Checking Out

Checking Out

I met Terry (with a y) in the checkout line. She was the cashier; I was the customer. This was my first visit to this supermarket. I had just moved to the area.

The moment I saw her, I thought she looked nice. Slender build, long, straight, dark hair, sharp facial features, and maybe in her late twenties to early thirties.

As I got in line, I heard her say to the elderly woman ahead of me, “Since I made the mistake, I’ll charge you only half price.”

More than nice, I thought.

After the woman left, the cashier turned to me. She had dark eyes, almost black and a flawless-looking complexion. Staring at her youthful appearance, my heart began to beat a little faster.

I watched as her slender fingers began to efficiently bag my groceries. When she was done and I had inserted my debit card into the machine, she asked if I had a telephone number for the discount. When I said it, her eyes lit up. “That’s an Oceanside number, isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

“I used to live in Oceanside,” she said.

Now it was my turn to feel excited. “Oh, yeah, where?”

When she named the street, I reeled with disbelief; her street had been part of my apartment’s complex. “When did you move here?” I asked, wondering why I had never met her back in Oceanside.

“About three years ago,” she replied.

So, that was the reason, I thought. She left before I had moved into the complex.

I wanted to talk with her some more but noticed three people had arrived in line behind me. Disappointed, I retrieved my debit card and receipt then said, “We’ll have to talk again sometime.”

I was both pleasantly surprised and shocked when she said, “I get off at four.”

Feeling an immense sense of victory, I replied, “I’ll be here.” Then placing my five bags of groceries into my cart, I headed toward the entrance.  

I couldn’t wait to return to the supermarket.

Just as I finished parking my car, she came out the entrance. After I approached, she suggested we sit at a table outside the nearby Chinese restaurant, so we could talk. I gladly followed.

“So, what brought you to Florida?” I asked after we sat.

She lit a cigarette before answering. “When my mother got sick. I came out thinking I’d be here for only a short time. But then she died. Afterwards, I decided to stay.”

“Sorry about your mother,” I said and meant it. Watching as she blew out more smoke, I asked, “So, what did you do for a living back in Oceanside?”

“The same as here, cashier.”

“And you were able to make a living doing that?”

She smiled. “I was sharing an apartment with my cousin and another woman.” I nodded, then she asked, “So, why did you come out here?”

I explained, “When my company promoted me, they asked if I wanted to take over the division out here. When I was a little boy, I once spent a couple of years living in town. I liked it a lot, so I agreed to move.”

“And Florida’s humidity doesn’t bother you?”

“Nope.”

Watching as she took another drag on her cigarette, I became curious, so I asked, “What do you think your husband or boyfriend will say if they find out you asked me to meet you after you got off work?” I wanted to determine if I had any kind of a chance with her.

Scraping the ash off her cigarette against the bottom of her sneaker, she replied, “If you’re worried, don’t be. My wife won’t be jealous.” That hit me like a punch in the gut.

I stared at her, “Your wife?” she nodded. “So, you’re . . . ?”

 “Yep!”

I sat for a moment in shock. Not that I was against her being gay. Back in California, I worked with several people who were gay, but it took the wind out of my sales when it came to possibly dating her.

“So, why did you agree to meet me after you got off work?”

She flashed a friendly smile. “First, because you’re so handsome.” That made me feel great. I knew a lot of people back in California who would agree with her. “And second, because we both have Oceanside in common.” That was true, but now our conversations would have to go in a differ direction.

“So, how long have you been . . . ?”

“Gay?” she finished. I nodded. “I knew as a child.”

“And when did you meet your wife?”

“While I was still helping my mother.”

“So, that’s why you decided to stay?” She nodded.

We continued to talk for a while. Then I asked if she wanted to join me for some Chinese food? She agreed.

It turned out, that wasn’t going to be the only time we would have Chinese food together. In fact, the next time, she invited her wife to join us. I was surprised her wife, Joyce, turned out to be as slender as she was and a blond.

From then on, we continued to be friends. They even had me over to their apartment several times for dinner. Joyce was quite a good cook. I enjoyed their company and decided their lifestyle did not bother me at all.

They even introduced me to, Cathy, my significant other, who isn’t gay.