The Case is Closed

 

            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. 
The man was clearly homeless.  He had left a rusty rolling cart outside the door filled with plastic bags and countless odds and ends- its presence an insult to the pristine white storefront.  Passersby had to skirt the thing, eyeing it with curiosity as they tried to see the window displays.  Bethany was unbothered by these facts and continued chatting with the man even though they made a strikingly odd couple.  His clothes were stiff with dirt, his face lined and unshaven while she sported gold rings on every finger and reapplied her pearly lipstick hourly.  Bethany wiped actual tears away when Harold left after one last hug.  “He’s such a dear!” she said to Nina.  “He loves asking people their sign. Don’t be surprised when he asks you again tomorrow!  He doesn’t forget, you see, just likes to ask.”  She caught Nina’s doubtful look.  “You’ll get to know him. He comes in every day without fail!” 

“Why?” Nina asked, crossing her arms and leaning one narrow hip against the counter.  Bethany looked puzzled.

“Well, why not, dear?” she asked and handed Nina the dusting cloth.

A year later, Nina stood in the same spot, tapping the glass with the key she kept on a coil around her wrist.  The job had fell far short of even her lowest expectations.  Working for commission had to be the most soul-crushing kind, she thought- every customer that departed empty-handed representing something she would be unable to buy or a credit card payment that would have to be sent in late.  There was no beauty in selling beautiful things- the wives and girlfriends looking ever hopeful, pouring over the cases, trying on the most expensive pieces they figured they could get away with, the men blanching at the price tags and looking wistfully towards the door.  The most common phrase besides Just looking that Nina heard was I don’t know…  The unspoken ends of those sentences bounced between the couples and filled the uncomfortable space between customers and saleswoman.  I don’t know….if we can afford it. I don’t know…if you deserve it.  I don’t know…if I’ll feel obligated if you buy this for me. I don’t know…if I want this enough to sacrifice a month’s rent for it. I don’t know…if I really like you that much. 

Nina detested indecision, considered it a sign of weakness.  She went places with a purpose, evaluated price and value in an instant and didn’t linger in that inconsiderate way that most of her customers were happy to do.  It was probably the thing that bothered her the most about Harold.  He had no purpose.  He made no useful contribution to anything.  He had never bought a damn thing and probably never would.  And to her endless frustration, he had some kind of celebrity status in the neighborhood.  She had seen him getting free cups of coffee at the bakery, free bowls of soup at the diner, and free newspapers at the newsstand.  The generosity of those people confused her, aggravated her.  Didn’t they know that you weren’t supposed to feed a stray?

The door swung open and a young couple walked in, arms around each other’s waists.  They couldn’t have been more than 17 or 18 and so she didn’t immediately jump up when they headed straight for the engagement rings.  She rolled her eyes at the game they were playing.  As if marriage was a sport.  Nina pushed a limp strand of her thin black hair behind her ear and looked back down at the catalogue she had been flipping through.  She knew that Marilyn, the store’s owner, was in the back office and could see the entire sales floor on the surveillance cameras.  Yet, she tried to convince herself that even Marilyn, cheery and bright as a Hello Kitty cartoon, would not see the point in trying to sell something to these two, who were currently acting out a preview of the honeymoon for their fictitious wedding. 

Nina looked away in annoyance just as Marilyn’s bubble shaped blond head peered out of the backroom door.  She gave an encouraging smile and nodded toward the couple, as if it was possible that Nina had yet to notice the only two people in the store.  Nina tacked on her own sales-smile and walked towards them.  The two stopped making out long enough to giggle at her offer of help and try on three of the biggest diamond rings in the case, before finally wandering out, leaving an empty yogurt cup on the counter.  Nina’s eyes burned holes in the backs of their skinny t-shirts as they left and the man entering at the same time caught her angry look.  He was taken back for a moment, unsure of whether to approach or not but did once Nina realized how she looked and flashed him a stiff smile. 

He was looking for a gift for his wife and, much to Nina’s approval, knew what he wanted.  His first choice, however, was a disappointment to her.  It was a square cut emerald set between two small diamonds on a gold band.  The emerald was a dusty deep green, sizable but low in quality, the color fading slightly from one end to the other.  There were also several visible flecks of carbon in the stone’s surface that marred it’s potential beauty.  Nina couldn’t see the point in setting such a low quality stone considering the extent of its imperfections.  She far preferred the lab-created stones the store also sold that were a perfect deep green and absolutely flawless.  Their color was bright and uniform and the pieces looked more modern and expensive.  In comparison, the natural stone looked shabby and old. 

She steered the man towards those flashier pieces, insisting that he look at them more closely, asserting that any woman would be far happier with a larger, more perfect stone. 

“I don’t know…” he said, eyeing the round cut stone set in a twisted band of white gold and diamonds that Nina had handed him.  “The other one has more character, I think.” 

“Trust me,” Nina said, leaning toward him across the counter.  “This one looks much better.”  He was good-looking and dark-haired with deep, thoughtful eyes and a well-fitting polo shirt.  Nina sighed inwardly.  She had long ago given up wishing that one of them would be shopping for their mother instead of their wife.  She pulled out another tray of rings to give him some more options when the front door swung open and Harold walked in. 

“Afternoon, Nina!” he called as shuffled around the shop, peering into the cases, leaning over to take a closer look at some of the jewelry.  Nina cringed.  She especially hated when Harold arrived while other customers were shopping.  It was a bad reflection on the store’s reputation, in her opinion. 

“What’s new there? How ya doin’ sir?” Harold said, planting his elbows on the counter next to the trays of emerald rings, almost touching Nina’s customer.  He gave Harold a polite nod and turned back to the rings.  Nina fumed.  This guy was a sure sale and she needed it, probably worse than ever.  Her last months’ sales had been sparse and her rent was overdue.

“Harold,” she hissed, but then made a concentrated effort to temper her voice.  “Please give this gentleman some space,” she said through clenched teeth.  She could tell that he was making the man uncomfortable.

“Of course, of course, gorgeous.  Don’t let me bother ya!”  He started to push back from the counter but as he did seemed to get tangled in the dragging hem of his pants  and went down hard in a dirty pile on the floor.   Nina heard a distinct crack as he fell and she knew her sale was lost. The customer crouched down to Harold’s aid and then looked back up to tell her to get help.  She ducked into the back room to get Marilyn, an ambulance was called and all hell broke loose.  The news that Harold was hurt spread down the street within minutes and by the time the paramedics wheeled him out, concerned business owners and store clerks crowded around to shout encouraging words and well-wishes to the crumpled little man on the stretcher.  Aidan, the yogurt shop manager, took Harold’s cart, promising to keep it in his back room until Harold was able to come get it.  Judy, who owned the kids’ clothing boutique, took his hand and offered to ride to the hospital with him.  And Marilyn sobbed and sniffled like a toddler and needed two people to help her get her purse and walk to her car, as she was far too upset to stay and close the store after such a trauma. 

Nina looked down at the large ring of keys Marilyn had tossed her way as she left, telling her to lock up.  She had never closed the store by herself and found it amusing that this was the circumstance under which she was finally given that trust.  Nina went back inside, leaving the crowd to linger behind her.  Their voices were suddenly cut off when the door closed, leaving her in eerie quietness.  A mere pane of glass separated her from Harold’s friends, but she felt miles away.  Fools, she thought.  At least he wouldn’t be in to bother her tomorrow.  She wondered if the emerald man would come back, but she guessed not.  It had been a mistake to confuse him by offering the better stones, she thought.  If she had just let him buy the ring with the flawed stone, he would have been out the door before Harold showed up.  Maybe the ring wasn’t as bad as she had thought.  Needing to see it, Nina walked over to the case of emeralds.  Her single key on the coil was hanging from the keyhole.  The tray with the imperfect ring, in fact every tray in the case, was empty.