The Runner

My first job was bagging groceries at Safeway. It was a new store and I was part of the opening crew. I gathered shopping carts from the parking lot, bagged groceries and helped load groceries into customers’ cars. Several times a day I swept the aisles and occasionally cleaned up a broken bottle or jar. My favorite part of the job though was bagging groceries. All the checkers were great to work with and the customers were often fun to talk to. There were many regulars that I remember fondly, yet whose faces I have forgotten. One couple though, that barely spoke at all, left the biggest impression on me.

The store had been open a few months. One weekday afternoon this couple came through my check stand that I had seen in the store before. They were obviously a couple and epitomized the saying opposites attract. He was tall and chubby. She was short and impossibly thin. His large frame accentuated how petite she was and her wraithlike presence made him look like a giant. I said hello in my normal cheerful way and barely got a grunt from either of them. I wasn’t offended as I understood immediately that they either were upset or just not very outgoing. I bagged their groceries in silence. When they had finished to pay I asked, as was customary, if they would like help out with their groceries. They declined.

I saw them next in a different check stand. I noticed they were as aloof with that checker and bagger as they had been with me. The bagger kept talking to them and seemed clueless that they were not interested in chatting. I could see them squirm whenever she opened her mouth. I felt bad because I sensed their discomfort was more than just social awkwardness. They declined her offer for help out and as they left I noticed his hair was different, not like he’d just had a haircut but something else. I thought nothing of it until I saw them again.

When I saw them again it was obvious his hair was falling out. I sensed their apathy to make eye contact and conversation was more deliberate than normal. I didn’t know how but they seemed to be growing more insular. They never smiled and there was a pronounced sadness about them. I wanted them to look me in the eye. I wanted them to talk. I wanted to help but I didn’t know how and they wouldn’t have let me anyway.

Many weeks passed before they came shopping again. On Sunday mornings there was one checker and one bagger for the first couple of hours. I opened that morning so I was bagging when the pair came into the store. When they came through the check stand, the checker and I both greeted them and they said good morning in their subdued way. I noticed immediately that he’d lost substantial weight, his eyes sinking into his once bulbous face; his hair growing ever thinner. They left that day, as usual, not wanting help out with the groceries. That was the last time I saw him.

I saw her one day while driving to my friend’s house. I had a rare Saturday off. It was around noon. I was driving down Union and there she was, running on the sidewalk against traffic. I recognized her immediately, the face, the boney frame. She was a whisper of a woman. I passed her at thirty miles an hour but it was her and she was alone.

A month or so later I saw her in the store. She was by herself. Her demeanor was no different. There was no smile, no interest in conversation, barely a greeting as she waited for her groceries to be bagged. The only thing different was that he was not there. She was alone.

I saw her often after that, running along Union or down 4th Ave. Sometimes it seemed she was making a big loop from 4th Ave down Duvall and from Sunset Boulevard back to Union. It was a miles long route. I wondered what she was thinking. I remembered my cross country and track days in junior high. Many things passed through my mind when I ran. I would daydream. Sometimes I made up stories or songs. I would relive memories as I ran. There was nothing else to do but breathe and think. I wanted to believe she was remembering him.

I had no idea what happened to him, no proof of his existence or his demise. I was sure though that he was gone. Physically they were opposites but their personalities were alike. Both were quiet, withdrawn, inward. At least when she had him, I thought, she had a kindred. Now she was alone with her quietness.

Eventually she stopped coming into the store and she stopped running, at least around the neighborhood near the Safeway. That was almost forty years ago. Oddly, I remember her, and him, like I remember friends and family that have passed on, their faces etched into my memory like paintings. I never knew their names and I never knew their story but there was a story and I wish I could tell it.