Shorts - Flash Fiction

Brakes squeaking, I parked my hunk of junk in the front row, two stalls left of the main entrance. I planned to leave a few empty spaces between me and the front door but now that I looked at it, maybe not taking the closest available spot would arouse someone's suspicion. One quick glance at the parking lot confirmed that nobody was around to care. I’d be in and out in ten minutes and I’m not going to re-park the car just to move it over two spaces.

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Or should I only move it one?

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Keys in hand, I forced myself out of the car.

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Stop it! You're over thinking.

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I can’t get all caught up in this. A full week’s worth of planning and various site visits, all I need to do is execute the plan. Besides, buying the items is going to be the easy part. I repeated my well-rehearsed lie. I’m only picking up a few things for my dad. I’m only picking up a few things for my dad.

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My inner voice reminded me that it was always the tiny slip-ups that got people caught. I told my inner self where she could go and focused on moving forward.

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Trying to act natural, I approached the door. But there was nothing natural about it. I’m walking too fast. Do I always hold my keys like this? Does my left hand move with my right foot or left foot? Both seemed equally awkward.

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From the corner of my eye, I checked the roofline to make sure nobody had installed video cameras since last night. Clipping my keychain to my beltloop, repeating, I’m only picking up a few things for my dad.

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The automatic doors opened, and the air-conditioning felt good, especially on my face and forehead. Wait, was I sweating?

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The second I entered the building I knew I'd picked the wrong store. Three employees wearing the store's bright red vests were standing together just a few feet past the entrance. Each one represented a different generation, and I had clearly interrupted their complete boredom as they were all very happy to see me.

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"Welcome to Ace Hardware," said the older man.

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"Is there anything we can help you find today?" asked the forty-something female.

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"Hey, Rachel." came the voice of the boy who sat behind me in Calculus.

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Shit! My mind froze. Then the rest of me followed.

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Standing in the open doorway, all I could do was stare at the trio. They stared back, apparently torn between continuing their work on building a paint-can pyramid display or continuing their freeze-ray vision to lock me in place.

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The doors started to close, then jolted open... several times.

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I stood. They stared. It was awkward.

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Eventually, the female employee picked a gallon of paint off the floor and handed it to the older man, nudging him in the stomach to draw his attention back to his job and away from whatever awkwardness was letting all the air conditioning escape into the parking lot.

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This was my cue. I popped out of my trance and turned to the boy and said, "Hi Beavis." A billionth of a second passed before I followed up with a whispered, “Shit!” As I realized I had accidentally used the derogatory nickname everyone called him behind his back.

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Trying to correct myself, I continued, "I mean, hi...."

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But my mind was blank.

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What was his real name?

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We had gone to school together since I moved here five years ago... and… nothing. Come on! We'd had at least one class together for each of the past five years. Last year he was in three of my classes. His last name was so close to mine alphabetically that we almost always sat within one or two seats of each other.

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And I can’t remember his name!

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Time moved at two different speeds. On one hand, the pyramid of paint grew taller. On the other, I just stood facing the nameless boy I insulted.

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His face was unreadable. Was he confused? Disappointed? Baffled?

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Then I saw the name tag and quickly blurted out, "I mean, hey Stan."

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I smiled, hoping I'd corrected the faux pas without drawing too much attention. But now his face showed serious confusion.

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The stacking of paint ceased once more as both the older employees turned to get a really good look at the freak of nature standing before them. This time they weren’t even trying to hide the awkward.

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"I'm Bevin," he said slowly, as if he were staring with wonder into a cosmic gateway that suddenly opened before him.

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Turn and leave. You've done nothing wrong but embarrass yourself. Just turn and leave.

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"He must have borrowed Stan's vest this morning," said the female employee who I now realized looked incredibly similar to Bevin.

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And yet my feet remained glued to the planet in exactly the same place as when I came into the store ten thousand years ago. I tried to be positive and for some reason my first thought was, Well, at least you haven’t wet your pants. Seriously? Where the hell did that come from?

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And now I had to go to the bathroom.

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I feel like I’d woken up from a dream, stuck in someone else’s plan. Clearly occupying someone else's body. All I could do was stand and try not to make it worse. I closed my gaping mouth and waited for something good to happen. Nothing did.

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I couldn't have botched this up any worse. At least now I had confirmed that I was indeed sweating. Great big stains in my armpits. Perfect.

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"Sometimes, seeing someone familiar in an unexpected setting can be a little disorienting," offered Bevin's mom with a generous smile. She helpfully repeated her initial greeting, "Is there anything we can help you find today?"

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I was doomed to spend eternity frozen to the worn linoleum as a permanent addition to Ace Hardware when a kind, awkward smile from Beavis finally released the spell, sending me back to the normal stream of time.

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Just buy something easy at the counter and leave.

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Gum!

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Gum will save the day!

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And it would have, except instead, what I blurted out was, "I need a hatchet, a blowtorch, and some rope."

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Any trace of awkwardness that might have been missing from our encounter now flooded the room in full measure, possibly bringing some sort of arrest warrant with it.

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"And some gum!" I shouted at their stunned faces.

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... Nice save, inmate.