My Life as a Doormat (in Three Acts) (17 page)

Marilyn pointed to three long lines up front, where impatient patrons stood by their overfilled shopping carts.

She handed us each something to buy. I got sunscreen.

Cinco received a car magazine and a candy bar.

“I will be watching each of you. As soon as you step up to the cashier, your time will start. By working together and causing more conflict, you should be able to stay there for quite some time. Whoever stays there the longest wins.” I glanced at Cinco. This guy could pitch a tent and stay all night. I was going to have to ambush his plans. I could live without Mangalos. I'm not sure I could live with knowing I'd intentionally made people late. If Cinco wanted to eat there so badly, heck, I'd buy him dinner. “All right, folks, pick a line.”

I watched Glenda drag Carol toward one of the front cashiers. Robert and Ernest stepped to the left. Cinco motioned we should walk to the one in front of us. I stepped forward, clutching my sunscreen.

We stood silently. After all, we weren't supposed to know each other. I moved forward, inch by inch, as the cashier whizzed products by the scanner, throwing them into paper or plastic, all the while appearing to care about the person on the other side of the cash register. I was impressed with her ability to offer a genuine smile amid the chaos. My heart trembled and thumped as I tried to imagine myself haggling over five pennies. Once, I'd actually left a store five dollars short because I didn't want to hold up the line. On more than one occasion I've handed people money in line because they'd realized they were short, and I didn't want them to be embarrassed. I once gave a man a twenty, because he'd forgotten his wallet.

I closed my eyes, trying to figure out a few things I could say that would sound reasonable. Was there any good reason to hold up a line for five cents? I honestly couldn't think of one. So I decided I was just going to have to play a nut. I wondered what the other teams' tasks were. Poor Carol. The woman had to be dying a thousand deaths.

“Move it along, lady,” I heard from behind me. I opened my eyes and noticed that I needed to step forward. After the woman in front of me, I was next. I glanced back at Cinco, who must've thought he'd landed a role on Broadway, what with how seriously he was playing his new character. I tried to smile at him. He didn't smile back.

Luckily, our line hadn't grown too much longer. There were only two people behind Cinco, and they looked to be together.

Every beep indicated I was one grocery item closer to being burned at the grocery store etiquette stake. I cleared my throat and balled my fists up, trying to get a grip. Cinco was right. I was never going to see any of these people again. They were all strangers, so why not pour my heart into this and see what happened?

The customer in front of me finished and the cashier, whose name tag read “Mindy,” smiled appropriately at me. I handed her the sunscreen and then heard from behind me, “Oh, my heavens! Leah Grace Townsend, is that you?”

Chapter 14

[She digs for change.]

M
y forehead burst into a full-fledged sweat. I slowly turned my head and there, standing two people behind Cinco, in my line, was Renalda Musgrave, my mother's longtime Washington, D.C. friend. When Dad was a senator, they'd done everything together, including raise children. Renalda's daughter, Castilla, was a year older than me.

“Mrs. Musgrave,” I said. “What . . . what in the world are you doing here . . . in Boston?”

“We moved. Hadn't you heard? Your mother must not have told you. We've only been here about a month.”

“Oh. That's nice.”

“In fact, I'm having lunch with your mother next week!”

Mindy said, “Four dollars and eighteen cents.”

I jammed my fist into my handbag, trying to find that floating five-dollar bill I knew was in there.

“How is everything in your world?” Renalda practically hollered. “Your mother said that the playwriting thing is working out for you.”

“It's fine,” I managed, finally finding the five-dollar bill. I realized I should've taken longer doing that. But right now, I wasn't exactly focused on the task. I handed it to Mindy. “I'm working on a new play right now.”

“That's wonderful to hear.”

I glanced at Cinco. He looked a little nervous himself, but it was probably only because I was distracted from the task.

“Well, Mrs. Musgrave, it was so nice to see you.”

“Castilla's doing fine,” she continued, stepping to one side so I could still see her. “She's at Harvard. Did you know that? She was always the smartest in the family. And Doug is working on Wall Street.”

“Good. Great. That is wonderful to hear. Please say hello for me.” I looked at Mindy, who was counting out the change. I cupped my hand, and she handed it to me.

“Thanks.” I smiled. I took the change and plunged my fist back into my handbag. I started to walk off. After all, what kind of insane task was this, anyway? But then, every reason I had for coming back to the stupid class washed away the good sense I wanted to hold on to. I pictured polite and courteous Dillan, smiling at all the right times, making sure everyone felt as comfortable as was humanly possible. The change, wet from the sweat on my hands, seemed to burn right through my fingers.

I felt for the nickel. I dropped it into my bag and my hand reemerged with the rest of the change. Cinco handed over his merchandise, his eyes urging me to get on with it. “Excuse me,” I said. I could sense Mrs. Musgrave and the others watching me.

“Yes?” Mindy asked.

“You shorted me five cents.”

“No, I didn't.”

“Yes, you did.” I spread my hand and showed her the change. Out of the corner of my eye, near the front door, I could see Marilyn with her stopwatch. “You owe me five cents.”

Mindy frowned and looked confused. “I just counted it out. Maybe I dropped it.” She stepped back and looked around her feet, then scratched her head. “Okay, well, if you can wait a moment, let me check this man out so I can open the register again.”

“No!” I said. The people in line behind me all stopped moving, including Cinco. I tried a friendly smile toward Mrs. Musgrave, whose own smile became drenched with concern. “I, um, I don't have time to wait. I need that five cents right now.”

“Lady,” Cinco chimed in, “it's five cents. For Pete's sake, let it go.”

“I am owed five cents, and I am not going to let this store cheat me out of it.”

“Ma'am,” Mindy said, her pleasant demeanor fading by the second, “we were not trying to cheat you out of anything. I just can't open the register unless there's a transaction made, so if you'll let me check this guy—”

“I want to speak with the manager.” I remembered my mom saying that once.

“Why?” asked Mindy, as genuinely confused as a person could be. I felt so sorry for her that I just wanted to rush around and hug her and tell her she was doing a great job handling the wicked witch of west Boston.

“You're insinuating I need to buy something to get my change back.” I was on a roll now.

“Lady,” Cinco said, “just let her check me out. You can get your five cents back then.”

“No,” I said. “I have a right to my change now.”

The line had grown longer, and a couple of people near the back stepped away to find another one. Mrs. Musgrave's mouth was hanging open. I tried a reassuring smile again.

Mindy looked at the customer service desk, then checked her watch. “Ma'am, my supervisor is on break. She won't be back for another ten minutes.”

“Then I'll . . . I'll . . .”

“Wait?” Cinco blurted out, throwing up his arms. “That's ridiculous! Nobody here wants to wait for you.”

Suddenly, Mrs. Musgrave was rushing toward me, waving a nickel. “Here, darling. Let me just give you a nickel, and this can all be resolved in a friendly manner.”

I reached out to take the nickel, but Cinco swatted at my hand. “Ma'am,” he said, addressing Mrs. Musgrave, “you are a very kind woman. But this lady doesn't deserve to be bailed out. She's acting like a completely spoiled brat. Who in her right mind would make all these nice people wait for a silly nickel?”

A large, disapproving groan came from the line, and I felt a small piece of me die. I tried to engage each angry gaze to show them I really was just a normal person like the rest of them, but nothing was reciprocated. I glanced to my right. Carol and Glenda were out, evident by the public tongue-lashing Glenda was giving Carol. Ernest and Robert, however, were hanging in there. Cinco noticed too, and though he maintained his accusatory expression, I could somehow see encouragement in his face.

So I did the only thing I knew to do.

I started crying.

Mindy's hand slapped her mouth. Mrs. Musgrave reached her hand out like that might help somehow. She never actually touched me, but at least she wasn't cowering away. And as for the rest of the line, they looked to be praying for a Prozac salesman to happen by.

“If you must know,” I said directly to Cinco, “right before my favorite uncle died, he gave me a nickel, and to this day it signifies how much he loved me.” I swiped at a tear.

The next thing I knew, in an amazing reversal of public support, everyone had pulled out a nickel and was handing it to me. When I opened my hand, six shiny silver nickels gleamed in the light. “Thank you.” I sniffled. I dropped the nickels into my handbag and clasped it shut. Then, with a steady turn on my heel, I marched off in the direction of Marilyn. I noticed immediately that Ernest and Robert were still in line.

I didn't care. If that had gone on much longer, they could've certified me mental and locked me away.

“Ma'am?” I heard.

I could hardly make myself turn around. When I did, Mindy handed me a sack. “Your sunscreen.”

“Oh. Thank you.” I smiled ungracefully and continued on until I reached Marilyn. I wanted to collapse into her arms.

Marilyn was writing something down on her clipboard. Glenda and Carol stood close by, clearly ignoring each other.

“And to think I did all that and won't even get free food,” I growled, hoping never to have to see or touch another nickel for the rest of my life. Cinco was behind me soon enough. He patted me on the shoulder.

“You did good, kid.”

I shook my head. “That was the most horrible thing I've ever been through in my life.” We all watched as Ernest and Robert left the line. Robert was grinning like he'd won the lottery. Ernest was trying to look enthusiastic, but his skin was pale and he looked like I felt.

“Hand it over,” Robert said, opening his hand up right in front of Marilyn. “That was way too easy, if you ask me.”

Marilyn was jotting something on her board, but she said, “Robert, some of these tasks will be easy for some and harder for others. But rest assured, you will be stretched at some point.”

“Sure, whatever. Just give me my prize.”

Marilyn said, “Actually, I hate to break it to you, but Cinco and Leah won.”

“What?” Robert looked ready to make a spectacular spectacle of us. I wanted to crawl inside Marilyn's tunic and hide my face.

“Sorry”—she shrugged—“but even though you finished last, Cinco and Leah win. They started before you and beat you by eighteen seconds.”

Cinco encircled me in a bear hug. I didn't know what to say. Carol's shaking hand reached to pat me on the shoulder. I felt like I'd won the Ironman Embarrassment Marathon. Marilyn handed a certificate to Cinco, then another to me.

Then she began going down her list of observations for each team, what everyone did right and what everyone did wrong. I hadn't realized there was a right way and a wrong way. It all just seemed freakishly unnatural.

I listened quietly until Marilyn finished and we headed back toward the van. Suddenly Cinco sidled up beside me and said under his breath, “What do you say we go celebrate our victory together?”

As I rode the elevator to my floor, I was still trembling from head to toe. In the car on the way home, I'd tried listening to classical. I counted backward from twenty-five, one hundred, one thousand. I did deep-breathing exercises. But my chest hurt and my mind reeled.

I'd actually said yes.

I'd said yes.

“You said yes.”

Yes.

Unbelievable. We'd set a time. We would meet at Mangalos tomorrow night between seven and seven fifteen. I thought that was funny. I'd never had a fifteen-minute window for dinner before.

“It's just a celebration for winning . . . winning . . .” Whatever it was we won tonight. I still couldn't believe I'd actually done it.

I also realized that I had started talking out loud to myself, which was extremely scary. That was something I never did, because I was completely aware that if I said out loud what was in my head, I would probably be locked up. It wasn't an insecurity. After all, I'm a writer. My characters are birthed out of fantasy and imagination. But I always knew that whatever the process was, it should be kept inside my head.

As I unlocked the door to my apartment, I mumbled to myself about what an idiot I was to accept Cinco's invitation. A ringing phone interrupted me. I raced to the closer phone—in the kitchen—to answer.

“Hello?” I said, catching my breath. Why was I out of breath? It must've been all the mumbling I was doing.

“Leah?”

Edward? I checked my watch. It was almost ten. He should be in bed. “Edward, what are you doing up?”

I could hear him sigh. “I couldn't sleep. I'm worried.”

“About what?”

“You.”

I set my stuff on the counter and moved into the living room where I clicked on a light and sat down. “Why?”

“Something's different about you, Leah. I don't know what it is. But I'm worried.” Edward sounded genuinely concerned.