“to remind me there’s beauty in this world, even when you’re old.”Like any other day, that one began the same way. As I swiped groceries across the scanner at my checkout lane, I said hello to every client as usual: “How’s your day going?” I asked myself as I mentally tallied the hours till my shift was over. From the bakery aisle, the aroma of freshly made bread blended with the slightly acidic taste of cleaning supplies that had been accidentally spilled at the rear. It was familiar, but it was not glamorous. The front automated doors exploded open as I was about to ring up Mr. Simmons, another regular who had this odd tendency of piling his items in precise towers on the conveyor belt. And she entered.She was coming directly toward my lane, a woman in her late forties, her face contorted into a frown, her hair looking if it had passed through a wind tunnel.A small child, perhaps no older than six or seven, followed her, and I instantly felt sorry for him because of his nervous gait and big eyes. She stormed up to my register, and he was clinging to her hand as if it were the only thing keeping him anchored. Her gaze shot straight to me as if I were the cause of all her misfortunes. “Why do you not have any more organic apples? She yelled, “I need two bags, not one,” loud enough for Mr. Simmons to actually back off and hold his neatly arranged groceries as if they were about to spill.I blinked, attempting to quickly shift from the ordinary to the insane. “Oh my goodness, ma’am. Recently, there has been a slight scarcity in supply —”Her words, “That’s not my problem!” interrupted me before I could say anything more. “It is your responsibility to keep this location filled. You’re telling me you don’t have any organic apples, even though I came here particularly for them? Despite the heat rising in my cheeks, I maintained a flat voice. I realize it’s annoying. They’ve been requested frequently, but they haven’t arrived yet. She yelled, “Don’t give me that!” and I saw the store get quieter in our immediate vicinity. Amid aisles, shoppers paused, with some seeming to inspect merchandise on the shelf and others simply gazing blankly. Linda, the store manager, peered out from behind the deli counter, her eyes narrowing as she took in what was happening. The woman inclined her head in closer, her tone darkening into menace. Do you really believe I’ll just ignore this? I’ll see to it that everyone is aware of your lack of competence. I’ll write reviews so negative that nobody will ever return. By the end of the week, you’ll have lost your employment.”Her remarks were piercing and stinging, like a slap, but it was the small child that really got to me. He pulled at her arm, speaking in a tone so quiet I nearly missed it. It’s alright, Mom. There’s no need for apples. She turned to face him, her demeanor barely changing. Tommy, please keep quiet. Mom is juggling something.” There was enough tension to cut with a knife. I could feel everyone in the store staring at us, silently passing judgment and feeling awkwardly sympathetic. When it happened, the woman was obviously getting ready for another round, her chest heaving as if she were about to reenter the fight. The damn automated doors wouldn’t open, even though she whirled around, prepared to make her dramatic exit. For the entire week, they had been broken, becoming stuck at inconvenient times. And it was at its worst right now. The sound of the woman’s collision with the doors reverberated throughout the store like a gunshot.Everything came to an end. Everything vanished, including the faint murmur of conversations and the beeping coming from the registers and coolers. With wide eyes, everyone was staring, anticipating her next move. Her face flushed bright crimson, but not in the angry kind of way. No, this was the kind of flush you get after you make a stupid comment in a meeting or tumble over in front of a crowd. The kind that leaves your cheeks burning and makes you want to vanish. She appeared unresponsive as she remained there, looking at the glass doors as though she was still processing what had just transpired. I was not sure if to laugh or offer consolation. Not that I had a chance to either, because Martha’s son Tommy tugged on her sleeve just as she was about to snap into another rant. His voice was so faint and quiet in the tense air that it almost got lost. “Mom,” he said. “You treated the checkout woman badly. You ought to apologize.”The child couldn’t have been more than six or seven, yet there was something about the force of his speech that made others pay attention. It sounded as though a pin had fallen in a quiet room. The other patrons’ collective gasp was nearly audible. The woman’s gaze shifted to Tommy, and her whole demeanor altered momentarily. She was a mother standing there with her son, looking completely defeated; she was no longer the angry woman who had stormed in demanding organic apples. I was compelled to feel sorry for the child. He possessed a calm fearlessness that is uncommon, especially among children of his age. The way he stood there staring up at her with those wide, sincere eyes while keeping his hand on her arm… He seemed to contain more wisdom than all of us put together in that little body. For a moment, I was afraid the woman would truly apologize and acknowledge that she had acted inappropriately when she opened her mouth. But then her expression tightened in the same instant. Vanity. It’s a complex matter, isn’t it? It prevents us from acting in the way we ought to and causes us to cling to things we need to let go of. And pride triumphed at that instant. Muttering something under her breath that sounded nothing like an apology, she shifted her attention back to the door.Naturally, the dreadful object had made the decision to free itself and opened with ease this time. With a stiff, mute embarrassment in place of her prior rage, she groped for Tommy’s hand and almost dragged him out of the store. With a swish, the door closed behind them, leaving just the echo of the previous events. I felt the tension in the room slowly release as I remained there for a time with my hands still resting on the counter. People began to move again, and the store began to come back to life, but there was still a persistent sense of unease, as if we had all just seen something that we weren’t quite sure how to react to. My manager Linda appeared beside me, her hand gently resting on my shoulder. “You okay?” she questioned in a hushed voice that was intended only for me. I let out a breath that I hadn’t known I’d been holding as I nodded. Yes, I’m doing well. Just wasn’t prepared for that.”She gave me a comforting pat on the shoulder and added, “Handled it like a pro,” grinning a little before returning to her position.I went back to work and started scanning the next item, but Tommy and Martha were still on my mind. I couldn’t help but imagine what kind of talk they would be having at this very moment in the car. Would she ignore it and appear as if nothing had happened, or would she engage in conversation with him and perhaps even offer an apology that she was unable to muster in the store?As I packed goods for the next customer, I prayed Tommy would recall what he had seen that day. even though his mom didn’t.Perhaps he would learn from experience that it’s acceptable to own up to mistakes and that offering an apology does not indicate weakness. Perhaps even when the memory of the apples had faded, he would still carry with him the modest act of bravery he did at the store today.
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