Tampons Aisle Five

by Rae Matthews

  I pull out my phone to text her fair warning.

  Ava: If I end up in jail tonight, it is entirely your fault! I just shoved a condom over some douche’s head so, yeah, if you have to bail me out, fair warning, I’m gonna kick your ass.

  I feel better after hitting send and think who am I kidding? He would never dare call the cops on me. How would he explain what happened to the police? He unwillingly allowed a girl to shove a condom over his head, which left him open to get his ass partially kicked by another girl. He is never going to tell anyone that story. And even if the picture gets shared among his friends I am sure he will come up with some story that explains it.

  I let out a small laugh as the vision of his face a split second before the condom made contact with his skin floods my mind. He thought he was all gagsta or liv’in the thug life and then BAM! he gets owned by a girl with a condom. I guess the bright side of me getting my period tonight is that I got to take out some of my pent up PMS aggression on someone who deserved it.

  I’m still smiling as I start to pass the five-dollar movie bins and slow my pace so I can scan the top layer. I’m not sure what it is about this damn bin. I know there’s nothing in it that would be a must-have movie classic, and yet it calls to me like a siren in the night. Each time I pass the oversized plastic box I feel I an uncontrollable desire to waste a few minutes rummaging through to see if I can find a hidden treasure. This time is no different. I stop next to the bin and toss movies around so I can scan the hidden titles.

  A few minutes later, I’m on cloud nine when I find a two-movie collection: Kate & Leopold along with Serendipity. They’re a must-have shark week DVD since they’re both great romcoms, plus how can I turn down five dollars for two movies? I can’t! It would be a crime worth calling the police on me for. I am riding the excitement wave as I toss the movies in my basket, silently congratulating myself on my awesome find. That is until I hear a soft voice speak.

  “Disgraceful.”

  The word startles me. I look up from the bin to find the speaker. I don’t immediately see anyone, so I turn to look behind me. I am slightly surprised to see a little old woman, shorter than I am, and she’s staring back at me. I continue to look around us to find who she might have been talking to. When I see no one else, I can’t hide the confused expression on my face.

  “I’m sorry, are you talking to me?" I ask, pulling my hand up to my chest.

  “Who else would I be talking too? You are the only one around,” she replies sharply.

  “Did you say disgraceful?”

  “Yes,” she replies sharply with a scowl on her face.

  I am so confused. I have no idea who this woman is, or why she is talking to me. Does she think I am someone else? Is she lost? Why is she here so damn late at her age?

  “I’m sorry can I help you in some way?” I ask her.

  “You can help me by dressing properly for an outing, you kids these days have no pride, and it is disgraceful,” she informs me.

  What? I mean What? I don’t understand her meaning. Dress properly for an outing? I am hardly dressing improperly for a trip to the store, in the middle of the night.

  I look down inspecting my clothes, blue jeans no holes in the wrong places, in fact, there are no holes at all, my newish black tee shirt wrinkle free with no stains, oh my god stains. My heart skips a beat thinking about what I can’t see. Did I freaking leak? Panicked I take a casual, yet panicked look to my crotch. Thank god, all clear. I look down to my shoes, they are nothing special, but I wouldn’t call them disgraceful. So now I’m thoroughly confused by this woman.

  “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean,” I say, using my most respectful tone.

  Any other time I would have shrugged it off and walked away assuming she was crazy, but she caught me at just the right moment. I was excited about my find and now she has me a little curious.

  “You kids today, you don’t know how to dress yourselves properly, you just have no respect for you or your family name. That is what I mean,” she snaps.

  My eyes blink slowly. Her answer wasn’t an answer at all. This woman truly is off her rocker. She had to have escaped from a retirement home or funny farm, or something. Rather than continue this insanity I smile, then nod in agreement and turn my attention back to the movie bin, quickly pick up a movie and pretend to read the back.

  “You are so ignorant that you don’t even know your crime do you?” she blurts throwing her arms up, her voice full of annoyance.

  “My crime? I am sorry, you’re right, I have no idea what you’re talking about. If my clothing has somehow offended you in some way I apologize, but there is nothing wrong with the way that I’m dressed,” I tell her, keeping my voice as soft and polite as possible.

  She might be off her rocker but, she is still my elder and my grandma would pull out her wooden spoon and throttle my ass if she found out I sassed an elder.

  She glares at me for a moment then she rolls her eyes and begins shaking her head. I stand watching, waiting for whatever comes next, and just as I think this little trip on the crazy train might be over, she starts to walk toward me with a scowl on her face. Thoughts of the headlines flash in my head as she moves closer to me, “Granny throws helpless woman over her knee and spanks her for wearing jeans in public,” or maybe, “Granny washes woman’s mouth out with soap in public bathroom as punishment for back talking.” On the other hand, possibly “Woman sent to stand in corner at local retailers to think about what she has done.”

  This is karmic payback for my condom attack, I just know it. Damn it, I should have stayed at home. Note to self: call Sue and yell at her for using all my damn Tampons.

  The old woman reaches behind me and I feel her pull tightly at the tag on the back of my shirt.

  “I don’t know how you dare leave the house like this, it is disgraceful,” she said pulling her arm away.

  “Excuse me?” I responded, my tone not hiding my new level of irritation.

  “You kids these days, just a bunch of disrespectful youths. I tell you, they have no respect for their appearance or their elders,” she mumbles as she starts to walk away shaking her head

  My jaw about hit the floor. I was half tempted to run after her and tell her what a crazy old woman she was, no way would a normal person be this agitated about a tag sticking out of a shirt. Luckily, I was distracted by a melodious voice.

  “Don’t mind her.”

  When I turn toward the voice to meet whatever new hell I will be shoved into I am shocked to see a tall, make-your-knees-weak handsome man standing on the other side of the movie bin. My jaw once again hits the floor.

  “I wouldn’t take anything she says to heart. She’s a little senile, comes in all the time and finds ways to complain about something,” he tells me.

  “I, ah, um,” I stutter.

  “Are you ok?” he asks

  It’s only then that I realize my mouth is still gaping open and that I haven’t managed to say a real word.

  “Sorry, yes, I’m fine, I was just um, well it was a little weird,” I tell him, letting a small embarrassed laugh out.

  “I’ve seen her around a few times. She’ll use any excuse to scold someone.”

  “So you don’t find my tag offensive?” I joke.

  “Well of course I do, how could I not, it is fashion rule number one, isn’t it?” he jokes back with a smile.

  We both begin to laugh, and I can feel my cheeks blushing.

  “Thank you, I think I needed that. My name is Ava,” I tell him.

  “I’m Liam.”

  “So what brings you to here so late?” I ask.

  “Oh you know, just needed to pick a few things up. You?” He says pulling his basket up and setting it on top of the movies.

  I scan the basket and see a car air freshener, an As Seen on TV gadget that I can’t quite see what it is exactly, a small roll of bubble wrap; all odd things to need in the middle of the night. Then again am I only thinking that beca
use I am painfully aware of what is in my basket. I quickly angle my body to the side attempting to hide the basket from his view. God, I hope he didn’t get a chance to see what was in mine.

  “Same here, I just needed a few things and I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Well I should probably get going.” He smiles making perfect eye contact with me.

  “Oh, ah, me too,” I stutter trying to act casual while glancing down to the floor.

  “Maybe I’ll run into you again sometime.”

  I smile. “I look forward to it.”

  Liam nods then shoots me one last smile before he turns to walk away in the opposite direction. Can I really just let him walk away? There was definitely some eye flirting going on. No, if he wanted my number he would have asked. Or maybe he likes women to take charge and ask for his number, or maybe he has a girlfriend, or maybe he is gay.

  Oh, fuck it. What do I have to lose?

  “Wait,” I shout.

  Liam stops and turns back toward me.

  “How about I give you my number, you know, in case you want some company next time you have to make a middle of the night shopping run.”

  Liam begins walking back toward me, his eyes locked to mine.

  “Sure, I’d like that.”

  “Give me your phone and I will put my number in.”

  Liam pulls his cell phone out of his back pocket with a noticeable hesitation; before he hands it to me he looks up toward the ceiling fixating on something for a second before his eyes come back to me.

  It’s odd for sure but I don’t care and quickly plug in my number into his contacts then hand the phone back to him.

  “So am I allowed to call you even if it is not for a middle of the night shopping spree?” he asks ginning, again looking to the ceiling.

  “Absolutely, I would love that” I answer with a smile.

  As I turn to leave I glance up toward the ceiling trying to find what he is looking at. I don’t see anything interesting and shrug it off.

  Coming down off my Liam high, I start to think about the old woman again and how this has been one hell of a freaking weird night. I wonder what the hell is going on with the stars. Is it a full moon? Is this a bad version of a gremlins parody movie, where after midnight any normal person who ventures to the twenty-four hour chain store, goes fucking bat-shit crazy? I don’t know what the trigger is here but, they seem to be multiplying. All I want to do at this moment is get some sugary goodness and some salty heaven and get the hell out of Dodge, go home to veg out for the next few days and wait to see if Liam calls me.

  I quicken my pace toward the food aisle as I repeat to myself, “Something salty and something sugary, something salty and something sugary, something salty and something sugary then I am out of here.”

  I avoid looking at anyone I pass, even the employees pretending to be busy as I walk by them. To stay focused I start thinking about what food I might want to comfort myself over the next forty-eight hours while I endure the whole I’m bloated, tired, cramping, angry for no reason, why can’t they play anything good on tv rollercoaster of fun.

  The salty goodies of aisle twelve catch my eyes first. I quickly turn down the aisle with the walls filled with boxed fat disguised as healthy treats on one side and the bagged oil saturated potatoes all waiting to attach itself to my ass on the other. Normally I try to limit the amount of junk food I eat, but not today. Not that I have any issue with junk food, it’s that I have absolutely no self-control. If I let myself, I would eat enough Ranch Doritos to build a bridge from my apartment to the moon and back, with no regard for waist size or cholesterol level.

  My week of Beaver Fever is the only time I allow myself to eat whatever I want however much I want. It helps me keep the rest of the month’s eating habits in check and makes having my period all that more enjoyable.

  I finish scanning both walls, then I toss Ranch Doritos, Pringles, and Cheetos into my basket. Before heading for the sweets, I take one last look to make sure I don’t want anything else. I spot the pizza-flavored, gluten-free chips. Now, I have no intention of getting the wrongfully-flavored pieces of cardboard, but, it does make me think about pizza; I may want to grab some frozen pizzas and pizza rolls before I leave.

  I leave the chips behind and start heading toward to the candy aisle. As I walk, I smile at the thought of the hot melted cheese stringing as I pick up a slice of deep dish topped with pepperoni. My mouth starts to water at the thought of the crispy crust resting on my tongue. Yes, I am definitely getting pizza!

  My mouth stops drooling by the time I turn the corner to locate one of my favorite period candies: Hershey’s White Chocolate Bliss. It has a mind-blowing hard chocolate shell that melts away to reveal a soft center of creamy chocolate that will send you into ecstasy the moment it hits your taste buds. Let me put it this way, if it was between sex and a Hershey Bliss, I would take the Bliss in a heartbeat. Actually faster than a heartbeat, because the heartbeat would have to try and catch up with me. Why you ask? Because putting this little morsel in my mouth is a guaranteed orgasm.

  I grab two bags and toss them into my basket and when I look back up I spot the classic little red box of Chocolate Covered Cherries. I haven’t had them in years. The memories of getting them in our stockings for Christmas reminds me of how much I used to look forward to them. I used to eat them slowly; I only allowed myself one each day so I could savor them longer. My taste buds would scream for another, but my mind was made up, only one per day.

  Yep four boxes straight into the basket, I am not dealing with that old one-a-day rule this week. I turn to search for something more to nibble on that wasn’t chocolate, when I spot a little old woman walking toward me.

  I take a deep nervous breath then release it when I see it is not crazy old tag lady. This one seems like she is really sweet, as we make eye contact she smiles then nods at me as we pass each other. I grab a few more artificially sweetened treats before I decide I have enough stock for now. All that is left if to grab my frozen salvation and I will be on my merry way.

  “Excuse me, miss?”

  Now what? I ask myself when I hear the nice woman call out to me. If I was the disrespectful youth the other woman thought me to be I would just keep walking, however, I am not so I don’t. I put a big smile on my face, spin on the balls of my feet and face her.

  “Yes?” I reply

  “Could you please help me? I am not as tall as I used to be and I can’t seem to reach the sugar packets,” she asks me softly.

  Yes! Something quick and simple, not crazy, and perfectly normal.

  “Of course I can,” I tell her as I walk back towards her and the sugar packets.

  “Oh you are such a sweet girl for helping an old shrinking woman,” she laughs.

  “It’s no trouble at all, really, I'm happy to help.”

  The woman points to the brand she wants on the top shelf, I reach for it effortlessly. Standing next to her I see there was no way she was going to be able to reach them. She would have had to climb up on the bottom shelf, balance herself and then try to reach the top shelf that still probably would have out of her reach.

  “Would you believe I used to be five foot eleven?” she asks me as I hand her the small box.

  “Ah, really?”

  “Oh heavens no, I’m just pulling yanking your chain. But I have shrunk over the years,” She says tapping my arm in jest.

  I smile empathetically. “That’s a bummer, I can’t imagine what it would be like.”

  I desperately want to walk away now that I have completed her request, but she continues to make small talk. I always feel bad when I am in this situation. I have no idea if she is lonely, looking for a friendly ear, or just being polite.

  “Well I tell you, growing older is no picnic, but there are some perks,” she says smiling “You get to watch your children and grandchildren grow up, you get to experience life in ways you can’t yet imagine. Then when you get to be about forty-seven you get to ditch that
monthly reminder you are a woman,” she says with a wink.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Oh I’m just teasing you; I saw the feminine product in your basket.”

  “Oh, I get it,” I laugh politely.

  “I do have to say though that when my monthly was finally done and over with for good I sat down and had a glass of wine to celebrate. Well, it might have been more than one glass.”

  “Yes, I suppose that is something to celebrate,” I laugh.

  Why are we talking about this? Is it rude if I tell her I have to go? How long am I required to stand here?

  “I remember the cravings and the bloating and I say good riddance to them,” she says excitedly tapping my hand.

  “Yeah, I suppose it’s the curse of being a woman,” I smirk.

  “I must say though, your choice of Chocolate Covered Cherries is an interesting one. I haven’t been able to eat them since I got my very first monthly,” she tells me while staring into my basket.

  I know I am going to regret asking this, I feel it in every bone in my body. Unfortunately, even knowing that, I can’t stop the words from flying out of my mouth.

  “Oh, really why is that?”

  “Well, you see, my mother had purchased a box for me to make me feel better about starting my monthly. She knew I love them, you see. But it was a hot August day and I let the last one sit out too long. See, back then we didn’t have air conditioning. Anyway, by the time I went back to the box, the last one was partially melted. When I picked it up, the chocolate flattened in my hand and ran down covering my fingers, and the cherry almost fell to the ground. I ended up having to lick my fingers clean.”