She slid
the glass door open on the jewelry case as the small man walked away. She had
been dusting the inside of the case when he came in but always made sure to
lock it when he was there. He was a
plague on her days, a recurring dark spot on her otherwise smooth hours. His stale scent lingered in the over-lit
space of the store and so she pulled out a can of lemon-scented air freshener
and gave a discreet spray as the door swung shut behind him. His departure left her alone, as was common on
these endless weekday afternoons. At
times she longed for customers, prayed for them, mentally bargained for them-
promising to give up caramel lattes, misplaced negativity and shoe shopping if
someone would just walk in the door and buy something. But then, when someone finally did walk in it
was a struggle to make herself greet them, to force her mouth into a smile, to
let her eyes shine and her voice suggest and sell.
The days
were long, especially now in the summer when the sun set slowly and people
lingered on the sidewalks. The store had
the misfortune to be next to one of those self-serve frozen yogurt places that had
been popping up like a rash across the area.
She was convinced their main goal was to test the collective sugar
tolerance of humanity. At night she had
begun to have nightmares about cleaning the sticky rings and smudgy
fingerprints left behind from customers who felt like gawking at jewelry as
they ate their yogurt treats. She passed
the days swiping a cloth over the glass, back and forth, removing the residue
of those aimless shoppers, cursing the yogurt stand, and counting the hours
until closing.
Harold arrived
every day at 3:45. The jewelry store was
just one stop on his daily rounds of the shops on Middlesex St. He took slow, careful steps down the
sidewalk, gently swung open the heavy glass doors of each business and often called
out a sweet Hello! to the cashiers,
waitresses, receptionists and sales people who had long ago learned his name and
routine. Nina dreaded the moment of his
arrival, waiting with renewed hope each day that he would not appear. She was rewarded with a daily dose of disappointment
when Harold hobbled his bent form across the sales floor and leaned his dirty
elbows on the counter over the emeralds.
“Hello,
gorgeous,” he would say, bearing his yellow teeth in a wide grin, ignoring or not seeing her discomfort or
false smile. “What’s your sign?”
The first time he had asked her, on
her very first day of work at the store, she was caught completely off-guard
and answered without thinking.
“Uh, Taurus,” she had said, unsure
of what exactly the man wanted. Bethany,
the owner’s aunt and the woman whom Nina had been hired to replace, gave a moan
of sadness.
“Oh Harold! I’m gonna miss you,
honey!” she said, bustling around the counter to give him a hug. Nina could see the dust rise off of his shirt
as Bethany patted him enthusiastically on the back. “It’s my last week, if you can believe it!
Twenty-two years of selling this stuff, and now I’m done, headed for Florida
for good. But what am I gonna do without
seeing your handsome face every day?” she said, as Harold beamed a gap-toothed
grin and they wasted the better part of the next half an hour gossiping about
the other businesses on the street.
Nina was unable to hide the disgust
she felt.
