The Store

*somewhere, in a town nobody has ever heard of, at around 7:15am*

You’d be driving, and you’d be hungry.

'Honestly, all I want is some chips' you might think, eyeing the cornfields engulfing you. You’d be so hungry, that you might almost drive past the store. A store so small you’d miss it if you blinked. You might pull into the parking lot, and if you did, there would probably be one or two cars there. This was typical.

You’d walk inside, and you’d see your average country store. About 4 aisles. Minimal groceries. Snacks. A radio quietly playing country music. A fan. People nodding absently at one another as they walked past. In this town, the nod is accompanied with a greeting, a “How’re the kids?” or a “Coming for dinner Friday?”

The store has one register, and seated behind it, was a woman who looked like she was about 70. The name tag pinned to her clothes said ‘Mabel’. It seems like, at this time of morning, it was always Mabel. She smiles at customers like her own family, and sits with the comfort of being at home. This was the kind of store where things didn’t change much. In fact, you’d assume slight change would almost always have a ripple effect.

It probably wasn’t uncommon to hear someone’s voice rising above the whirr of the fan, “Maaaaaabel, where are my chips?” Or pop. Candy. Store item of any kind really. The people in this town liked to know what to expect.

You’d walk through the aisles, looking at chips, when somewhere towards the front of the store you’d hear an aggravated drawl.

“Come on, wouldn’t you just tell us what’s in it?”

Betrayed by your curiosity, you’d find your way towards the other end of the isle, pretending to closely examine a bag of candy as you aimed your eyes at the register. You’d see an average height man, a visible belly spilling down from his jeans. His clothes would be ripped, and even from here, you could smell booze on his breath. In one hand he’d be holding a 6 pack of Bud Light, and in his other hand he’d be pointing at an oddly shaped brown box placed among the alcohol behind the register. It didn’t look like alcohol to you, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it was.

Mabel would smile warmly in return, and evenly respond “I’ll tell ya the same thing I told ya yesterday Bud. You can buy it if you want to know what’s inside…”

The man was already shaking his head, his tone raising in volume and pitch until other eyes of the store were raised as well. “A’int nobody gonna pay $50 dollars for…” he started, ending his sentence by gesturing wildly at the package behind her.

From somewhere towards the back of the store, you’d hear another voice, this time a woman, somewhat unsure of herself. “Mabel, we’ve all been wonderin’ what’s in it…” With a look around her, like she was trying to garner support, you notice another man nod as well. He’d contribute a confused, “You know nobody’s got that money to just… throw out?”

Mabel would turn her eyes towards him at this point, disregarding the customer in front of her. Bud, you think.

“Who said anythin’ about throwin’ it out?” She’d shrug, making eye contact with each person in the room before stating, quietly, “y’all know I got to get rid of it”. She said it as if it was an undisputed fact, and both the man and woman gave a halfhearted nod.

You’d head towards the register, items in hand, as the man at the register would continue to ramble in frustration, unintelligible at this point.

“You gonna’ be purchasing that today, Bud?” She’d ask, eyeing his beer and meeting his gaze only briefly. He’d redden even more, slamming the beers onto the counter. There’s a part of you that would want to put your hand on his shoulder, maybe say something calming. But there’s also a part of you that doesn’t want to get too close, a part strong enough that you back up a step or two. You notice Bud’s gaze starting to darken, and before you can react, he’s jumping across the counter. The two other people in the store freeze, and nervously look at each other. They’re not sure what to do.

In that moment Mabel looks fragile, and Bud, frankly, seems unhinged. You throw your stuff on the counter. You don’t think before you jump in front of him and shove him backwards. He’s yelling the whole time, this time, at the rest of the people in the store.

“SHE HAS TO TELL US WHAT’S IN IT!” he’s screaming now, as everyone in the aisles avoids his eye contact completely.

From the back of the store, the woman said “maybe…. you should go on home now, Bud…” In punctuation, you push him towards the door. You watch as he wanders away, cracking open one of his beers.

You turn back towards Mabel who looks relieved, but not scared. She’s ringing up your items, and looks up with a smile. “That’ll be $7.50 today, Sir” she says, not seeming like she’s in a hurry. You know you need to ask about the package. You just stopped a fight over it. You point at the package behind her, and ask her what’s in it. Mabel’s eyes cloud, she’s used to this question. At this point, the package has become her cross to bear.

“It’s sealed till ya buy it Sir.” You confirm, for yourself, and also her, that the price is $50. You watch the light go from her eyes as she tells you yes. She’s sure she’ll never sell it.

Call it charity. Call it an act of God. But something within you has you pulling the bills out of your wallet. Sliding them onto the counter, 20s, 10,s, quarters, totaling $57.50. You point to the package, and tell Mabel that you’ll take it. Her voice softens in relief as the eyes of those left in the store light up with curiosity. She quickly hands you the package, putting as much warmth as she can into asking, “would you like a bag with that sir?” You nod, and grab your bag.

As you’re walking towards your car, you flip off Bud, somewhere off in the distance. You notice the eyes of those in the store following you to your car, and you’re not sure of what to do other than halfheartedly wave.

You get back into your car, turn the ignition, and get back on the road. Really, by now, you’ve stopped longer, and spent far more money, than you should have.