space of the lot, which significantly reduced her chances of someone banging her car by fifty percent.
Celia despised people who parked their cars at an angle. She parked her Wrangler, pressed lock, and looked back at her parking job. There was no denying it: her car was ever so slightly parked at an angle. She never concerned herself with dents to her old car—its metal bruises were camouflaged by the rot and rust.
“Hello, this is Celia. How can I help you?” She didn’t bother to read the caller ID.
“Hey, it’s me. What’s new?” Ramona’s voice was particularly upbeat, which caused Celia concern.
“Not much. What’s going on?” She punched her fist in the air as she remembered their last evening together.
“My brother is coming back to Boston. He asked me to ask if you want to get together again.”
Oh, the booper. “Wow, he’s coming back again? So soon?” She reached for an advertising circular from the newspaper on the chair next to her desk. She started to leaf through the pages as they spoke.
“So soon? Celia, he was here over a month ago! I want you to know he specifically asked for you. He liked you a lot, Celia. You should consider yourself honored. He doesn’t take to people too easily.”
Wonder if anyone has ever confronted him on that booping thing? “I’m kind of busy. I don’t know.” Celia hedged. She didn’t want to decline too rapidly. She picked up a green highlighter and flipped through the pages of the Linen Closet circular. She began to highlight pictures of sheets, towels, and kitchen gadgets. She was half-listening to Ramona.
“He’ll be here over the weekend. He said he truly enjoyed meeting you the last time he visited. He thought you were very nice and wants to get together with you. That is, if you’re available.”
Celia pushed the circular to the side of her desk and focused on their conversation. “I think he’s nice, too, and very handsome.” She told the truth about his appearance. “Unfortunately, I have plans for the weekend. If they fall through, I’ll let you know.” She felt guilty for lying, but knew she had to lie to avoid another night out with Ramona and Booper Boy.
The Linen Closet was a luxury-only shopping spree. She needed nothing, except a new, fresh feel for her home. The thought of refreshing, crisp, cotton sheets against her cool, smooth skin when she got into bed at night made her happy. Soft, unspoiled bath towels hugging her body after a hot steamy shower would be delightful. Her old and soiled dish towels could be replaced with clean, new 100% cotton ones. She removed a shopping cart from the corral at the front of the store and enthusiastically began her shopping adventure.
Aghast at how incredibly gigantic the superstore was, she stood motionless at the entrance. With her hands clasped around the handles of the shopping cart, she took in her surroundings. Kitchen gadgets, bedding, artificial plants and flowers, dishtowels, picture frames, and bathroom and kitchen supplies filled the shelves. She pushed the cart and began her search for new possessions. Before long, she crammed the cart with bedding, linens, kitchen items, towels, and lotions.
Purchasing pillows was not even a distant thought when she set out on her excursion. At aisle four, the oversized fluffy pillows screamed out to her. Touch Me tags dangled from their packaging. She couldn’t resist the fluffy queen-size pillow. She squeezed it and held it to her chest, closing her eyes for a moment. She loaded three of the pillows on top of the dish strainer, the kitchen towels, and the comforter, which had all been tossed into the cart somewhere between the entrance and the beginning of the fourth aisle. She stuffed three more onto the bottom shelf of the cart, above the wheels. She selected new pillows to sleep on, new pillows for the pillow shams that came with the new comforter, and new pillows for the extra pillow shams that would match the comforter.
This cart was full. She should have taken a second one, but she was certain she could handle the awkwardly overloaded cart.
At the back of the store, a magnificent display of brightly colored plastic wastebaskets was set up in four tiers, each perfectly uniform. As Celia navigated around the display, one of the pillows popped up and slid down the side of the cart. She seized the pillow and pulled the corner up. The large Touch Me tag caught the rim of the second tier on the display. The plastic baskets crashed down; the fourth tier fell on the third, plummeted down to the second, the first and then the floor. She tried to stop the imploding event, which made matters worse when she pushed her overloaded cart deeper into the collapsing display. She watched in horror as the red, orange, green, and yellow baskets collided into a colorful pile. The implosion stopped, and a shallow sea of brightly colored plastic baskets surrounded her. She reached down and picked up two of the fallen items. She awkwardly searched the area to see whether anyone had witnessed the incident.
A man nearby observed the collision between the shopping cart and the fallen display. He looked at the debris at her feet. She was uncomfortable, and nervously began to laugh. Not a full belly laugh—simply a quiet shaking laugh of self-consciousness. She was caught. How could she not be? He was right there. It would have been impossible for him not to notice. And equally impossible for her not to notice his eyes. In a split second, she realized he was the same man from Pete’s Market and the car dealership. The brilliant and colorful display encircling her paled in comparison to the bright red her cheeks had become with the hot flush of embarrassment.
“How about this being our little secret?” She smiled at him, scrunched her face, and tilted her head with a begging shrug.
He grinned. “Sure, no problem.”
She bent down and picked up a few more baskets. “I guess I should organize them, huh?” She spoke without raising her head from the mess.
“Nah, I’m sure that’s somebody’s job. I would, however, suggest you leave before someone arrives with police tape to block off the area.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right.” She stood, took hold of her cart, and walked toward the cash registers. An announcement for cleanup assistance in the back of the store came over the loudspeakers. She paid for her purchases and was happy—very happy—to leave.
Celia loaded her purchases into the back of her car. She got into the driver’s seat, fastened her seat belt and dialed Kate.
“Kate!” She all but screamed into the phone.
“You’re calling from your cell phone? Please tell me there isn’t anything wrong with your new car. Tell me you’re not having a problem. Please.”
“I’m fine. The car is fine. This is much worse.”
“Celia, what’s wrong?” Kate prepared herself for terrible news.
“I just saw him!” she shrieked. “I’m at the Linen Closet and I saw that guy with the nice eyes! The one from Pete’s Market and the car place! The non-booper! Oh my God! He was in the store when I was there.” Celia started the car, but didn’t drive away; instead, she sat, idling the engine.
“You scared me, Celia. I expected something terrible.”
“This felt terrible. I’m so embarrassed.” Kate heard the panic in Celia’s voice.
“Why are you embarrassed? Celia, you were shopping in the same store. It’s not a thing to be embarrassed about. I’m sure there were other people shopping too. Right?”
“The store was almost empty, and he was right near where I was. I knocked over a few trash barrels. He watched the whole thing. He was right there! I felt like an idiot! I asked him to keep the little accident our secret. I’m an idiot, an absolute idiot. Now I hope I never see him again. I’m totally embarrassed.”
Kate laughed, and Celia knew why. “Don’t say that. This is what they call a cute meet. You see this in movies all the time.