Salute to Summer

“Let’s go somewhere,” he says. He leans over the counter, elbows resting upon it, and lets his grinning eyes search my face. I bag a six pack of Corona and reach for the tenth pack of cigarettes he’s come in for this week. I can’t hide my smile.

“Like a date?” I ask, and he breaks eye contact with me for a split second to grab a pack of gum.

“You can call it that if you want, but…” he stops, glint leaving his eyes, and bites his lip. “I wanna take you to the coast.”

I stop bagging and stare at him blankly. Then I laugh.

“There’s no coast in Minnesota,” I tell him, “only lakefronts and riverbanks.”

“I know that.”

“Sixteen twenty-seven, please.”

“I wanna take you to California.”

I look at him funny and take the twenty from his hand.

“Will you come?” He asks, smile returning to his eyes.

“I think there’s a rule against employees following people to other states,” I answer sarcastically.

He bites at his lip again, then digs around for something in his wallet. He pulls out an old receipt, nods at the pen on the register, and takes it from me almost daintily as I hand to him without grace. He scribbles a name and a number and offers to receipt and pen to me, a pleading look in his eyes.

“Just think about it, okay?”

I take the slip from his hand, looking for a sign of tomfoolery anywhere on his face, in his movements, in his words. I can find none.

“Sure,” I say hesitantly. “I’ll do that.”

He doesn’t look convinced. Either way he grins at me and reaches for his bags. I hand him a new receipt, slipping the one from him into my back pocket.

“Desmond,” he says abruptly.

“Excuse me?”

“Desmond. That’s my name.”

“Ah. I’m –”

“Emma. It’s…on your name tag.”

“Right. Have a nice day.”

“You should make it better for me. Call me. Tonight.”

I give him a half smile and wave awkwardly as he turns from the registers, striding past checkout lanes, through automatic doors, into the parking lot, and out of view.

Another customer wanders into my lane. I decide I won’t call him tonight.