Chapter 9: Rowen, Part 2

There are so many boxes. Everything from panty looking diapers to teeny tiny things folded in half.

"Babe."

I know she hears how overwhelmed I am. "Relax. I know it's a lot to take in. You're looking for a green box."

"Green box. Okay. Looking for a green box." I start searching the shelves for anything that looks green.

"Inside the green box is a bunch of yellow packages."

"I have to open up all the green boxes?"

"No, babe. You can see the yellow packages through the plastic window on the box."

That makes more sense. "Okay. Green box. Yellow packages."

"It's called Always Infinity."

"I'm still looking for a green box. I can't see what it's called…" Suddenly, it's in my hand. A woman, probably in her early forties, pats me on the arm.

"Pretty sure this is what she's asking you for," she says with a smile.

"Let me double check. Babe, someone just handed me a box. It's green, I can see yellow packages inside. It's called Always Infinity, size… uh… regular? Is that right?"

"That's exactly it!"

"Thank you!" I tell the woman, as she smiles and begins to walk away.

"You're welcome. You aren't the first man I've had to help on this aisle, and you won't be the last."

Tiffany giggles. "She's got that right."

"Yeah, yeah. That's everything on the list, right?"

"What do you have?"

I look back in the cart because, once again, I forgot. I really need to make a list. "Soup, crackers, Sprite, Pepto, my three-pack of on-sale deodorant…"

She snorts a laugh.

"And all your woman things."

"You did good, Rookie. Are you headed home now?"

The area widens as I turn the cart onto the main aisle. It feels much less claustrophobic now that I'm not packed in with so many other people all looking for the same thing. I need to get out of here. "Yeah. I've got a couple hours until I have to get back."

"How's it going with Santos?" she asks gently. Santos is a tough topic for Tiffany and me. I think she gives him too much leeway on being a dick. She thinks I don't give him enough. We could agree to disagree because in different ways, we're both right. But working with him every day makes it tough to let it go. And working with him every day means I can tell things aren't getting better with him.

"I don't know, Tiffany. I kind of feel bad for the guy. He hasn't said anything or gotten in my face again. But he's just… off."

"Well, his whole life is in upheaval."

"I know. That's why I didn't beat his ass that night at poker. You were right, and I'm trying to give him breathing room. And he wants to do drills all the time now, so at least I'm getting extra practice with my corner shot. As long as he's not taking pot-shots at you, I'm okay with just letting him be. It just kind of sucks."

"Has he mentioned anything about Mariana or the kids?"

"Nope. He stays really tight-lipped." I get in the back of a very long check-out line. We're at least ten deep, but of course it's the only lane open. "But we don't really run in the same circle, anyway. I think he's kind of lost."

"I wish I could do something for him. As much as he's a dick to me now, he really was kind to me for a long time."

I bristle. Tiffany's sexual history doesn't really affect me anymore, but every once in a while, it's still bothersome that I have to see her former sex partners every day. I know we're married and the past doesn't really matter. But no man wants to think about their woman being with someone else.

"I'm sorry," she says quietly, picking up on my mood change. "I didn't mean to bring it up."

"No, babe. Don't ever feel sorry for feeling bad for someone. Your heart is what I love about you the most."

"You're sweet."

"Sweet enough to get a little action when I get there?" The woman in front of me turns around and glares at me. I shrug and pretend I don't care, even though I feel my face flaming.

"Maybe," Tiffany says coyly. "Um… maybe not…" She doesn't sound so coy anymore. "Oh shit, I gotta go babe. Fuck, I thought this was over…"

She must miss the "end call" button because I hear her take off running and what I assume is the bathroom door slam. I disconnect as the line slowly inches forward and stops.

If I can only get out of here, I'll be able to get the supplies home to my sick wife.