The Shopper and The Checker

It was the day after a very hot holiday. The supermarket wasn't very crowded, but you could tell everyone most likely worked the holiday and now took the day off. “Well.” thought The Shopper, “At least the store isn't crowded.” Navigating the aisles, he remembered this was the store where The Checker worked.

He really liked The Checker. He was alluring and beautiful in his own way. Some people probably would find The Checker unattractive, but not The Shopper. To him, everything about The Checker was charming. His dorky grin, his slightly crooked (but very white) teeth, the amber-hued stubble that gave away his unnatural hair color, his crooked soul patch, his richly tanned skin that was probably very white at the beginning of summer, the watch he wore that was easily two sizes too big, and the large gemstone bracelet on his other slender wrist. He was just cute. Cute and goofy and a little clumsy. With a big apron on. Absolutely perfect.

The Shopper got what he needed and looked around to see only two checkstands open. One of them was staffed by The Checker. Four people were waiting at that stand – two at the other one staffed by an angry woman he didn't want to deal with. “Damn. I'll take a lap and check back.” He wasn't going to let go of his chance to interact with The Checker, even if it meant carrying frozen food around an overheated supermarket in the middle of summer. Nobody would catch on...they would just think he needed more things.

Returning to the front of the store, he noticed the line had gotten longer. Longer? How could that happen? One more lap should do the trick. He rounded the vegetarian frozen goods. “When are they going to restock the tofu corn dogs? They are too good to not carry!” he thought to himself as though to prove to some imaginary friend in his neurosis that he wasn't thinking about The Checker. It was a thinly-veiled defense and failed quickly. He jogged to the front of the store.

The line was down to two people. Awesome. Time to jump in.

He had plenty of time to observe The Checker from the back of the line. As he got closer he could notice a faint scent of cigarettes covered up (unsuccessfully) by cologne. He loved that. This innocent checker had some otherworldly meanderings that defied his nerdy exterior.

He had to know what it was like to actually have a conversation with this guy. In times past, The Shopper would just stand there numbly, take the receipt, smile and leave. They had to chat this time. He had to find out, one way or another, if The Checker subscribed to his particular brand of intimate arrangement for certain. How could he do this? How could he find out in the 5 minutes they would have together without giving it away and/or creeping The Checker out? He needed to shop here – it was the closest store to his house. How could he accomplish this and be able to show his face in there again? How??

The bracelet.

He could ask about the bracelet. This would start a conversation. It was too perfect! Based on the enthusiasm of his response he would know if it was safe to proceed. Fantastic!

“I like your bracelet.”

“Thanks.” he flashed a goofy grin. “My girlfriend got it for me at Lake Havasu. She goes every year with her family. The stones are real and stuff.” The Checker poked at the stones with his free hand while he dragged a package of cookie dough across the scanner in the other.

Girlfriend?

Right.

He had a girlfriend.

Right.

Maybe he did, that was altogether possible, but it was probably for show. A decorative faux-girlfriend. A girlfriend wall-treatment. Some sponge-painted wisp of a woman buying him gaudy bracelets from Lake Havasu that only further confirmed his fruity tendencies to the world.

He could picture her. She was like sugar-free Crystal Light. Sweet and pleasant but lame as hell.

The receipt clacked its way out of the ominous, gray box on the counter. “Okay, so, here's your receipt.” said The Checker with that grin again. That toothy grin. God that grin could make The Shopper a puddled mess on the floor if he let it. He reached up to take the receipt from The Checker and for a brief second their eyes and hands met.

Something snapped.

It was as though the entire life they could share together spun wildly in the narrow crevice between them like a cyclone, drawing them together with its furious imaginative energy. Shopper and Checker stood there, gazing into each other's eyes, fingertips touching, for what seemed like hours.

Just as fast as it started, it died. Music crescendoed, blurry shots came back into focus and The Checker went back to being The Checker. The Shopper just as quickly reduced back to a random person coming in for some odds and ends.

“Have a good one.” said The Checker with his trademark grin.

“You too.” said The Shopper with a huge smile.

The Shopper went on his way, wondering if he looked alright from the back. Chances of seeing The Checker again were slim at best. It was simply a chance encounter and nothing more. The Shopper knew absolutely nothing about The Checker in all honesty, but as the glass panel doors whirred open to a roasting summer sun, The Shopper couldn't help but tell himself:

“At another time, in another place, under different circumstances, he could have been the one.”

“Damn.”