I'll Point You to the Mirror

She’s got style…

There was the time of day, usually from three to four in the afternoon that little happened in the shiny, brightly lit establishment. The rows were empty and untouched as the cashier girls gossiped and filed their nails carelessly, enjoying the lack of customers. Everyone hated the slowness of it all, the way that you could hear the lights overhead buzzing and the vomit-inducing smell of the center aisles was stronger than ever with no one coming in and out of the doors.

But personally, it was my favorite time of the whole day.

I didn’t hold an important job sweeping and arranging the rows of the small, family owned grocery store but it supplied me with a sufficient amount of money and gave me something to do with my time. It also gave me a reason to be here between the hours of three and four in the afternoon, the slowest hours of the day, the time when little was heard,
the time when Avery J. Cutler walked through the market‘s doors.

Around the same time nearly every day the tiny, brunette girl would stumble through the automatic door of the market, ear buds shoved deep into her hears and music blaring out of them as she scuffed her converse against the clean linoleum floors. I knew that I would have to scrape those marks off later but watching her like that, I didn’t even care.

Everyday, she walked to the back to the store and opened the big glass door, cringing at the cold gust of refrigerated air, and grabbed a bottle of Saratoga water. Before she let the door close, she’d take a single swig of the chilled liquid. I highly doubt she was testing it or would ever consider putting it back, but it was something she always did, no fail.

She would turn on her heels and let the door shut behind her with a slight thump, creating the only sound in the store. Avery J. Cutler would march down the junk food aisle, set for the register and walk right past me.

Every day, Avery J. Cutler would do this. And never once did she bother to even glance my way.

Today was no exception.

September 3rd happened to be today and it wasn’t different from any other. Avery J. Cutler came in and did what she always did and today I was lucky enough to be within earshot of the conversation she had with Charlene, the girl at the cash register apparently in Avery J. Cutler’s homeroom.

“Aloha Char.” she greeted her, pulling the left earphone out of her ear.

“Hello Miss Avery.” she returned, quickly glancing over at me to see if I was looking, a useless effort I thought because I always was. Just like every other day.

But today wasn’t like every other day in the way that today, Avery J. Cutler’s curiosity got the best of her and she turned her head to see what Charlene was looking at. It was the first time that Avery J. Cutler’s eyes had ever met mine in the time that I’d watched her walk in and out of this store, a good two months.

But it was over within seconds. I was pathetic.

I watched as Charlene gave her a strange smile and the two shared a small laugh and I wondered if they were talking about me and my incessant stares. The thought ate at my nerves and made my stomach churn, embarrassment seeming to be present in my system. I knew Charlene was aware of my infatuation with this girl, but I never thought that she’d let on about it.

Paranoid over such an insignificant encounter, I inched my way towards the back of the store, my sorry attempt to get myself out of view. Today, I would sweep my way up the aisle instead of down, it was as simple as that.

All I heard was the jingle of the door as Avery J. Cutler left the building. But I knew her routine well enough to know she wasn’t gone.

“Jake!” Charlene’s voice traveled down the row of produce.

Instead of yelling back, I walked to the register as to not disturb the three-to-four peace and quiet, “Yes?” I said, my tone slightly mocking.

A small smile crept up on the pretty girl’s face as she pointed and turned her eyes to the door where, just on the other side, a girl was banging her tiny fist on top of the quarter machine with anger.

My stomach dropped and I could feel my heartbeat increasing by the second. I looked back to Charlene who was smiling like a maniac. “I need you to fix the machine, Jake.”

No. No. That’s what I thought I had said.

But apparently, I had nodded and complied without argument as my legs carried me to the door and through to stand by Miss Avery J. Cutler.

Hello fascination.