Answering Machine

“Dammit,” I swore under my breath, beginning to wish I hadn’t insisted that there was no need for John to accompany to the grocery store. I put my hands on my hips and stared up at the top shelf, frowning as I tapped my foot impatiently against the ground. My efforts at grabbing the box of Honey Nut Cheerios were helpless. I could stand on my tiptoes and swat my hand around, hoping to knock one of the boxes closer to my grasp, but those actions were fruitless. There was no way in hell I could get closer to the shelves, what with my round, protruding belly getting in the way. I was just about ready to give up when I could make out the faint sound of my cell phone buzzing away in my purse.

I dug through the abyss of my bag before pulling out the small, ringing device, and smiled at the screen.

“Do you have ESP?” I asked as soon as I answered the phone, leaning my elbows against the grocery cart.

“No, I don’t think so,” John chuckled from the other end of the call. “Why?”

“Well, I was just thinking how I should have asked you to come along, so you could reach this box of Cheerios on the top shelf, and then, lo and behold, you called,” I explained, beginning to absentmindedly push the cart back and forth with my elbows.

“Hang on,” he instructed after a moment. I rolled my eyes and decided to give up entirely on the Cheerios situation, strolling down the aisle in search of other groceries.

“What are you doing?” I asked with a laugh, because I could still hear him making noise and fumbling around on his end.

“I was checking to see if, since I so obviously have some sort of telepathic connection with you, I also have teleportation abilities that I was previously unaware of.”

“So what’s the verdict?” I asked, stifling a loud guffaw of laughter as I pulled a box of pasta from the shelf and placed it in the cart in front of me.

“Well, seeing as I’m not at the grocery store yet, I’m willing to bet I’ve turned out to be quite powerless.”

“So sorry to hear that,” I sympathized, turning down yet another aisle. “Was there a reason you called, aside from your telepathy?”

“No, not really,” he responded, and I smiled, practically able to hear his shrug. “Why didn’t you let me come with you, again?”

“Because you hate grocery shopping,” I reminded him. “Besides, I spend about seventy five more dollars than I need to whenever you come.”

“Well, yeah,” he countered, “because you never buy anything good!”

“You are such a seven-year-old,” I teased, smiling to myself. By now, I had made it through most of the grocery store, and the shopping cart in front of me was beginning to look tediously filled to the brim.

“You love me,” he retorted, as if it was the best comeback he could manage.

“I know,” I replied, practically a hum as I began to head to the shortest checkout lane I could find. As I made my way through the front of the store, an elderly couple ambled happily past me, and I couldn’t help the smile that slid across my face or the sigh that escaped my lips as I watched them stop, smiling and arm-in-arm, in front of a display of juices.

“You okay?” John’s voice interrupted my thoughts, and I shook my head, remembering that I was still on the phone.

“Yeah,” I assured him, taking a moment to let the sap in me think contently that that old couple smiling at a display of grape juice would be John and me someday. “I love you, John.”

“I love you, too, Linds,” he replied with a small chuckle, and I suddenly realized how awkwardly placed my profession must have sounded after he had somewhat jokingly stated the fact just a mere few minutes ago.

Nevertheless, I simply smiled to myself as I began placing my groceries onto the conveyor belt, and told John I would see him at home in a few minutes before ending our call. I finished piling the groceries onto the belt and watched idly as the cashier scanned every item and placed them in bags, before I paid and eventually made my way outside, to my car, and home.

“Don’t lift another finger!” John ordered as soon as I stepped in the front door with a grocery bag hanging from my hand. I quirked an eyebrow at him and he simply grinned, stepping closer to me.

“What?”

“You’ve been out all day running errands,” he said, taking the bag from my hand and setting it on the table. “Why don’t you take a break?”

“I’m pregnant, John,” I muttered, rolling my eyes, “not an invalid.”

I took his advice, anyway, as he bounded out the door to retrieve the rest of the groceries, and collapsed onto the couch in the living room. It only took him a few minutes to transport everything from the back of my car to the kitchen, and to sort everything into its rightful residence in the cupboards and refrigerator, before he was plopping himself next to me on the couch.

“I’m coming with you next time,” he insisted, draping his arm over my shoulders as I leaned into him.

“Okay, good,” I yawned with a nod, resting my head against his shoulder as I suddenly felt exhaustion cloud me like a veil. “’Cause it didn’t seem as if anyone there wanted to help the ugly pregnant woman and reach down a box of Cheerios.”

“You are not ugly,” John argued, kissing the top of my head. I let out a snort of a laugh and looked up at him.

“It looks like I’m trying to grow the world’s largest watermelon off of my stomach,” I told him, pointing at my belly for emphasis.

“That only makes you more beautiful,” he promised, bringing his face closer to mine to kiss me. I smiled and kissed him back, before pulling away and burying my face in the crook of his neck.

“Thank you,” I mumbled against his skin.

“For what?” he asked, running his hand comfortingly up and down my arm.

“Everything.”