“How are you doing today?” the employee asks as she clears the error on my self-checkout kiosk.
“I’m good. How are you?”
She responds while caressing the glass screen. Accenting eye shadow blended above her soul-searching pupils. I smile under my mask. I wonder if she smiles under hers.
Final item in my shopping bag, I select to pay, tapping the same screen as her. I’m envious of it. How her long fingers slid over, like tracing lines of a palm.
A man walks past to the neighboring kiosk. His shoulders slumped over, his chest tilting forward as if an invisible weight hangs from his torso. He scans his only item. A single bag of -preground coffee. Maybe I should inquire if she’d like to grab her own cup of coffee with me.
She asks the man how he’s doing.
He hesitates. His breathing trembles as he stumbles over a rocky word, giving the emotions chasing him time to catch up.
“I, well, um...” A breath. “My best friend just died today.”
Thoughts and Breaths
I leave the store, and yet my thoughts are trapped in the man’s words. The words of the girl, unprepared for the heft of his response. She stood by his side and offered condolences. What else should she do? What else could she do?
For some reason, my first thoughts rest with the girl. Why would someone drop such an answer on an obviously blanketed question? She asked of him the same question she’d asked a hundred people before in her shift. Few likely gave her a truly honest answer. Nobody else likely pulled her down into their emotions.
For some reason it frustrated me at first he’d do that to her. I’ve had bad days before, but I don’t expound upon it to the cashier when buying a tub of ice cream and frozen pizza. They don’t really want to know, do they? It’s not up to them to temporarily hoist my emotions. To catch the overflow I’m spilling out.
Yet the man with his bag of coffee decided to drip out onto her.
His bag of coffee.
I get to my truck on the other side of the lot as thoughts and breaths change. He was only buying a bag of coffee. Nothing more. Maybe he’d spent all night with his friend. All night alone with his friend. Maybe he didn’t have anyone else to talk to. To hug when his friend passed. To pass him a tissue when his eyes fogged from the explosion of tears. Maybe he made the slow, dazed walk from the hospital to his car, brain numb, unsure of what to do. Maybe there was nobody else who cared. Nobody, until the girl at the store.
The thought breaks me.
His emotions flow through me as a tear drips to the steering wheel. Why didn’t I offer my own condolences? Offer my own hug. Why didn't anyone else? There was just the girl in a busy store. Others must have heard. But none of us did anything.
I wonder if the girl offered a hug? If she did, would the thin protective, fragile shield around the man give and the rest of his emotions pour out? It’s hard to share emotions and to offer hugs these days.
I consider walking back to the store. To offer my own condolences. To offer my own humanity in his time of need, but I don’t. I tell myself he’s already left. He wouldn’t have stayed that long. He would have wanted to flee and get away. I don’t know if I believe any of it. Because once he leaves, it’s back to a new reality without his friend. In the store, he’s someone with a bag of coffee and a girl asking about his day. Outside he may only have the coffee.
All I can do now is hope that man is okay. Hope that he has friends and family to be with. And hope that the next time someone opens themselves up like that I do more than walk away.