Pickles
Rachel Pruitt parked her white Neon off to the side of the narrow road in front of Phil’s Meat and Cheese shop (the best meat and cheese this side of Boston!) The brisk, winter wind from the open window blew a thick strand of her strawberry red hair into her eyes, green and lively, yet hiding something that didn’t belong there. But somehow she couldn’t escape it.
“Honey, you’ll be fine…” she said into her cell phone, huffing a stream of air into the speaker. ‘No, I can’t tell her to stay home. She’s my mother! She’s been looking forward to seeing me for the past eight months. It’s all she talks about!. It’s either I see her now, or she comes to visit again in two weeks. You can’t avoid her forever, Michael. And besides, my dad told me you guys get along pretty well, so why don’t you just take him to a movie or something? I’ll spend some time with my mom alone.” Rachel turned off the engine and stepped out of the car. “God Michael, you’re such a child.” She slammed the door shut. “You know, you’re so not doing anything helpful right now. If you really can’t stand my mother, then go stay in a hotel or crash with one of your stupid friends. Don’t give me crap for wanting to spend time with my parents. Okay?” She paused for an answer. “Where am I? I’m going to the store so I can make your dinner. Good bye, Michael. I’m turning the phone off now. Goodbye!” She pounded on the power button and threw the phone into her purse.
Arriving at the glass doors, Rachel pushed her way through and a cheery jingle announced her entrance to the store. Phil, busy taking a customer’s order behind the refrigerated meat counter, said a quick hello without looking to see who had walked in. Rachel managed a hello and a smile as she quietly made her way to the freezer cases in the back. On her way, she surveyed the layout of the store and noticed several large, red signs hanging above the even-numbered aisles. Each one advertised a sales item. The one over aisle seven read, “Phil’s Sausage Special. Buy 2, Get 1 Free!” and next to the offer was a rather large photo of Phil standing over a smoking grill and giving the thumbs up. Rachel smirked a little and continued walking. But before she could get very far, Phil called from behind, “Oh hey, Rachel. Nice to finally see you again.”
Rachel, caught off guard, turned to greet Phil properly. As usual he was wearing his cream colored smock (with several blotches of dark, reddish stains from God knows where), his jet black bow-tie, and the signature paper cap all good meat market clerks wore (in 1952). A little brown mustache poked out from under his nose and hugged his cheek bones, growing outward from his face and pointing like arrows to the sides of his collar. For someone who cut meat all day he looked quite presentable.
“Oh! Hi, Phil. Nice to see you to. How’ve things been going for you?” Rachel replied.
“Well, you know, things have been pretty normal around here I guess. Business is a bit slow… But hey, what’s new, right?” Phil made a very animated shrug and a poor attempt at a grin. “Suddenly his face flicked, as if someone had turned a switch on the back of his head. “Oh, hey! Did ya see the signs I put up? For the specials?” The signs he was referring to were included the giant sausage ad Rachel noticed before. “Aren’t they neat?”
Rachel turned around and took a second look at the quirky pictures of Phil. This time, she noticed that in every picture Phil was wearing swimming trunks and a tank top. She couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Yea, those are pretty cool. And hey, that’s not a bad deal, either. Can’t say I’d ever pass up a free sausage.”
Phil winked and smiled. “Certainly not.”
“But what’s with the swimming trunks? It’s winter.”
“Well, to be honest, I don’t know. They seemed like a good idea at the time. But now that you bring it to my attention, it probably wasn’t one of my smartest choices.” Phil’s face slowly turned the same color red that was smeared across his apron. “Oh well. I guess now every day is summer at Phil’s Meat and Cheese.”
Rachel, regretting saying anything about the trunks, refocused her attention to the freezers in the back. “Hey, I’ll be back in a minute, Phil. I gotta go grab a few things from the freezer.”
“Sure thing. I’ll be right here if you need anything.” Phil smiled again and began to wipe down the counter.
Shuffling briskly down aisle seven, Rachel finally made her way to the back. But just as she was passing the beef jerky and trail mix, her phone rang. Thinking it was turned off, she reached into her purse for the phone and pulled it out. The little glowing screen on the front read “Frank” followed by a little heart-shaped icon that blinked in time with the phone’s ring. “Shit,” said Rachel, reluctantly flipping the cell phone open. ‘What?”
“Well that’s not a very nice way to answer the phone.”
Rachel moved to the side of the aisle, stooping down low and trying to keep the range of her voice between the two rows of beef jerky in front of her. “What the hell are you doing calling me. I thought we agree to call this whole thing off.”
“I’m sorry, baby. I couldn’t help it. I miss you.”
“Don’t call me baby.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Why did you call me?”
“I told you, I miss you.”
“You miss me?”
“Yea. I didn’t sleep at all last night. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“Oh please, Frank. Stop the bullshit. Really, why did you call me?”
“I already told you.”
“Why did you call me, Frank?”
“Because I love you.”
Rachel somehow knew that was coming. “Frank…” she paused for a second, “I can’t see you anymore.”
“Why not? Because of Michael?”
“Yes, because of Michael. I’ve decided I really do love him.”
“But you said you love me too.”
“Yes, but I guess I didn’t marry you, did I?”
“Everyone makes mistakes, baby.” Up front someone jingled the door open. It was another customer, Mrs. O’Neil. A gust of wind from outside blew in through the door and shook the signs hanging from the ceiling. The picture of Phil in his swimming trunks loomed over head. For some reason Rachel wanted to hang up, to throw the phone down the aisle and under the cases full of rib-eye steak and ground beef. But she didn’t. All she could do was close her eyes and take a deep breath.
“Stop calling me that, I don’t like it. And marrying Michael wasn’t a mistake. Don’t you ever say that again.”
“Hey, whoa. Calm down, Rach. I thought you said you hated him. Weren’t you guys supposed to get a divorce?”
“That’s because I did hate him. And I wanted to get a divorce.”
“Well, what changed your mind, baby?”
“For God’s sake, call me that one more time and I’ll–” she stopped herself. She saw Mrs. O’Neil step into aisle six in front of her. Quietly, she continued, “I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t want to anymore.”
“Rachel, let’s talk about this. Everything you told me, everything we talked about… I’m not ready to give up on it all yet. All that stuff we had… That hasn’t all changed overnight, has it?” What really happened?”
“Nothing. I just… I don’t know.”
“Can you please come over tonight?”
Rachel had to sit before her knees buckled and brought her down anyway.
“Well?”
“My parents are coming tomorrow, I… I still need to clean the house. And I have to cook dinner for Michael.”
“How about you come over at 8 o’clock. Will that give you enough time?”
Rachel sighed and sank her head into her knees. “Yea.”
“All right, baby. I’ll see you tonight.” Frank made a kissing sound and hung up.
Rachel let the phone fall from her hand and she suddenly felt cold; in aisle six, Mrs. O’Neil accidentally knocked a jar of pickles onto the floor.