Help on Register Three, Please

Cole Parker

colepark@gmail.com

I was embarrassed. I was 18 and had never bought condoms before, and here I had to stand in the check-out line with them. The people in front of me didn’t bother me, it was the ones behind. They’d see the things being rung up.

There was a youngish looking girl who’d taken over the register from the middle-aged man who’d been working there. I’d got in his line on purpose. But now, all three registers had lines, and I didn’t want to go to the back again. I was just going to have to gut it out.

I must have looked nervous as I put my items on the conveyor belt, because the girl looked at the things, then up at me, and got a funny look on her face, her eyes opening a little wider. She was a couple of years older than me. She had dirty blonde hair and both the air about her and the clothes she was wearing under her store cloak, along with the tattoo I saw peaking out of the neck of her shirt, said ‘trailer trash’ loud and clear.

There was a grandmotherly type lady behind me who didn’t seem to be paying too much attention to anything except slowly putting her own items onto the belt. I hoped I could finish and get out of there before she looked up. There was a teenaged boy and girl behind her. They were both looking at me.

The clerk waited till I made eye contact with her again, then spoke in a sort of Southern drawl, and way too loudly. “Did you find everything you need, Hun?’’ She had an aggressive, brassy way about her.

“Yes, thanks.”

“OK, let’s see here. A dozen condoms, regular size, lubricated, with a reservoir tip.” Her voice was still too loud. Why did she have to say what I was buying? Why not just ring them up?

“A tube of K-Y jelly, regular size. Sure you don’t want two of these, Huh?”

Damn her!

“Some medicated wipes. Say, we have a new brand, just got them in. They’re scented. You might want to try those. They make you smell real fresh. No matter what you’re wiping, or why.”

She looked at me questioningly, like she was giving me an opportunity to exchange the wipes I was buying with the ones she was recommending.

“Could you just ring me up, please? I’d like to move on.” I spoke softly, and with some urgency which I hoped would be transmitted to her.

“Oh, sure Hun, I don’t want to hold you up none. I can see you’re in a big hurry. Must have a busy night planned out ahead of you. Say, I’ve got some chocolates on sale, that might get her in the mood. Oh, wait a sec.” She stopped and sort of obviously looked me over. “Or him in the mood. I’d hate to see all this prep work go to waste.”

She smiled, but there wasn’t any humor in it. She was trying to embarrass me even more than I already was. She was playing with me.

I’m sure I was blushing now. I felt hot. The grandma was done loading the belt and was now looking at the few things I was buying, then at me, then down at the counter again. The teens were grinning like they’d won a jackpot.

“Sure you got everything you need, Hun? We’ve got some nice douches, different flavors. And for afterwards, how about a nice can of feminine deodorant? She’d love it to know you were thinking of her, and wanted to make her smell nice down there, after?

If I could have shriveled up and disappeared, I’d have been happy to. But she was going to draw this out as long as she could. And I just had to take it.

I looked up at her, gathering some courage. ‘You know, that feminine spray might be a good idea. Can you get someone to bring a can up here?”

Her quizzical look made me know she was thinking, and then her grin told me she was on to me, that I was trying to brazen this out. She gave me a cocky smile that said two could play this game.

She picked up her telephone, hit a couple numbers, then spoke into handset. “Customer at register three wants a can of feminine hygiene spray,” rang out over the PA. Then holding the phone so her voice, and mine, could still be heard over the PA system, asked me, “Do you want the large size, Hun? And what brand do you usually use? We have several.”

“Anything,” I said. “Just hurry up!”

She got back on the PA. “He says he needs that feminine spray in a hurry. Sort of an emergency, I guess. Bring the lilac scented one. I think he’ll like that. It’s strong.”

Then we waited. For some reason, the people in line didn’t seem as impatient as people usually are who have to wait for a slow moving line. The clerk was just grinning at me. I was looking at the floor, wanting this to all be over.

Finally a young teen ran up with a can. “This what you want?” he asked the clerk.

“Ask him; it’s his,” she replied.

I grabbed it from him and put it on the counter. He grinned and left.

Finally I paid for everything. She bagged my things, then said, “Have a good night, Hun. Hope you’re better in bed than in the check-out line.”

I took the bag from her, reached in, and handed her the feminine spray. “Here, I said. This is for you. You need it.”

I was already walking away when I heard loud laughter from the line behind me, and then clapping. I was grinning as I left the store.

THE END