Eleven Hours. Paullina Simons
Didi headed for the Freshens Yogurt stand, which also sold pretzels. She knew she had only two speeds – slow and very slow. Weighed down with thirty pounds of baby and baby nesting plus Dillard’s, FAO Schwarz, and Coach shopping bags in her hands, she felt as if she were moving only through inertia, which dictated that bodies in motion stay in motion. She wished she were a body at rest.
‘Could I have an almond pretzel, please?’ Didi asked the teenage boy behind the counter. The words came out softly between short breaths.
‘Sure. Would you like any topping on it?’ he asked her.
‘No, thank you. Just a pretzel.’ A second later, she said, ‘Make that two. And some water, please.’
‘One pretzel for you, one for the baby,’ a voice next to her said. She turned her head to the right and found herself face to face with a young man. He had a wide friendly smile on his face. She smiled back, but – something in his face thinned her own smile. A small pit opened up inside her stomach. The feeling reminded her of high school days when she’d meet someone cute and her heart would fall a foot in her chest.
The falling didn’t come because he was cute, and her heart didn’t skip because she was excited. Her heart skipped because the man was looking at her with a warm smile of familiarity, with the smile of someone who’d known her for ages. Didi was sure she’d never met him.
There was something else odd about him, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
Reluctantly, she acknowledged him. ‘No, actually. One for me, one for my husband. The baby eats plenty as it is.’
‘Yeah, those babies can get mighty hungry,’ he said. ‘My wife had a baby boy a little while ago.’
‘That’s nice,’ she said, turning away from him. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?’ asked the guy behind the counter, handing Didi a white paper bag with two pretzels in it.
‘No. It doesn’t really matter,’ Didi said evasively.
‘Oh, you say it doesn’t matter,’ the friendly man beside her said. ‘But you know it matters a lot. We all want what we want.’
‘No, really,’ Didi said, wishing he would stop talking to her. ‘As long as the baby’s healthy.’ She studied him briefly. He was somewhere in his late twenties, clean-shaven, neatly dressed, thin, and of medium height. His light brown hair was carefully trimmed above his ears. He had blue or green eyes; Didi couldn’t be sure in the artificial light of the mall and didn’t want to look at him that closely. Underneath his navy nylon jacket he wore a white shirt. He wasn’t bad-looking.
‘Bet your husband wants a boy, though,’ the man said.
He doesn’t know I have a husband, Didi thought, and then remembered mentioning that one of the pretzels was for her husband. She was instantly upset with herself. Why am I being unkind to him? she thought. I’m being unkind and unchristian.
‘Bet your husband wants a boy, though,’ the man repeated evenly.
‘If he does, he isn’t telling,’ Didi said quickly. She took out three dollars and paid for the pretzels.
Taking a gulp of water, she gave the cup back to the salesclerk to throw out. She didn’t have a free hand to carry a drink. Throwing the change inside her purse, Didi said in a friendly voice, ‘Well, have a nice day.’
‘Yeah, you too,’ said the guy behind the counter.
The man followed her as she walked away from the store. Didi tried to speed up but realized it was impossible. He came up beside her and said, ‘Hey. Do you need help with those bags? They look so heavy.’
Didi tried to speed up again. Did she look as if she was languishing? ‘They’re fine, not too bad at all,’ she said. ‘But thanks. Have a nice day, okay?’
‘You sure? I don’t mind helping. Don’t have much to do right now. Really.’
She tried not to look at him. A troubled feeling settled on her heart – no, she thought, she was being silly.
She saw a Warner Bros store. ‘Really, I’m fine,’ she said, moving away from him. ‘Thanks anyway.’
She walked into the store without looking back, but the heaviness didn’t leave her chest.
Didi went toward the children’s section and looked around, putting down her bags and taking a few bites of the pretzel.
Suddenly she was no longer hungry and had lost her desire to shop. Deciding to call Rich, Didi pulled the cell phone out of her handbag. The cell phone was defective, with the number seven missing because little Reenie had eaten it on one of their weekend trips to Lake Texoma. It was time to get a new one.
What was odd about that man aside from his open smile? He acted as if he knew her, but that wasn’t what was odd. Something else. She wanted to cross herself. What’s the matter with you, Didi? she whispered, intently studying the plush Tasmanian Devils. Why are you being so uncharitable? He was just trying to help.
Her husband wasn’t picking up. What else was new? His message machine answered. ‘It’s just me,’ Didi said after the beep. ‘Calling from the mall, hoping I could meet you a little earlier.’ She paused and thought about turning around. ‘It’s okay. I’ll see you at one, I guess. Bye.’
She picked out a couple of T-shirts for her girls and turned to walk to the cash register. She saw him immediately. He was near the Tweety Bird clocks. He appeared to have forgotten her completely.
At the register, Didi took out cash to speed the transaction.
‘Linda, look!’ the salesgirl exclaimed to another salesgirl. Then to Didi, ‘Wow, you’re really pregnant.’
‘Yeah,’ said Didi, smiling as kindly as she could. ‘I’m also in a real hurry, so…’ She slid two twenties across the counter, but the money didn’t impress the salesgirls.
‘When are you due?’ Linda asked, looking warmly at her.
‘Just a few weeks,’ Didi said, chewing her lip. The salesgirl scanned the T-shirt tags with near-deliberate slowness. Didi thought of walking out, but she didn’t want the man to think she was nervous or in a hurry. She wanted him to think she had forgotten him completely, too.
‘Do you know what you’re having?’ asked Linda.
‘No, I have no idea,’ said Didi.
‘Don’t want to know?’
‘No, not really.’ Didi started tapping her fingernails on the counter. The nails were short, and the tapping wasn’t satisfying.
‘Oh, I’d want to know,’ Linda said.
Didi pushed the twenties so far to the edge of the counter that they fell to the floor. The salesgirl said, ‘Oh, look – your money.’ And for some reason she found the falling cash amusing and laughed. Linda chuckled with her. Didi tried to smile.
Suddenly, Didi sensed someone standing behind her and felt afraid.
She willed herself to turn around. An elderly gray-haired man in a suit nodded politely to her. The man in the jacket was still near Tweety Bird. Didi felt both relieved and silly.
Linda moved to help the elderly man, while Didi’s salesgirl looked for a bag for the T-shirts. ‘The total came to twenty-eight seventeen,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Did you only give me a twenty?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Didi said. ‘Two twenties fell on the floor. Listen, if it’s too much trouble –’
‘No, no, of course, two twenties.’ The girl bent down, picking up the money. She keyed forty dollars into the register. ‘Your change is eleven eighty-three,’ she said, taking the money out of the drawer. ‘That’s twenty-nine –’ giving Didi the