Step Back; You Don’t Know Me Like That

“I like people too much or not at all.” Sylvia Plath

I need a few things

I’m shopping at a home improvement store. I’ve got a list of six items I need. My mask is on because I live in wild Florida. A home improvement store associate walks into my six-foot circle to ask me if I need help. I step back two steps; they step forward two steps. I wave my arms around my body in a windmill motion to illustrate that I need space. I tell her I’m looking for 116-inch blind slat replacements. Two of my slats broke. I’m trying to avoid replacing the entire sliding door blind. She checks; they don’t have them in that long length. “Thanks,” I answer, as I continue backing away. The associate follows me, telling me they could special order the replacements. “No,” I say and almost bump into a floor display, making my escape. She reaches to help me. I duck under her hands as I head into the outdoor furniture department.

I want to refresh my patio furniture by adding decorative pillows. The department is large, and only one other person is shopping in the department. I sigh in relief. I browse around and find two shiny parrot pillows. A voice-over my shoulder comments: “Those are nice.” Too close. I move away. The only other person shopping in the area is standing right next to me. She is holding two sets of pillows and starts talking. I can see her teeth, so she is not wearing a mask. This unmasked citizen is talking to me. Stop it.

She asks, “I’m picking up some pillows too, but I can’t decide. Which of these two sets do you like?” One set of pillows is orange; the other is a lively orange and blue pattern. “Which do I like”? None of the above. Get the hell away from me. She leans toward me to ensure I see the pillows.

Run

I step around a set of patio furniture to get away from her. Under my mask, I’m mumbling epithets. I reply, “The blue and orange will be more versatile.” She tells me she is having an outdoor party and tries to talk to me like this was pre-pandemic day. I fast walk away from her like I’m in an Olympic walking race.

I’m old enough to be his mother. He winks at me. I can feel him grinning beneath that mask; his eyes are smiling. As he walks away, I’m sure he is shaking that well-toned ass for me. He checks to see if I’m watching. I am. In America, no one gets arrested for looking.

That’s the last straw. I’m way ready to go home, but I really need some paper towels. But now I’m hot. I unzip my sweatsuit to let some air in. I’m wearing a modest little belly blouse under the sweatsuit. The blouse must be twenty years old. A passerby will see my stomach if they glance over. I’m making a move to get the 12 pack of extra absorbent paper towels.

A young man I don’t know reaches around and puts the Bounty in my cart. He moves back six feet. This tall man has a nice body, beautiful curly hair, and gorgeous eyes. He has on a mask, but he tilts his head, and his eyebrows are going up and down. At me? Yes, my old stretch-marked belly is showing, I’m wearing a mask, and I am “glistening” with sweat because I’m running away from the mask-fewer people. I’m not looking for a date.

Looking doesn’t count

Look at my left hand, fool. See the shiny diamond ring; I’m married. He hopefully says, “Can I help you with anything, any little thing at all?”

“NO, you cannot. Thanks.” I’m old enough to be his mother. He winks at me. I can feel him grinning beneath that mask; his eyes are smiling. As he walks away, I’m sure he is shaking that well-toned ass for me. He checks to see if I’m watching. I am. In America, no one gets arrested for looking.

I decide I’m done shopping for today. I’ll come out again later in the week. Enough is enough. I’m going home.

Originally published in medium.com - https://medium.com/no-air/step-back-you-dont-know-me-like-that-ab729d5730ec