Grocery Shopping

Grocery Shopping

By Chris Carbone 

  It was supposed to be a day of rest. Sunday--that tiny and democratic aperture of time when even a one-bedroom apartment smack-dab in the middle of a food desert cannot suck the wind out from the sails of relaxation, and a family as hard-working and pragmatic as the Williamsons should be able to loosen a few clenched muscles just enough to figure out some activity for the afternoon. In a perfect world, maybe…

  At least the two oldest children have. Hector, nine, and Laura, eight, are engaged in tossing a paper airplane back and forth that Hector had fashioned out of some form or flyer (he didn't care to peruse the contents), that he snatched off their little kitchenette table. It flies in and out of the bedroom, which the brother and sister are resigned to sharing. Hector jumps onto the top bunk (his) and launches the paper craft down and out of the bedroom, past Laura, and onto the living room couch. It lands right in between his parents. His father, Lou, quickly picks it up. His neck twists around and locks eyes with the boy. 

  “Hector, come over here.” 

  Hector slowly climbs his way down the small, wooden ladder onto the floor, and comes out of the bedroom. He stands next to the couch. Lou stands up. 

  “Not here. Over here,” as Lou grabs his hand and leads him to a corner of the tiny room that is right next to their front door. 

  “Lou, what are you doing?” inquires Luciana, his wife. 

  “Just a quick talk with the boy.”

  Lou turns back to his son. He waves the paper airplane in front of his face and continues in a murmur, “ Do you know why I am upset that this landed where it did?” 

  Hector, after a pause, “Because that’s where you and mom sleep?” 

  Lou pauses too, now, as if that offends him, “Was the bed rolled out?” 

  “No.” 

  “Did it look like we were asleep?” 

  “No.” 

  “Then wouldn’t you agree that that’s not why I’m upset about it?” 

  “I guess…” 

  “You guess.”

Their six-month old baby, Eda, starts crying from her tiny crib next to the couch. Luciana picks her up and consoles her. Laura stands and watches both interactions taking place. She is not sure which one she wants to invest her attention in more. 

  “What did it look like was happening?” continues Lou. 

  “You and mom were talking.” 

  “Correct. We were talking about grocery shopping, which is a thing that directly concerns you and your sisters. Someday, and I hope that it doesn’t come, you’ll have to have serious conversations…as a man; and it is important to be serious during those conversations. Do you understand?” 

  Hector nods. 

  “If I give this back to you, is it going to interrupt this conversation again?” 

  “No…” 

  “I have your word on that?” 

  “Yes, dad.” 

  Lou hands the paper airplane back to him. Hector takes it slowly and heads into the bedroom. 

  “Hector! Throw it here,” says Laura as she follows him. 

  Eda, now rocked back into slumber, is returned to her crib. Luciana and Lou both sit back on the couch. She stares at her husband. 

  “What?” he asks; a bit annoyed. 

  “What did you say to him?” 

  “Just a little man-to-man pep-talk. Can we get back to this issue at hand?” 

  A long inhale from Luciana, followed by a sigh, “Alright, then. What about Smart Shopper?” 

  “Do we have the flyer? With the coupons?” 

  “From last week. Not from this week.” 

  “No good, then. What else?” 

The kids come back out. 

  “Well, that makes it just about every grocery store in the area, Lou.” 

  “International Foods, Daddy, International Foods!” shouts Laura. 

Luciana watches as her daughter prances around the room; continuing to chant the name of this new, internationally-focused grocery store that has opened up near them. She turns to her husband and, with a shrug, “There’s International Foods.” 

  “What is all this excitement about it?” 

  “They have good plantains. You know how much you like--”

  “We might as well--”

  “Daddy, everyone at school shops there,” protests Laura. 

  “We’re not everyone at school. International Foods…just out to tug at the homesick heartstrings of people like us…and our purse strings.”

  “But Dad--”

  “Laura, your father is right. It’s just too expensive to shop there.” Luciana grabbed the paper airplane from Laura and threw it back into their bedroom. “Now, go play.” Laura ran after it; Hector strolled. 

  Luciana got up and placed Eda back in her crib. The odd and troubling rash on her baby’s neck hijacks her eyes for a few seconds. 

  “We have enough food to get through today, as well as for breakfast tomorrow,” says Luciana. 

  “But then there’s tomorrow afternoon.” 

  “What is tomorrow afternoon?” 

  “A day and a time when we won’t have enough food to feed our children?” Lou; a bit short and puzzled. 

  “That, or Monday.” 

  “Monday? What’s Monday to you, then?” 

  “It’s what it could be for all of us.” 

Lou runs his hands over his face and gives a deep sigh. 

  “The food pantry opens at two…on Mondays,” Luciana; spelling it out for him. 

  “That wouldn’t be exactly fair, don’t you think?” 

  “How is that?” 

  “We both have jobs. We have a place to live.” 

  “Lou, my love, look at it this way: even a bag of groceries from there will help us stretch our money for things like rent.” 

  “Will it offset the two hours you’ll have to miss to stand in line down there?” 

  Whether it was maternal instinct, or just sheer rebellion against any sort of stubbornness, Luciana was getting short now, “Sometimes, Lou, you get more money in groceries than you do for two hours of work--and another thing it will help us contribute to are the copays for Eda’s specialist which, if you’ll remember, I have to take her to tomorrow afternoon.” 

  Lou began to pace slowly; stroking his chin in contemplation, “That’s right.” 

  “So you understand?” Luciana. 

  “Of course I understand. She’s my daughter, too.” 

  “I mean do you understand that I can’t be in two places at once.”

Lou stared at her. He, in fact, did not understand until now. 

  “What’s this now?” 

  “The pantry opens at two, and her appointment is at two. It’s about an hour drive, remember?” 

  “So go after.” 

  “It will be closed by then.” 

  “I’m sorry. I know that your job allows you to take off and go to the pantry, but mine doesn’t. Why don’t you just go next week?” 

  “Lou, what are you talking about? If we don’t go this week, we definitely will have to go next week, because Eda’s going to need diapers because the daycare won’t take her without them and I know neither one of us are prepared to pay for diapers right now!” 

  Lou slowly lowered himself back down onto the couch. Eda began to cry. Luciana got up and picked her up out of the crib. 

  “Ohh, is somebody hungry? My little nugget is hungry, yes, I know.” Then, to Lou, “I don’t know what your deal is…Well, I guess I do, since I married you. But a little bit of help isn’t always going to weaken you, Lou. Sometimes, it just helps make you a little stronger…So that you can tackle tomorrow a little better.” 

  She goes off with Eda into the kitchenette and opens the cabinet. There is but one jar of baby food left. She stops herself and slowly reaches for it. 

  Lou remains in a stupor on the couch; interrupted, suddenly, when the paper airplane lands in his lap. He looks to the direction where it flew in from and sees Hector standing in the bedroom doorway with his eyes wide. 

  “S-sorry!” as he darts back into the bedroom. 

  Lou opens the paper airplane; flattening all the intentional creases that stand for whatever pre-adolescent ingenuity his son has--to be able to craft such an antidote to boredom. Part of him felt bad about this. It turned out to be a flyer for a special screening at a local cinema for the film Do The Right Thing. In big, block lettering across the top: DO THE RIGHT THING. 

  He sat with his eyes fixed on this for some time…