I grab on a cold, damp handle, opening the door and setting off the bell above it. I feel a slight stick on the handle that almost conjoins my hand to the metal. As the door slowly squeaks closed, I take a few stumbling steps into the establishment. I’m listening to the pounding of rain on the dirty and blurry windows. The flickering of lights makes for an unwelcoming and alluring place. The tables are evacuated and the only other person in the room is staring at me dead in the eyes. I turned around almost hoping there would be someone behind me he was gesturing to. There wasn’t.
“What can I get for you?” he asked. I fearfully dark to his stand and look behind the display, my breath fogging up the labels. I turn around once again before clearing my throat. “Can I please try that one?” I said, pointing at one of the many options shown. “Sure!” he says in
an almost overly joyous sense. He pulls on his gloves and hands me the sample. I smell it, and without a second of hesitation I say, “I’ll take it”. “Great,” he says, “That will turn out to be $8, and…”, I cut him off “That’s fine just, here take some cash because I, uhm left my card at home”. He shrugs and I get chills down my spine, leaving goosebumps on the backs of my arms.
He gives me my order, I thank him and go take a seat at the one table out of view from a window. Although the windows are so covered in dust and dirt you can’t tell a person from a tall lamp, they would know I’d be here. They’d know I had lost my streak and forfeited my goal. For this?
I leave my hands hovering above the table to keep a safe distance from another unknown sticky substance, yet this one had a pungent spell. People have become so childish and immature when it comes to cleaning up after themselves. The shop was silent with the only sound being the churning of the machine in the back, as I was the only known breathing thing in the open part of the shop. I finish eating my order with a side of shame in a matter of 2 minutes.
As I got up to throw my trash away I went to grab my napkin. It is now an incorporated part of the table and if I leave it no one will know if it was meant to be there or not. I slightly ajar the door trying not to set off the bell once again. I make sure there is no lasting evidence of my purchase and I’m out the door. Before getting in the view of the next store over, I stop and take a deep breath. “They’ll never know”.
I enter the store with a confident stride, not letting the smell of fear and lingering aroma reach them. “Hey kids, how are the haircuts?” The hairdresser turns the chairs around and reveals 2 bald kids. I looked around to see if my kids were somewhere else, because my kids had long luscious hair, not shiny cone-shaped heads. “Hey dad,” the one on the right began to say. I took another minute staring, almost confused if I had walked into the right establishment.
“Can we go next door for ice cream?” I pause trying to make the mission I had done as discreet as possible. “Sorry kids it’s closed, it’s National Sherbert Day. I know, how dare he (dairy)”, I keep my face composed to not let my sugar rush meet their little faces. “Aw, do we have any at home?” the one on the left said. “No, but we can make a smoothie. Remember I am on a dairy-free diet”. “Fine” she said which left me with a relieving breath. I sign for my kids to start heading toward me, “Also I am not paying for this”.
We walked out and started to walk to the car. In front of my car was the ice cream place with the worker out from closing up. “Hello Sir, did you enjoy our new pumpkin spice flavor?”. My kids look up at me in disbelief. “Sorry you have the wrong guy,” I said, letting out a nervous chuckle. “I’m sure I would remember the one customer we had in the past 4 hours, but anyways have a great night”. I ignore his words and get my kids in the car. “Liar,” she says. The next thing I know I was in the drive-thru line at Dairy Queen ordering 2 blizzards for my now bald kids.
