boots. One time some lady came in and asked him where my costume was and what the occasion was. Barry got embarrassed and went into the back room and Georgie and I just roared with laughter. I almost think Brooks and Dunn wrote the song about Barry, he fits it so well. Hillbilly deluxe, slick pick-'em-up trucks, big timin' in a small town, stirrin' it up right about sundown.

 

Yesterday we had one customer. He bought a pack of gum. I was so bored I put all the pennies and dimes in the register in stacks in order of year. Then Georgie knocked all the red delicious off the shelf.

Good one Georgie.

 

Melinda scares the bejesus out of me. She is the oldest, shabbiest, creepiest looking teenager I have ever seen. Totally Jeepers Creepers, where’d you get those peepers, that’s for sure. Her eyes look like they are about to pop out of their sockets, they are so buggy. She always looks mega strung out; I mean geez, ever heard of eye drops? And she wears those granny sunglasses when she goes outside for her break. The kind with like six lenses so no real sunlight will ever get through. Jeepers Creepers, where’d you get those eyes? I hope that’s not genetic. I fear for her children…if she has any. And I pray to the good lord and all that is good that she doesn’t. I would be very concerned.

 

How super sweet would it be if I could speak French? I would look into the deep green eyes of my lotto girl and say: Mon amor, je veux être avec vous pour toujours. I think about her almost every day, especially for an unexplainable reason, when I’m restocking the cereal aisle. Something about those Lucky Charms and Cheerios just does it. Weird.

 

I do weird things when no one is looking. When Barry asks me to close and sweep the floors first, I go crazy. I picture myself as Kevin Bacon dancing maniacally around the store, jumping, leaping, and grabbing at air to Footloose blasting in my head. I kick my legs and fling my arms around to imaginary the music. I've been working so hard, I'm punching my card, eight hours. For what? “FOOTLOOSE!” I scream, rolling around on the floor, air drumming. I don’t do it with the broom anymore though because last week I accidentally threw it, and it smashed three bottles of twenty dollar wines. Barry asked me what happened the next day, so I told him there must have been an earthquake. He believed me.

 

My little brother Craig came with me to work today. I told him to just read every card in the Hallmark aisle, and when he was done, it would be time to go home. Instead, he ran up and down every one screaming, I’m gonna be a mighty king, so enemies beware! It was all okay until who should come in at that moment to buy their Tuesday chance at riches? I pretended not to notice the eight year old screaming Lion King tunes over the intercom, but it is harder than it seems. Then, a miracle happened! She asked me if I knew the kid. I hesitated but decided it was in my best interest to admit it. Sure, I replied. I was expecting an ‘awww that’s adorable’ but all I got was a meek smile.

               I'm working on my roar.

 

            I couldn’t contain myself again. She came in, but it wasn’t even Tuesday. It was only Monday! I’m pretty sure I had a heart attack, a stroke, and some kind of heart palpitation all at the same time. I think I was staring because she looked kind of confused when she saw me. She walked to the grocery section. I just followed her with my eyes as she glided through the store

            You’re just too good to be true.

            I couldn’t think of anything to say. I had to say something to prevent any awkward silences. But what?

            I can’t take my eyes off of you.

            She got to my checkout station. I couldn’t make a real sentence in my mind. The words just floated around in my mouth forming nonsense.

            You’d be like heaven to touch; I want to hold you so much.

            She said hi and my heart stopped beating. I was going to make a fool of myself. I could just see it happening. Oh god oh god. Ooooh godddd.

            I knew what had come out of my lips right away. Lyrics.

            “At long last love has arrived.” Kill me now. Just strike me down with a lightning bolt and let me fry into bacon. Crispy bacon.

            But wait, what was that sound? Humming? It wasn’t me. I swiveled to face my love. It was definitely her. No doubt about it. Then I realized I was holding my breath. I let it out, but instead of air, words came out. Musical words.

            She looked right at me. Smiled. Then…

            Sang.

            “You’re just too good to be true.”

            Something electric surged through my body, compelling me to leap up onto the moving food counter. I picked up a soda bottle like a microphone. I thrust my hand out to her. She grabbed it and I pulled her up next to me.

            Together, hand in hand, we sang our duet, confessing our love through music.

            “Can’t take my eyes off of you! You’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of youuuuu!”

            The vegetable sprinklers went off like fireworks. It was like some Broadway musical finale. But better. And real.