like it's on rails
"I'm guessing you don't shop here."
I turned my head towards him. I was matching him stride for stride in my heels as we clicked through the aisles of Food Maxx, in search of vodka and string cheese.
No man who owned a suit or a car as nice as he did shopped at Food Maxx. It was a rhetorical question, but he answered it because he was polite.
"I've been in here a few times. My ex-girlfriend liked to shop here." He mentioned something about his ex-wife who he'd been with for 33 years, and seemed vulnerable for a moment.
"Of course," he said, "It did help my ego a little that her new boyfriend was standing in line for the bathroom and saw me walk out with two beautiful young ladies."
We had only used the men's restroom because of the long line in the women's. I found that to be hilarious for some reason. Probably because I was drunk at 9:30 pm and walking through a bargain grocery store with someone I had met only hours before. My string of amazing decisions were starting to amuse me.
I asked him what he did for a living, trying to make conversation, and he answered.
I looked at him for a second. "Do you like it?"
I suddenly realized how naive I must have sounded, a 25 year old who still felt like that mattered, like it made a difference.
We grabbed the string cheese and headed towards the front of the store to stand in front of the wall of hard alcohol.
I looked down at my feet. I was either starting to sober up or had suddenly remembered that they existed.
"How unclassy would it be if I took my shoes off right now?" I already knew the answer to that, but I needed validation.
"It doesn't matter. Take them off."
He said it with a careless abandon, with a tone that only someone with a lot of money who doesn't give a flying fuck what anyone else thinks would use.
I felt like I was in Pretty Woman.
I suddenly realized that he wasn't at all embarrassed to be in a grocery store with me, the friend of the girl he was really interested in, who was waiting in the car.
He had leaned in closer at the benefit when he had asked me about what I wanted to do, and had I started talking about nursing and midwifery before she came up to us, saying that she wanted to leave.
He paid for the vodka and string cheese and I didn't feel guilty about it. I paused near the door to slip my heels back on. He asked me to take his arm. I slid my arm through the crook of his and we walked through the parking lot towards his jaguar in silence for a few seconds.
I didn't look at him.
"You're okay," I said.
"You're going to be a great nurse."
"Thank you."
I tried not to smile.
I turned my head towards him. I was matching him stride for stride in my heels as we clicked through the aisles of Food Maxx, in search of vodka and string cheese.
No man who owned a suit or a car as nice as he did shopped at Food Maxx. It was a rhetorical question, but he answered it because he was polite.
"I've been in here a few times. My ex-girlfriend liked to shop here." He mentioned something about his ex-wife who he'd been with for 33 years, and seemed vulnerable for a moment.
"Of course," he said, "It did help my ego a little that her new boyfriend was standing in line for the bathroom and saw me walk out with two beautiful young ladies."
We had only used the men's restroom because of the long line in the women's. I found that to be hilarious for some reason. Probably because I was drunk at 9:30 pm and walking through a bargain grocery store with someone I had met only hours before. My string of amazing decisions were starting to amuse me.
I asked him what he did for a living, trying to make conversation, and he answered.
I looked at him for a second. "Do you like it?"
I suddenly realized how naive I must have sounded, a 25 year old who still felt like that mattered, like it made a difference.
We grabbed the string cheese and headed towards the front of the store to stand in front of the wall of hard alcohol.
I looked down at my feet. I was either starting to sober up or had suddenly remembered that they existed.
"How unclassy would it be if I took my shoes off right now?" I already knew the answer to that, but I needed validation.
"It doesn't matter. Take them off."
He said it with a careless abandon, with a tone that only someone with a lot of money who doesn't give a flying fuck what anyone else thinks would use.
I felt like I was in Pretty Woman.
I suddenly realized that he wasn't at all embarrassed to be in a grocery store with me, the friend of the girl he was really interested in, who was waiting in the car.
He had leaned in closer at the benefit when he had asked me about what I wanted to do, and had I started talking about nursing and midwifery before she came up to us, saying that she wanted to leave.
He paid for the vodka and string cheese and I didn't feel guilty about it. I paused near the door to slip my heels back on. He asked me to take his arm. I slid my arm through the crook of his and we walked through the parking lot towards his jaguar in silence for a few seconds.
I didn't look at him.
"You're okay," I said.
"You're going to be a great nurse."
"Thank you."
I tried not to smile.