“Let’s go shopping.”

“Umm, no?”

Tom walked around the couch and stood between his wife and the television. He’d shaved today, for the first time in ten days. He should have used a clipper first, trimmed down to stubble, but he’d gone right for the razor and as a result his neck was red with razor burn and he had a nick on his lip from not being able to tell where his mustache ended and his mouth began. He looked like a frantic seventeen-year-old who’d just taken his first steps down a road of misinformed, but oddly endearing personal grooming.

Lisa put her hand to her mouth. Don’t touch your face, her mind flashed. She couldn’t help it, though, the gesture hid her grin, but her laugh gave it away. “What is wrong with your face?”

“What do you mean?” Tom wiped his hand from one cheek to the other, he winced when his fingers glanced over the cut on his lip. Don’t touch your face, he thought.

“First, don’t touch your face,” Lisa said, “and second, what happened to your lip? And why are you all red? And how is your neck even more red than your face?”

“Okay, well first, I’m trying to not become a total caveman. And second, don’t mention my face and I won’t feel like touching it and, third, I shaved, obviously. I might’ve nicked my lip.”

Lisa laughed outright. “It looks like a cold sore, you look like you have herpes.”

“Ha,” Tom replied, “well then the jokes on you, because if I have herpes, then you have herpes. Anyway, we’re off topic, let’s go shopping, we need stuff, like toilet paper.”

“Tom, we don’t need toilet paper, we bought three twelve roll packs when they were on sale last week, before any of this started. We should count ourselves lucky and just stay home.”

“Lisa, it’s just the flu, we’re fine. That spin class you signed us up for is really working. We’re in the best shape of our lives. We’ll go out, get some food to make meals for the next couple weeks and, then, we’ll be fine. It’ll be fine. It’s fine.”

They did have food, but it was a lot of protein bars and quick easy meals. If they did have to remain house bound for a few weeks, they were going to need some canned goods and something to make larger meals they could freeze. She’d been watching the news all morning and the virus spread seemed to be getting worse day by day. If they didn’t get a little extra soon, they may never be able to get out. They might be able to get away with what they had, they would probably be okay, maybe. “Alright,” she said, “but stop saying fine, it’s not fine and we don’t need toilet paper.”

Tom threw his hands up in victory, “Yes, fi-, great! No toilet paper.”

Lisa smirked and shook her head. “Go wash your hands and stop touching your face.”

The grocery store parking lot was packed. They circled three times before finally finding a spot in the back. With each pass up and down the lanes, Lisa became more and more anxious. Tom could feel her mood change, hear it in the way her breath would catch. He patted her knee.

“Don’t you dare tell me it’s fine,” she said.

“We’ll get a spot, it’s f-,” he started and finished with his best open mouth, look-how-happy smile. “There’s one.”

Tom pulled into the last spot at the back of the lot, opposite the entrance. They were about as far away from the store as they could be without being off the property. Lisa sighed and folded her arms. There were people everywhere, clearly ignoring the recommendations to stay at home and avoid congregating. “This is a bad idea,” she said. “Let’s go home, we can make it with what we have in the house.”

Tom turned her toward him, he put his hands on her shoulders, but her folded arms maintained their barrier. “Look,” he said, “we’re here. We’ll be in and out, get some extra stuff, and then we’ll go home and make soup, like, homemade soup. Then we’ll freeze a bunch. So, we’re gonna need some of those little container things.”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she said.

“That’s the spirit! Let’s hear it for, FINE!”

Tom hooked his elbow out to Lisa; she took it and rested her head on his shoulder. He was an idiot, her idiot. They walked across the lot. In the lane next to them a yellow balloon bobbed up and down. Lisa looked over and watched a small girl skip across the parking lot toward the entrance. The girl was alone, but moved with purpose, she knew where she was going. Lisa watched her until she was surrounded by people moving into the store, the balloon settled above their heads and then disappeared behind the doors as they slid closed.

“Did you see that girl,” she asked Tom.

“I’m not answering that,” he said.

Lisa slapped his arm. “That’s not what I mean. The girl with the balloon, I think she was alone.”

“I didn’t, I’m sure she’s fine. I, mean, she has a balloon.”

They reached the entrance. There was an exhausted looking employee standing at the door. He had a counter in his hand that he mindlessly clicked as people filed past him. Recommendations from the governor were to limit stores to no more than fifty customers at a time in order for each person to maintain proper distance from others. It was clear the store had given up trying to control the mob. The employee, his shirt half tucked, passed a hand over his face and rubbed his eyes.

“Hey,” a helpful stranger called out, “you shouldn’t touch your face.” The stranger sneezed into his hand and grabbed a shopping cart. “Better go wash your hands, kid.”

The employee tried a half grin and gave up, he leaned against the building not knowing what else to do but click the counter.

Lisa smiled at the guy as she walked by, he tried again to smile, but only managed to click.

Tom grabbed a cart and walked into the store. Lisa followed and surveyed the scene. The doors opened into the produce department which was mostly empty of people and full of fruits and vegetables.

“This isn’t going to be so bad,” Tom said.

Lisa was dubious. “People are being told to shelter in place, Tom, to stay at home. Think of most of our friends and family. Outside of baby carrots and ranch dressing, how much time do you suppose they spend in a produce department? We, however, are going to get fruits and veg for smoothies and more veggies for soup. Then we’re going to get some broth, some containers, and GTFO.”

“I love it when you take charge.” Tom raised and lowered his eyebrows.

“I’m not kidding, Tom,” Lisa said, “the lines are gonna suck, so we need to get what we need and go.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll get the broth and containers and stuff.” Tom headed off pushing the cart.

“Stop saying fine,” Lisa called after him. She turned into the produce department and decided after picking up two packages of mixed greens and trying to balance packs of strawberries and blueberries on top that she was the one that needed the cart. She reached to get a bag for some potatoes and nearly dropped everything in her arms. She leaned forward in time to keep her blueberries from slipping and her head bumped against a yellow balloon.

“Here ya go,” a little voice said.

Lisa looked down. The little girl she’d seen skipping in the parking lot was handing her a basket. She couldn’t have been more than ten, her black-brown hair cut into a simple bob with bangs, her skin was pale with high blooms of color on her cheeks and forehead. She wore jeans and a white turtleneck pinpricked with small red polka dots, on her feet were a pair of very old and worn Mary Janes.

Lisa took the basket from the girl. “Thank you, that’s very nice. Where are your parents, honey?”

The girl giggled. “My Mother’s around,” she said and giggled again. The girl pulled the string on her balloon which bobbed down and brushed against Lisa’s cheek and then turned and skipped into the store.

Lisa put her things into the basket and put her hand to her cheek. Don’t touch your face, she thought. She watched the girl skip between shoppers, her balloon bopping people every time she zigged and zagged. Lisa watched her disappear down an aisle and then turned back to her shopping. She filled her basket with potatoes, onions, carrots, and a very out of season butternut squash. Her cheek tingled, she felt warm. She started to bring her hand up, but spoke to herself out loud. “Don’t touch your face, dummy.”

Tom stood in an aisle deliberating between two sizes of reusable containers. How much soup were they going to make? Were the containers supposed to be single serving or enough for two per meal? He was in way over his head. He started to figure bigger was better, becoming confident in his decision when he felt a static bump on the back of his head. He turned and a yellow balloon bounced off the tip of his nose. He looked down at a small dark-haired child who grinned back and giggled as the balloon came back for another bounce. He stepped back, avoiding the balloon and smiled at the little girl.

“Hi, there,” he said.

“Hi, there,” she replied.

Was she mocking him? “Where’s your mommy?”

“Where’s YOUR mommy.”

She was mocking him. He tilted his head and gave her a small frown that tilted up at one corner, disapproving, but trying to be friendly.

“There’s a lot of people in here, kiddo,” he said, “it’d be easy to get lost. C’mon, let’s find your parents.” Tom held out his hand, offered it the girl. She reached up and touched his palm with her index finger.

“Boop,” she said. “There are a lot of people in here.” She looked back and forth up the aisle and then back to Tom. “Don’t worry, my Mother’s around. She’s always around.” She scrunched up her nose and stuck out her tongue. She turned and skipped down the aisle away from him.

Tom watched her go. He felt a tingle on his hand where she had touched him, but didn’t match the feeling with the girl. He shook his head and rubbed his hand across his freshly shaved face then pulled it away with a wince when he grazed the sore on his lip. That cut’s gonna be the death of me, he thought.

He tossed the containers he’d been holding into his shopping cart. They fell next to a box of cookies and a pack of mints, the only other items he’d picked up. Lisa came up from behind him with an overflowing basket of produce and canned goods.

“Mints and cookies,” she said, an accusation.

Tom blushed. “Well, I was heading to get this Tupperware shit and just kinda blanked. You know I’m bad at shopping.”

“And yet,” she replied, “this was your idea.” She was feeling warm and was starting to lose her patience. She hadn’t wanted to go shopping, but she was trying to make it a worthwhile trip and here was Tom, not doing anything, just wandering around. She could feel herself losing her temper. She set her basket inside Tom’s cart and covered her face with her hands. She took a deep breath, brought her hands down so they just covered her mouth, and spoke through her fingers. “Can we go?”

Tom looked at his wife and knew this was one of those moments where you just said, yes.

“Yes,” he said, “let’s just get a couple of bottles of booze and then hit the road. Bourbon and vodka?” He shimmied his shoulders back and forth, silly danced, and tried to relieve the tension.

Lisa sighed. She looked up and he looked down at her with his biggest, dumbest smile.

“Fine,” she said, “you’re pouring tonight, while I sit on the couch.”

He bent down and kissed her, a small one, they both tasted the coppery tang of the cut on his lip. “Deal,” he said.

They walked together to the end of the aisle, each with a hand on their cart. Around them, shoppers were packing aisles, causing backups. Some waited patiently for things to get moving, others tried to push through the gridlock, but most just complained with varied levels of vocalization. Tom and Lisa walked past the blockages when they could and tried to be patient when they couldn’t. They were stopped at a snarl by the aisle filled with potato chips and snacks. They looked down at dozens of people crammed into an area meant to hold half of what filled the space. The shelves were almost empty and customers had started to take from one another’s carts and baskets. Tension was building; Lisa saw a man take a bag of Doritos from a cart next to him when the owner wasn’t looking. She was about to say something when, above the crowd, a balloon popped. Lisa looked up in time to see a white ribbon with a small piece of yellow rubber still attached as it fell into the crowd.

There was a moment of silence, almost complete except for a giggle. Tom and Lisa looked into the crowd, down at their legs. The little girl was making her way through the group. She had lost one of her Mary Janes and her turtleneck had come untucked from her jeans, but she still skipped. She had her hands in the air, pointer fingers outstretched.

She’d brought one arm down and thrust the other up, then repeated, switching arms, always keeping the one tiny finger on each hand pointed out. She skipped and mock discoed through the crowd toward Tom and Lisa at the end of the aisle.

“Boop, boop, boopboopboop,” she sang. She reached out and poked random people as she danced. She stopped in front Tom and Lisa and smiled. Her mouth projected absolute joy, but her brow was furrowed and her eyebrows were tilted down. She was perfect mischief. “There you are,” she said.

Tom tilted his head and Lisa cocked an eyebrow.

“Here we are,” Lisa said, “were you looking for us?”

“No, silly,” the girl said, “you were looking for each other. There you are.”

“Here we are,” Tom said.

“Okay, then,” the girls said and reached out dancing and thrust out her fingers. “Boopboop.” The couple jumped back, avoided the touch, and this caused the girl’s giggles to turn to laughter. “Too late,” she said. The girl skipped away from them, her cries of boopboop were loud and lucid in this part of the store where the balloon pop had the effect of thunder that required silence while everyone waited for the lightning to strike.

“That kid’s a fuckin’ creep,” Lisa said.

Tom turned to his wife. She had blooms of color on her cheeks and forehead, the rest of her face had gone pale. “Let’s forget about the booze,” he said. He now thought shopping had been a terrible idea, but he couldn’t just bail. At this point, though, they could take what they had and he’d worry about picking up other things on a different day.

Lisa coughed, it caught her by surprise and one got away before she was able to get her hand to cover her mouth.

“You should cough into your elbow, hon,” Tom said.

“Don’t, Tom, can we just go?”

They walked to the front of the store and stood in line. The checkouts were packed and they waited for nearly an hour until their turn with the cashier. Around them the store had calmed to a dull hush broken only by the overhead music and an occasional spasm of coughs from customers around the building. A man behind them with a cart nearly overflowing with salsa and tortilla chips rubbed his chest and cleared his throat compulsively.

Tom and Lisa paid for their groceries, thanked the checker and the tired kid who’d bagged their purchases. They made their way to their car on the opposite end of the parking lot. More cars and trucks circled the lanes, people filed in and out of the store, the exhausted young man at the entrance was now sitting on the sidewalk next to the door, he rested his forearms on his knees, his head down, the count clicker lay on the ground between his feet.

Lisa coughed into her elbow as they loaded their bags into the trunk of their car. She felt warm, but thought it only a reaction to the ordeal they’d just been through. “I just want to be home,” she said.

Tom put a hand on her cheek. “I’m sorry, hon, this was a bad idea.”

“It’s fine,” she said. “Take the cart back, I’m just gonna sit in the car.”

Tom wheeled the cart to the return. Before he got there, though, the cart stopped and bucked in his hands. He looked down. One of the front wheels had caught on a small black shoe that lay discarded on the pavement.

“Boopboopboop.”

He looked up. The little girl was skipping and discoing down the lane away from him and back toward the entrance of the store. He bent down and picked up the shoe. It was warm, almost hot in his hands. He looked up, again, and was going to call out to the kid, but, thought, fuck it, and threw the shoe into the cart and pushed them both into the return cage.

He walked back to his car and reached for the door handle, but brought his hand up to his mouth to cover an unexpected cough. His eyes watered, he squinted in pain. He’d covered his mouth fast and hard enough to open the cut on his lip.

Damn, he thought, this thing’s gonna kill me.

© 2020 milblogee.com

Illustrations by Jason Briesch @Phantom Grizzly Studios