Violent Acres

For me, grocery stores are a bad luck. Too many times to count, I’ve unexpectedly been forced into confronting my past among jars of tomato sauce or packages of raw meat. Confronting a teacher who may have been mean to you is no easy task in the first place. Try doing it after you’ve both unwittingly reached for the same roll of toilet paper. But alas, unless one desires a diet that consists of nothing more than a steady stream of burgers and fries, one must periodically travel to the grocery store.

Last summer, I was at the grocery store picking up ice and a couple of other essentials for a picnic. I was late and being late for any appointment stresses me out, so I was hurrying down the aisles with a brisk, single minded purpose. In record time, I collected my items and made it to the check-out lane. There, I breathed a quick sigh of relief. Outside of making sure I had my money ready, there wasn’t really much I could do to make this part of the process any quicker. I was relishing my lack of responsibility.

Suddenly, someone playfully slapped the conveyor belt behind me.

“Well, look whose here!” a vaguely familiar voice announced.

I turned towards the sound and came face to face with Daniel. If you’ve been reading my site for any extended period of time, you would know that Daniel was my first love, my first kiss, and the very first person in the world who actually made me aware of the fact that other kids are abused by their parents, too. He was also the guy who ultimately slept with my best friend, but I wouldn’t blame you if you never made that particular connection.

“Daniel!” I smiled, genuinely happy to see him, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m working here now,” he stated, “Part time. Just to save money.”

Before I could pummel him with a barrage of questions as I gleefully indulged in a game of ‘catch up,’ Daniel pressed his hand against the small of my back.

“Guess who else is working here,” he whispered.

“Who?” I whispered back. Mentally, I went through a little checklist of people we had in common.

Oh God, I thought to myself, Please don’t let it be Renee.

“Derrick.” Daniel continued to whisper, “He’s here now. He’s the one who pointed you out to me, in fact.”

Even worse, I thought.

However, before I could even thank Daniel for the warning, Derrick popped cruelly into the picture like creepy little puppet from some demented children’s play. Since our divorce, Derrick had gained weight and shaved his head. Because of this, the pair of wire rimmed spectacles he had perched on his nose looked incredibly small against all the skin and fat. Apparently, Derrick worked in the meat cutting department and his butcher’s smock reflected that. He was covered in gristle and blood. To say that Derrick resembled a serial killer would have been fair assessment. All he needed was a trusty axe in his right hand and pair of panties in his left.

“I’d like to talk to her alone,” Derrick snipped at Daniel.

I widened my eyes and stared at Daniel intently as if to say, ‘Please don’t leave me alone with him.’ He fumbled around for a second, desperately trying to come up with an excuse to walk me out of the store, when a manager called his name. With an apologetic shrug of his shoulders, he mouthed the words, ‘Good luck’ and disappeared.

Resigned to my fate, I asked, “So….what’s up?”

“Nothing,” Derrick grunted in response, “What are you up to?”

“Oh, the usual,” I answered breezily, “Actually, I should probably get going. My ice is melting.”

“I’ll walk with you.”

“Uh, great.”

As we made our way to the double doors, I chattered cheerfully to disguise my nervousness. Despite his claim that he wanted to speak with me, Derrick didn’t have much to say. Even after I asked him a question, he would do his very best to answer me with a single word or, sometimes, merely a snort of displeasure.

After what seemed like an eternity, we made it outside. As I stood blinking in the bright, afternoon sunshine, my initial fear melted away. Clear, summer days have a way of obliterating the creepiness in any moment.

I turned to Derrick and said, “Are you happy, Derrick?”

“No,” he said, “No, I’m not.”

Unlike creepiness, sunshine is no cure for awkwardness and with a simple, honest statement; Derrick had me stuttering like a goddamn moron.

“Well….uh…I….ah…..I’m sorry.”

Sometimes, I think I could spend my entire life apologizing to the people I’ve hurt and still miss a few. Other people have asked themselves at various points in their lives, ‘Why am I here?’ I’ve never had to ask that question. The answer is obvious: penance.

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