Maria made it to the end of the line behind an ancient woman in a velvet tracksuit the color of orangutan hair.
The line to get inside the building had grown even longer in the five minutes it took Maria to find a parking spot. More and more people walked up in singles or pairs to wait patiently six feet behind the next patron.
10:36 a.m. Maria stuffed her phone back into her purse. Waiting in line for anything was near the top of her list of the things she hated most in life. That her children’s safety depended on her getting through this line didn’t help her nerves. And what if the line took hours to move a few feet? Dread drifted across her thoughts, coloring every single one in a dismal gray film. She knew it was stupid to think that it could take six hours to get through the lines, but sometimes it was too easy to let a situation creep under your skin.
Relax and count to thirty.
Breathe in and out.
Just like yoga class.
Maria willed the negativity away, pulled in clean, hopeful air with each deep breath, and exhaled all the bad.
It could have been nothing, but her shoulders felt lighter after three repetitions of clean breathing, and after another five minutes of it, waiting in line was completely bearable.
From then on the line seemed to move quicker. Before long she was around the corner, past the car care center, and nearly to the front door.
Two groups ahead in line stood a chic couple who could have been straight out of LA. They held hands and chatted as if nothing at all was wrong in the world. The man’s skin tight jeans fabulously gripped his thighs and ass.
How long had it been since she’d been out with a guy? Eight months? Nine? She could have had another child in the amount of time it had been since she’d last been fucked. That was pretty pathetic. The thoughts brought back a film of negativity that Maria tried to push out of her mind. Today was about her kids, not about her pathetic love life. Maybe not completely pathetic. Her list of why her sex toy collection was better than a man seemed to grow every week; no talking back, no attitude, they didn’t drink all her wine, didn’t care what she looked like naked, and she could use them whenever she liked. It had been a while since she’d last bought a toy; she’d have to go check out her favorite site when she got home to see if they’d got anything new in stock.
“Please have your membership cards out and ready to show at the door.” A Costcart worker in the same bright red vest as all the other Costcart employees called from the front of the line.
Maria was jolted back to reality and she dug for her card.
“Oh, hell no.”
The slot in her purse where she kept her membership card was empty.
“No, no, no.” Of course this would happen to her, today, after waiting in this godforsaken line for almost an hour.
Serg and Ameli came to mind and Maria dug harder, only barely crushing the urge to dump the entire damned purse out onto the ground. “No, no, no.” But the card was nowhere. “Shit.”
“Have you checked your pockets?” Of course the thirty-something hot guy behind her had noticed her panicking.
Heat rose to her throat, her face. “I, no, not yet.” Front pockets of her jeans; nope. Her hand hit hard plastic in her back pocket. “No!” She pulled out a worn Costcart card with her picture and name on the back. “Yes!” Her face was the surface of the sun, but she’d found it! All negativity blasted from her being and she wanted to plaster the man with kisses and more to show her gratitude. “I’d kiss you, but you know, social distancing and all.”
The hot guy’s smile only made her want to go home and revisit her toy collection even more. “I would gladly accept if, you know.” The hot guy motioned as if an invisible barrier stood between them. “But better safe than sorry, I guess.”
“I guess so.” It felt like Maria had won the lottery.
“Next members, please.” The Costcart employee’s words made the line surge forward as if he’d said they’d restocked toilet paper.
With all worries of not being able to provide for her children gone, Maria followed the orangutan tracksuit into the store.
◆◆◆
Maria found herself humming a Cranberries song from the late nineties that always seemed to come to mind when things were going well.
In no time, the shopping list on her phone had dwindled to nothing and her cart was full to the top with non-perishables like Super Power Protein Cakes pancake mix and double packs of peanut butter. She’d found plenty of laundry detergent, paper towels, olive oil, quinoa, canned tomatoes, beans, and those glass jars of massive green olives stuffed with pimento bits that went well with a post-work glass of Merlot. All in all it had been a fantastic shopping experience.
After racking her brain for the best thing to eat for dinner that night, beef came out the clear winner. She’d never once cooked steak and not had Sergio and Ameli calling for more from in front of their empty plates at the dinner table. Both of her kids liked vegetables and fruit more than chocolate or french fries. She had no idea how she’d gotten so lucky on so many levels. Cooking for Serg and Ameli was one of the most fulfilling things she did in life and she got to do it every day. Tonight the kids would eat steak, and when they begged for seconds, she’d deliver.
She heaved her loaded shopping cart to a stop against the edge of the long, open-topped refrigerator lining Costcart’s back wall. Behind the span of refrigerators stood wide windows
