Page 85 of Mourner for Hire
“My wife makes a delicious cobbler with them and serves it up with vanilla ice cream from the local creamery. Milton’s Creamery. Have you been there yet?”
I realize he is going to comment on every item I’m buying, and I quickly miss the self-checkout stands from the city.
“I have not been there yet,” I answer kindly.
“It is delicious.” He scans my tampons and grabs a chocolate bar from the stand then winks. “On the house.”
“Thanks.” I chuckle, pulling out the notebook from my bag and setting it on the checkout stand so I can reach my wallet and slip my credit card into the card reader.
“Oh!” It’s the stereotypical sound of a startled old person.
I glance back. He’s scanning a box I don’t remember putting my cart. It’s a value-sized box of ribbed condoms. My cheeks burn, and he forces a laugh that comes out like a cough.
“Well, good for you, honey,” he says finally, grabbing the purple box next in line.
It’s a vibrator. With both clitoral and G-spot stimulation.
“Really… good foryou, I guess.” He double-bags the items and tells me the total without making eye contact.
The card reader beeps to remove my card, and I slip it into my purse without putting it in the appropriate slot in my wallet because I would like to sprint out of there as fast as possible. I tell him thank you and plaster a smile on my face.
Bless that poor old man’s heart. I have no issue with vibrators, condoms, or my sexuality, of course. However, I tend to purchase those items with more discretion, not from the eighty-year-old port local who calls me ‘dear.’
“Fucking Dominic,” I say, tossing my bags in the back of my bug.
This was his vengeance—his checkmate of sorts. I called him out on the hike, and he retaliated with middle school pranks.
Predictable, yet I’m pissed I didn’t keep better composure.
I shift the car into drive as quickly as I can.
TWENTY-NINE
DOMINIC
I let out a long,deranged laugh as I watch a frazzled Vada stomp out of the store and past me. The wind whips through her hair and sends the strap of her dress over her shoulder, revealing a heart-shaped birthmark on her shoulder once again.
Vada’s face disappears behind the hatchback of her black bug just as she was about to say a word that starts with f.
I turn to a gentle shove on my shoulder and find Marylou with a stern brow.
“Leave that harmless girl alone,” she says.
I have no idea if Marylou witnessed the entire checkout or if she’s just making assumptions, as she does. But I flash her my best smile. “Oh, come on. It was a harmless prank.”
“Put your dimples away, Dominic. You can’t run her out of town with sex toys and bad jokes. There’s nothing wrong with a vibrator anyway.”
“I did not need to hear that from you, but thank you.” I wince.
“Oh, you brought this conversation upon yourself, but if you need a few tips or would like to know the latest gadgets on the market, I’d be happy to host a Passion Party for you.”
My eyes instinctively squeeze shut. “Oh, God, Marylou, that is so unnecessary to say to me.”
She crosses her arms with an I-told-you-so expression on her face. “Unnecessary as putting a box of condoms and a vibrator in Vada’s shopping cart when you knew the only person working the register today is Larry, and he loves to gab about whatever you buy… even the personal items.”
I stare at her blankly, then finally say, “I’m not apologizing.”
“Oh, sweet boy. I know you’re hurting, but you can’t take it out on her.”
