What Went Wrong?
Posted: Fri Oct 05, 2007 7:03 pm
This belongs in War Stories, I suppose, but . . . it didn’t feel right. So I posted it here instead.
The teenager led me to the section in the back of the bookstore where the audio books were kept and I thanked him for it. There were no braille subheadings, but the CD’s were arranged obsessively in alphabetical order with plaques below them to ensure even the most ignorant of customers would find—and keep—everything in proper order; no Dewey Decimal System required. I started searching through the titles in the plaques, my fingers glancing through the indented letters. The teenage employee stood behind me hemming and hawing; he wanted to help, but I was only browsing. When the manager caught him just standing there, he sent him off on an errand and asked if I needed any help. I thanked him and said no, I was just browsing, and he left me to my thoughts. I continued searching for several minutes. Muffled footsteps shuffled against the carpeted floor.
“Yes, I’m looking for CD books of Harry Potter, please.” A familiar voice explained to her companion. “Yes, I would like all seven of them if you please. Would you do gift-wrapping so early in the season? I would like to give them to my granddaughter—”
“We do ma’am, right down here . . . .”
Her voice matched her steps, both dying the moment she turned down the aisle and spotted me. I spun on my heel and wore a bright, cheery smile.
“Mrs. Grady! How are you? Did you—”
“I’ve changed my mind,” she said in an unnaturally high voice. “I want to get her those Narnia books instead . . .” she stalked away, the confused salesman following.
“Mrs. Grady?” I indented my eyebrows and cautiously followed the sound of her clipping heels, suddenly muffled again when she struck carpet. “Mrs. Grady, is everything all right . . .?”
She whirled at me, her voice a shriek. “It was a coincidence, you hear me!? A coincidence! Nothing more! It’s not real! It can’t be!! You didn’t see the future! You didn’t find my son in that abandoned house! You’re a fake!”
“Mrs. Grady . . .” I stepped forward, my hand held out. She recoiled as though I had offered her a venomous snake. The woman sounded deranged.
“Stay away from my family, you . . . you b—!” I staggered back and my face and neck jerked to the right, my glasses flying aside and clattering against the floor. Utter silence reigned after the echoes of the slap faded to nothing. The few other customers in the store were dumb, uncertain how to react, either.
“I’ll shop somewhere else,” she declared, stomping out the door and slamming it so hard the glass panes within rattled.
And all I could do was stand in silent, shocked surprise, my left hand raising up to touch my stinging cheek, my mouth agape.
This happened yesterday.
The teenager led me to the section in the back of the bookstore where the audio books were kept and I thanked him for it. There were no braille subheadings, but the CD’s were arranged obsessively in alphabetical order with plaques below them to ensure even the most ignorant of customers would find—and keep—everything in proper order; no Dewey Decimal System required. I started searching through the titles in the plaques, my fingers glancing through the indented letters. The teenage employee stood behind me hemming and hawing; he wanted to help, but I was only browsing. When the manager caught him just standing there, he sent him off on an errand and asked if I needed any help. I thanked him and said no, I was just browsing, and he left me to my thoughts. I continued searching for several minutes. Muffled footsteps shuffled against the carpeted floor.
“Yes, I’m looking for CD books of Harry Potter, please.” A familiar voice explained to her companion. “Yes, I would like all seven of them if you please. Would you do gift-wrapping so early in the season? I would like to give them to my granddaughter—”
“We do ma’am, right down here . . . .”
Her voice matched her steps, both dying the moment she turned down the aisle and spotted me. I spun on my heel and wore a bright, cheery smile.
“Mrs. Grady! How are you? Did you—”
“I’ve changed my mind,” she said in an unnaturally high voice. “I want to get her those Narnia books instead . . .” she stalked away, the confused salesman following.
“Mrs. Grady?” I indented my eyebrows and cautiously followed the sound of her clipping heels, suddenly muffled again when she struck carpet. “Mrs. Grady, is everything all right . . .?”
She whirled at me, her voice a shriek. “It was a coincidence, you hear me!? A coincidence! Nothing more! It’s not real! It can’t be!! You didn’t see the future! You didn’t find my son in that abandoned house! You’re a fake!”
“Mrs. Grady . . .” I stepped forward, my hand held out. She recoiled as though I had offered her a venomous snake. The woman sounded deranged.
“Stay away from my family, you . . . you b—!” I staggered back and my face and neck jerked to the right, my glasses flying aside and clattering against the floor. Utter silence reigned after the echoes of the slap faded to nothing. The few other customers in the store were dumb, uncertain how to react, either.
“I’ll shop somewhere else,” she declared, stomping out the door and slamming it so hard the glass panes within rattled.
And all I could do was stand in silent, shocked surprise, my left hand raising up to touch my stinging cheek, my mouth agape.
This happened yesterday.
