I was in the grocery checkout line.
It was the first time I’d seen that particular checkout girl. The one who was cashiering that night in aisle five. Not the other one in aisle three - she looked like she was my father’s age. Aisle five.
I usually buy the groceries. Nobody else will.
So I do it.
My sister was on a date. Her name is Julia. I'm the only one who calls her Jules. She’s a pretty girl with a pretty smile but she reads a lot so you don’t see it much. She always meets her dates somewhere else, she never brings them home. My sister is private in that regard.
I think you would probably see her smile more if you were on a date with her.
My father is old but he’s built like a tank. He has short gray hair. He has muscles. All of my muscles put together might make up the mass of one of his arms. He has a deep, gravelly voice, probably from smoking cigarettes his entire life. Up until my mother passed away.
My father would frequently say things like - Is he gay? - if he had the slightest reason to believe that about a person he meets. Or - Is she a lez?
My father is pretty uncouth.
I didn't know exactly what my father did for a living until I was nineteen. My mother would always tell me - He works in an office.
Thanks for clearing that up, Mom.
My father builds bombs for the government. For the defense department. Clarification - my father designs bomb casings for the bombs. So they can fly better. And hit their targets more accurately.
Good for Dad.
My father brought my sister, Jules, to work one day. This was when she was ten years old. It was Bring Your Daughter To Work Day at my father’s job. Of course, the U.S. government wasn’t about to let just anyone in to see their bomb making process, so my sister spent the day with my father’s administrative assistants and didn't get to see any of his bombs. Because, you know, my ten year old sister could have been a Russian spy.
She did get to sit in the cockpit of a fighter jet, but it wasn’t real. It was a simulator. She thought it was cool anyway. And one of my father’s assistants taught her how to crochet.
My sister made a mitten. One mitten.
After work, my father brought my sister to Dairy Queen for soft serve. He told her she could have anything she wanted. Later, at dinner, she said it was - the best day ever - just like that. My father and my sister smiled and laughed a lot during dinner that night.
My sister’s friend, Natalie, was having dinner with us. Natalie’s mother was pregnant that morning but she wasn’t anymore when Natalie came over for dinner. Her dad had told Natalie - Your mother missed her carriage - that’s what Natalie told us and that’s why she was over for dinner. I didn’t know what that meant at the time, but I do now. I don’t think Natalie knew either. But she would find out. Poor Natalie.
My father doesn’t remember any of Bring Your Daughter To Work Day.
I have a friend named Davis. His actual name is Earnest Patrick Davis but he tells everyone to call him Davis. He has ice blue eyes and blond hair and is taller than I am by two inches. He is thin and agile and, unlike me, shaves every day. I’ve known him since elementary school. He’s a pretty smart guy but he likes to pretend that he’s not.
My father never asks me if Davis is gay.
The checkout girl at the grocery store has a neck tattoo of a bull. Wait, it's very possible it’s a yak.
I texted my sister to see if she thought the checkout girl was gay. My sister could spot a lesbian a mile away. My sister texted back - Does she have a nose ring? No. - An eyebrow ring? - No one does that anymore. - Apparel? - Talking Heads tee shirt, skinny jeans. Black. With rips.
My sister didn’t text back after that.
My mother died of cancer last year. Pancreatic. Also lung and spleen. I had never heard of spleen cancer but it's a thing. Big time.
The doctors also suspected brain cancer but why go through all those tests? My mother collected cancer like some people collect action figures.
My mother was a cancer smorgasbord.
My sister was into video games when she was younger. I wasn't, I was into music. I played guitar. Davis played guitar. And bass. And keyboards. And he could sing. He would come over and we would try to write songs together.
Davis was always nice to my father even though my father would only grumble - Hello, Davis. Davis would call him sir and shit like that.
My father never did the grocery shopping. My mother always used to do all of the shopping. And she did the cooking and cleaning. And she had a job. And she had a bunch of friends and a busy social life.
My father didn't have any friends of his own but he knew a lot of people. He would always answer the phone - Oh, hi Chuck - or - Oh, hi Mary - and chat a while before relinquishing the phone to my mom.
My mother was a petite woman. She was very attractive. She had longish, brunette hair - from a bottle - she used to say. When I was a kid, I thought my mother would drink some magic potion everyday to make her hair turn brown.
My sister, Jules, inherited her good looks from my mother, obviously. Once, when they were in the mall, a store clerk mistook them for sisters. My sister said that he was joking. My mother disagreed. My father grumbled at that.
I suppose, when it came to looks, I got more of my father than of my mother.
Except for the muscles.
Did I want spearmint or peppermint gum? I always add a pack of gum when I wait in a checkout line. I have a habit of chewing gum if I feel a headache coming on. Probably because I clench my teeth a lot. At least, that’s what my dentist said. Bruxism - that’s what he called it.
Sometimes I have a headache when I wake up. I ask people - Do you ever have headaches when you wake up?
Everyone says no.
The checkout line was long but eventually it was my turn.
I could have gone to the self checkout but I don’t like it when you have to look up the fruits and vegetables. Plus they don’t have the gum I like.
The tattooed cashier asked - Are these organic mushrooms or regular ones? The sticker had fallen off. I said - I think they’re normal but charge me for organic. She punched some keys on her machine.
I thought to myself - If she charges me for regular mushrooms I’m going to ask her out next time.
I went home and made breakfast for dinner. Eggs, sausage, hash browns, toast. Herbal tea for my sister. Coffee for my father. No coffee for me, it was too late. Ginger ale instead.
I like ginger ale, always have. My mother always liked it too. My father thinks it’s a sissy drink.
I never understood that one.
Davis came over later and we worked on a song we were writing. It’s called 'Sit Down or Shut Up'. It’s a reggae song. I don’t really like reggae but I like the song ‘Dreadlock Holiday’ by 10cc. That’s about as reggae as I get. My sister likes that song too.
She came downstairs and listened to us practice. She also read a book. I don’t know how she can do that.
We made a lot of noise.
The next day I looked up the meaning of a yak tattoo. I didn’t get much helpful information but I did see a lot of cool tattoos.
My sister didn’t think the checkout girl with the neck tattoo was a lesbian. She thought she was a poser. I thought that was an outdated term. I thought the checkout girl with the neck tattoo was pretty cool.
Note to self: Find out the checkout girl’s name so I won’t have to keep saying - the checkout girl with the neck tattoo.
A few weeks ago my father threw out one of my electric guitars. He put it out by the curb with some junk trash for the junk trash people to pick up.
I had left it in the living room because I was replacing the strings. The lighting is better in the living room. I had all the old strings off but I only had light gauge strings in the house. I wanted to use extra-light gauge strings. So I had left the guitar in the living room without strings. For a couple of weeks.
My father probably thought it was useless. A guitar without any strings. I can see that. I get it. So he threw it out.
I caught the junk trash guys just in time. I could tell one of them was thinking about keeping it by the way he was eyeing it. It took me ten minutes to convince him that I lived there and it wasn’t trash.
My father isn’t someone who appreciates musical instruments by any stretch of the imagination. But he could have asked.
Last year, my sister, Jules, won an important swimming competition at her college. She didn’t actually win, she came in second. She lost by a couple of lengths. But the first place winner was disqualified because she had Vaselined her swimming cap. I never even knew that was a thing - Vaselining your swimming cap. Now, every time there’s a swim meet at my sister’s college, there’s a woman who slides her fingers across every swimmer’s cap and swimsuit before they get in the water.
My sister brought home a small gold-colored trophy with a diver on it. My father looked at it and said - What’s that for? - just like that - What’s that even for? My father was having a bad day.
Later that night, my mother died at the hospital. My father was with her. My sister and I were about to go visit her when my father called - Take your time, your mother’s dead - that’s how he put it. Just like that. On the phone. My sister put her gold-colored swimming trophy back in her room.
My sister cried a lot that night and the next day. I felt very bad for her.
Sometimes you just can’t win.
My father is thinking of retiring. He’s seventy now. Yeah, I know, he was pretty old when we were born. And my mother was sixty two when she died.
We had a party to celebrate my father’s Big Seven Zero this year. We invited some of Mom’s friends. No gifts, we stipulated. My father received gifts.
An older woman named Elizabeth gave him a new wallet. It came in a fancy box with fancy wrapping. I think she likes my father but my father can’t stand her. He says she’s - too pink. Pink clothes, pink lipstick, pink eye shadow. She even drives a pink Lexus.
I side with my father on this one.
While we’re talking about possible romance, I think my friend Davis had a thing for my sister, Jules. He would say - Your sister looks cute today - or some shit like that. I think my sister knew about this and tried to dress extra cute when he came over. But I could’ve been wrong about that because she wasn’t even interested in him that way.
Jules is two years older than I am and three years older than Davis. She had a serious boyfriend once. It lasted two years. His name was Clive or something. He had weird hair. He joined the Marines or the Peace Corps. Or maybe the Jehovah's Witnesses. I can’t remember.
My sister wasn’t too broken up about it at the time.
The next time I went to the grocery store I brought my sister. I told her to wear something sexy to see if the checkout girl with the neck tattoo looked more at me or my sister. Jules wore an extra-large, black sweatshirt with a hawk on it. It wasn’t very form-fitting.
We got in the lane where the checkout girl with the neck tattoo was cashiering. We put our items on the automatic belt separated by a plastic, triangular item separator. I was getting a twelve-pack of ginger ale, some non-organic mushrooms, a dozen eggs, gum, a package of spaghetti no. 5, and some other things.
My sister was getting a box of tampons and wooden tongs.
This was a bad idea.
Speaking of spaghetti, my father tried cooking it once. In the sauce. No water. He poured three jars of pasta sauce in a big pot, threw in a box of spaghetti, and turned the burner on high.
It wasn’t good. It wasn’t bad but it wasn’t good. Also, he made a mess of the sink and the stovetop.
I had to clean up afterward.
Davis eventually found a girl his age. She worked in a library on campus. Not the main library. A technical library of some sort. Her name is Theresa. She majors in environmental science or something like that.
Davis and Theresa display a lot of affection in public now. It’s pretty annoying. Lots of touching and kissing. They’re always holding hands and whispering to each other and laughing. It’s very annoying.
Davis and I haven’t practiced 'Sit Down or Shut Up' in a while. And I wrote some new lyrics for it.
My father bought a new car recently because his old one smelled like peanut butter. That’s what he told the new car salesman. Actually, she was a woman. My car smells like peanut butter - that’s what he told her. We have cars that don’t smell like that - that’s what she told him.
My father and I took a test drive. Jessica, the new car salesman, rode in the back seat. The new car didn’t smell like peanut butter at all. It smelled like a new car. My father bought it.
I think my father liked Jessica, even though she’s probably forty years younger than him. I could tell because he smiled a lot at the dealership.
Back at the checkout line, my sister said - Hi - to the checkout girl with the neck tattoo. Now that I could see it better, it did look like a bull. The bullfighting type of bull. With the spears poking out of its back. Definitely not a yak. It looked like this:
Hey - the checkout girl with the neck tattoo said back to my sister. I said - Hi - to her also, but she didn’t respond. She was too busy passing my items across the laser scanner. I didn’t care that much because I was busy counting the earrings on her right ear. Seven. That’s a lot of hardware.
I wondered if she had any more tattoos and piercings that I couldn’t see. Wait, there’s another one on her inner wrist. A star.
It looked like this:
Pretty cool.
She smiled at me when she handed me my receipt.
The next day, my sister asked if I was going to ask Missy out. Who’s Missy? - I asked. My sister responded - The checkout girl with the bull tattoo on her neck. I asked my sister - How did you get her name? She told me it was on the receipt. It’s on the receipt, doofus - that’s how my sister told me.
So now I know her name.
Missy.
Davis and Theresa came over to practice one night. It looked like a decision was made without me and she’s now in the band. She knows how to play piano and she can sing backup harmonies. But we need a drummer - I thought to myself.
Theresa was wearing a low cut sweater but there wasn’t a tattoo in sight.
Note to self: Ask Davis if Theresa has tattoos in places I’m not allowed to see.
The new rendition of 'Sit Down or Shut Up' with the new band lineup sounded okay. I introduced the new lyrics and everyone liked them. Even Jules put down The Great Gatsby long enough to say - I like the new lyrics. Davis told her - Thanks, Julia - even though he had nothing to do with writing them. I think he said it with a little too much gusto.
Even Theresa noticed.
My father’s new car came with free car washes for a year. Every week he told me to take it to get washed. I didn’t mind, it’s a nice car. Sometimes I took my sister, sometimes I’d take Davis (and Theresa), sometimes I went alone.
One Sunday, I decided to take the car to the grocery store after the car wash to ask Missy if she might want to take a ride in it with me.
She must be off on Sundays.
When summer break came around, I suggested to Davis that we should go on a road trip. See new places. Experience things that we can write about in our songs. Davis insisted that Theresa come with us. I told him no. Absolutely not. It’s just the guys - you, me and the road - I told him. He told me he didn’t want to go if Theresa couldn’t come. I’m not going if she’s not coming - that’s how he told me. We were at a standstill.
In an attempt at compromise, I suggested my sister come with us instead of Theresa. Davis thought about it and eventually said - Yeah, okay.
My sister couldn’t come. She had to work.
My sister, Jules, works at a convention center during weekdays. She books business meetings, parties, entertainment acts, sometimes even weddings. Occasionally she brings home leftover cake or pastries. My father really likes it when that happens.
She also just started working weekend nights at a bar. She’s a bartender. She wears revealing tops and tight slacks at that job. It’s not how it sounds, it’s a respectable place. For the tips - she told me when Davis and I went in for a beer one evening. I know - I told her.
Don’t tell Dad - she said.
My sister is trying to save enough money to buy a house. Why? - my father said - you can have this house when I go. My father always says - when I go - when speaking about his own death. My sister and I roll our eyes when he does that. However, somewhat contradictorily, he said his doctor told him he had another twenty years.
My father doesn’t eat very healthily and he doesn’t exercise much either.
I don’t know who is lying - my father or his doctor.
My father had a mild heart attack during the time Davis and I were planning our road trip. I had agreed Theresa could go if he would allow me to ask Missy to come along.
My father said to me - Here’s the keys. Drive me to the hospital. I’m having a heart attack. Just like that. My father, Jules, Davis, Theresa, and I all went to the hospital in my father’s new car. Davis and I bought all the Cheetos and Funyuns from all the vending machines at the hospital in preparation for our trip.
The vending machines at the hospital take credit cards now.
After three and a half hours of tests and x-rays, the doctors prescribed a bunch of blood thinners and anti-plaque medications for my father and sent him home. He was also told to quit smoking, which, surprise surprise, he was still doing. My sister suggested that Davis and I postpone our trip until our dad gets back on his feet. Theresa seconded that idea and our road trip was canceled. And I didn’t even have a chance to ask Missy.
Before my next visit to the grocery store, I practiced some conversation starters to try on Missy. Here are the ones I practiced:
Nice tattoo. I like bulls.
Are there any parks around here where I can practice Frisbee golf?
My father had a heart attack. How’s your father doing?
Have you been on any road trips recently?
I’m not a great conversationalist, I admit, but you never know.
I also started listening to a lot of Talking Heads.
When my sister graduated from college two years ago, my family had a big party. My mother was pretty ill at the time so we had it at home. Several of Jules’ friends showed up with liquor, so there was a lot of laughing and shrieking. Girls.
When things calmed down, Davis and I played her our version of ‘School’s Out’ on acoustic guitars. It was my idea. After the musical interlude, when everyone was having cake, I overheard one of my sister’s friends ask her - Who’s the skinny guy on guitar? I got very excited and I wanted my sister to formally introduce me to her. She was very attractive and had a barbed wire tattoo circling her left ankle. She also had a stud piercing on her philtrum. That’s the curved, grooved part between your nose and your upper lip.
Later, I saw her making out with Davis outside next to the shed.
If she considers Davis skinny, she probably thinks I’m a skeleton.
In two years, I should be graduating college. I just finished my sophomore year. The other night I realized that my mother wouldn’t be at my party. I was also thinking that my father may not be there. My sister and I were constantly on the lookout for cigarettes in the house. She found a pack inside a plastic baggie duct taped to the underside of his toilet tank lid. I found a pack duct taped to the underside of the orange, plastic Adirondack chair outside on the patio. Neither of us wanted him to go any time soon.
I really hoped things worked out between Missy and me.
Somebody needs to come to my party.
Davis told me that he and Theresa were going on vacation. Miami Beach. The one in Florida. He just brought it up one day. Just like that - Me and Theresa are going on vacation to Miami Beach - that’s how he told me. I said - The one in Florida? He said - Yeah.
Man, you think you know someone. Then he just casually announces he’s going on a trip with his girlfriend.
Just like that.
When Davis was on vacation in Miami Beach, Florida, I stayed at home and looked after my father. I also promised myself I would write two new songs. One each week that Davis was gone.
The first one was called Missy. At the time, it was only an instrumental. I thought I’d wait until I had a conversation with Missy at the grocery store before I put any words to it. That would make it very personal and real.
It’s a pretty emotional song.
Wow, my father is a recuperating fiend! It had only been a week and he was already back at work. I had the place to myself when Jules was at her job. I needed to work on my second song but I discovered I really liked taking afternoon naps. There was something very relaxing about not hearing people talking or yelling, or the TV, or people making noise. Just the sound of birds chirping or the occasional car going by outside.
It was kind of nice.
I got a postcard from Davis. It had a photo of the hotel where he and Theresa were staying. On the back it had my address, of course, and Davis wrote - Hey, guess what we’re doing! D&T - in Davis’ weird handwriting. Well, how am I supposed to know what they were doing? You can see a bit of the hotel’s pool in the photo. Were they swimming in the pool? Tanning on the deck chairs? Were they having dinner with major celebrities, like Don Johnson? Or, maybe it was something more sinister. Were they robbing banks down there? Or, were they having sex at that hotel?
I just didn’t know.
Okay, I really needed to get some groceries, so I went over to my favorite grocery store. I had my list of conversation starters in my pocket. Just in case. I put a lot of stuff in my cart. This was great forethought on my part. It would give me more time with Missy at the register.
When it was my turn, I discovered she had someone else with her. A trainee. A young girl with a ponytail. She had a ribbon on her ponytail. Missy was explaining every single detail about scanning items, bagging those items, and accepting payment. This was totally unexpected.
I was at a loss for words. Literally. No words came out. Even if there was an opportunity to say something, I don’t think I would have been capable. Big failure.
But it wasn’t all bad news. After I paid, Missy handed me my receipt. She said - Man, you really like those mushrooms - just like that. The other girl smiled and I kind of laughed and said - Yeah.
Mental fist pump!
Note to self: Keep buying mushrooms.
That Thursday, my sister, Jules, had a date but she didn’t tell me who it was. I asked - It’s not Missy, is it? She looked at me with a blank stare and finally said sarcastically - No, it’s not your precious Missy - then she said - she is cute, though - not so sarcastically. I could totally see them hooking up but I didn’t want to think about that. My sister then asked - Have you even asked her out yet? - which made me cringe a little. I thought about how Missy said - Hey - to my sister but not to me.
She is cute, though. I totally agree with my sister on that one.
My sister went on a date that night but she met the mysterious person somewhere else. They didn’t meet at our house. My sister goes on dates on Thursday nights because she works Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights at the bar. She was dressed pretty sexy. Not that I think of my sister that way. I don’t. I was just imagining what my sister was wearing, but on Missy when we finally go on our first date together. Whenever that will be. Missy would look damn sexy in that outfit was all I was thinking about.
Except my sister and Missy have completely different body types.
My father is succeeding at quitting smoking. He sucks on cinnamon flavored toothpicks and sometimes he asks me for a piece of my gum. He even took up a new hobby so he wouldn’t think about smoking.
My father purchased a bunch of those flat metal puzzles. You punch out the pieces and put them together without the need for tools. At the end, you have a 3-D sculpture. So far he’s done a biplane, the Eiffel Tower, a racing car, and a windmill. He does these at the kitchen table and he bought a lamp specifically for that purpose. So he can see the smaller pieces better. And he sings along with the radio in the kitchen.
I think my father is happier after his mini heart attack.
I was almost out of mushrooms so I decided to go to the grocery store. The first thing I do when I go there is look to see which aisle Missy is stationed. That way, when I’m done shopping, I can nonchalantly enter her aisle, making it look random. Then I would say - Oh, hi - as if I was surprised to see her again, even though she works there five days a week. Wednesdays and Sundays off.
She wasn’t there that day. None of the aisles.
Her trainee was there though. It looked like she graduated and was now cashiering by herself.
I put my basket on the basket stack and walked out without buying anything. Even though I really needed a couple of packs of gum.
One for me, one for my father.
Davis and Theresa came back from their Miami Beach vacation. Davis, Theresa, my sister, and I all gathered downstairs in our jam studio, but we didn’t practice any songs. We all drank beer and Davis and Theresa told us about their trip and they laughed about the funny things that happened.
I didn’t bring up the postcard because I was pretty sure it was the sex thing. That might have been awkward for Davis having my sister right there. And his girlfriend.
One of the places they visited in Florida was a topless beach. Davis went on and on about all the - bare boobies - he saw. Yes, he called them boobies. He’s always saying shit like that. So uncouth. Right there in the open for anyone to see - he said. I thought Theresa looked a little uncomfortable at that moment. I wanted to ask if she had taken her top off. But I didn’t. I’m not that uncouth.
All I could think about the rest of the night were Theresa’s boobies.
My father had to have a checkup with his doctor and he wanted me to drive him to the doctor’s office. His car still had that new-car-smell. I had read somewhere that that smell was actually formaldehyde seeping out of the plastic parts of the dashboard and you shouldn’t breathe it in. I was concerned for my father so we drove with the AC on and the windows down.
When we got to the doctor’s office, my father told me to get the car washed and come pick him up in an hour. After I got the car washed, I decided to head over to the grocery store. It was only a few blocks away.
The first thing I did was check the cashier situation. No Missy. And it wasn’t even Wednesday.
I put gas in the car and went to pick up my father.
One of the crazy thoughts that had been swirling around my mind around that time was about getting a tattoo. That’s not such a crazy thought - lots of people get tattoos. The crazy part was I wanted it to say - Man, you really like those mushrooms - in a fancy script. Something like this:
Maybe on my thigh, or on the inside of my arm so I can look at it all the time. No one would understand it. It would be a mystery to everyone who saw it. That would be the cool thing about it. Like a private joke.
Only Missy and I would know the meaning.
A week later, I asked my sister, Jules, if she wanted to go with me to get the car washed. She said no - I have to get ready for my date tonight - that’s what she said. Why does it take four hours to get ready for a date? Girls.
I called up Davis to see if he wanted to go with me to the car wash but he said he and Theresa were going to the amusement park. The one with the Loop-De-Loop ride. It’s like a forty five minute drive, dude - that’s what he told me - we gotta leave soon.
I went back to my sister and asked her who this mystery date was and - Is it serious? She just smiled and played with her hair. Maybe - that’s all she said about it. Trying to be all mysterious.
So, I got the car washed by myself.
I asked Davis if he wanted to revisit the possibility of going on a road trip since my father was back at work and the summer was dwindling away even though it actually just started. Just the guys, no sisters or girlfriends - that was what I said. Just like that. He pretty much quashed the idea right out of the gate. He told me - Kinda busy at the moment - and that was the end of that.
Davis told me he was changing his major in the fall from electrical engineering to environmental science. Hmm.
The next day - I repeat, the next day, he told me he was moving out of his parent’s house and moving into an apartment with Theresa. It’s close to campus - that was the way he put it. I told him - Do what you gotta do, man - and that was the end of that one.
I can always carpool by myself.
The grocery situation was getting dire. I needed to stock up, Missy or no Missy. Guess what? That’s right, she wasn’t there.
I put all my items on the automatic belt in the new girl’s aisle. She was very friendly, saying - Hi, how are you doing? - very loudly and distinctly. I told her - I’m fine - and - I saw you when you were training with Missy. She said - Right, you’re the one that likes mushrooms - and wouldn’t you know it, she was scanning my mushrooms across the laser when she said it. That’s some kind of kismet right there. Or whatever you call it. We both laughed when we noticed.
The new cashier was an expert item scanner. Very detail oriented, I’d say. She still had a ponytail with a silly ribbon on it. I still didn’t see any tattoos. And she only had one earring on each ear. They were dangly. And sparkly.
I had to ask - Hey, I haven’t seen Missy here in a while - all casual like. She told me - Missy moved to Colorado with her boyfriend - and I tried not to react even though my face and chest got really hot.
It was summer and it’s hard to air condition a big place like that.
The next day, Davis came over and he returned an old electric guitar that he had borrowed like a century ago. He was already packing for his move and getting rid of stuff. Hey man, I realized this was yours - that’s how he put it when he gave me my guitar. Aw, man - I told him - I forgot about this thing - trying not to make a big deal about the transaction. I asked him - Do you wanna jam? - adding - nothing serious, just jamming, no females, like the old days. He told me - Theresa wants to go hiking near the lake - just like that, no thinking about it. Flat refusal. But then he turned around and said - You know what, maybe for a little while.
We jammed for like a half an hour.
I was in my room when I saw my receipt from the previous day. I was about to throw it out when I remembered my sister’s trick. Yep, there it was, black on white, at the bottom of the receipt - Your cashier was: Whitney.
So now I know her name.
Whitney.
Note to self: Find out if Whitney likes Cheetos and Funyuns.
Very nicely done - the narrator's voice is very well done and consistent throughout and the whole thing has an easy rhythmic quality that could turn into comedy or something more serious.