Another Grocery Story

     “I always see you at the grocery store,” she said surprised, “but aren’t you supposed to be in hibernation?” She asked with the most genuine smile I’d seen in months.

     “A man’s got to eat.” I said looking through the produce department.

     “Can you believe they took out all the lettuce?”  I asked looking down at the bags of cubed turkey and cheese in my little basket.  As tasty as steak, sushi, and wings are the body needs a rest every once in a while.  Hibernation is a perfect time for a reset.

     “I just want a salad.”

      In my opinion nothing beats a basic mixture of iceberg lettuce, roasted turkey, cheese, and a balsamic/French dressing combo.  After the stress and overeating of the holidays simple was the way to go.

     “Well 50 people did get sick from e. Coli,” she shrugged.

     “Oh shit.  That’s right.  It’s been all over the news.”  I still wanted a salad.  I had been thinking about it all day.  “What happened to salvage what you can then throw out the rest?  There had to be some good there.”

     “Speaking of news, I usually see you here every few months...at least a couple of times during the summer.  Did you move?”

     “I’ve just been busy with a new job and I’ve been doing a bit more reflecting than usual the past year.  Fifty is right around the corner.’

     “I thought you were in class with Jess.”

     “No.  I was between Jess and Ben.  How are they by the way?”

     “Everybody’s fine.  Jess, her twins just started junior year in college and Ben’s daughter is getting married in April.”

     “God save the queen!  Really?  I remember when they were little kids.”

     “My oldest,” she said taking out her phone, “is about to start college.”  She showed me a picture of her beautiful young doppelgänger.  “So, you seeing anyone?”

     “No,” I said.  “I was doing some sporadic dating but when the #MeToo movement hit I did some reassessing.  I took the time to contact all of the women I know and still talk to, and even those I don’t to see if I was ‘that guy.’

     “Some conversations were face to face.  Some were via email.  Some were via text.  There were a few lost friendships and messy breakups but nothing crazy or completely destructive.”

     “Wow,” she said wide eyed.  “Just wow.”

     “Yeah.  I know.  Sorry to lay such heavy shit on you.  This is hibernation.  It’s a complete deconstruction and rebuilding of the self to better connect with the people and the world around me.”

     “I feel like I need a drink,” she said shaking her head.

     I stepped back and took a deep breath.

     “Have I ever made you feel uncomfortable or pressured in any way?”

     She pursed her lips and looked into the distance.  I took another deep breath and tried to remember if things ever got crazy.

     “Not the conversation you thought you’d have in the produce aisle on a Saturday afternoon, is it?”

     Her eyes softened and she smiled.

     “I was trying to think about the one thing you always do and that’s it.  You always know how to break the tension.

     “I can honestly say I’ve never felt uncomfortable or pressured by you.  I’ve known you since I was 13 years old.  You’ve always been good to the family.  You were there for Jess when Trevor died and you always remember our birthdays.”

     “March 31st,” I said.

     She smiled that big genuine smile again.

     “Good to see you.”

     “Good to see you, too.  Catch you in a few months.  Maybe next time it will be in the cereal aisle.  Change of pace from the produce aisle.  Best of luck with the lettuce.”  She said waving as she disappeared around the corner.

     “Holy shit,” I said catching a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye.  Buried amongst the cabbage was a head of lettuce.  There was a little bit of rust near the root.

     I would salvage what I could then throw out the rest.  There had to be some good there.

     

Under The Wire

     “I just can’t do it.”  I looked at the front of the menu and was amazed.

     “Can you believe the prices?” V asked.  She was as surprised as I was.  “I mean the food sounds good in theory but...no.  Just.  No.”

     “No shit,” I responded secretly happy because I was a bit broke.

     The comfort food we used to eat as children was being hijacked.  It was now repackaged as gourmet and served to us at ridiculous prices.  The Mac and cheese was $12.  The grilled cheese was $11.  The peanut butter and jelly was $13.  It was as though adding the description ‘artisanal’ added $10 to the price.

     We just looked at each other.  I was afraid to flip the menu over.  Were they going to charge for using the air?  Was there a $10 waiting fee?

     “Look,” she said genuinely excited.  “They have happy hour specials!”

     We both looked at our phones. 5:48.  Happy hour ended in 12 minutes.  It was going to be nice to get in just under the wire.

     “What are you thinking?” I asked.  “10 wings and spinach pastries with sauce for $10?”

     “Sold.”  She pointed at me and smiled.  “At least I don’t have to make sure my mortgage is paid first.”

     “Don’t get me wrong I understand that the rent needs to get paid at this place but god damn.”

     We had both decent jobs with decent salaries but we had both just gone through long stretches of unemployment where $20 spent at a bar or restaurant was not a possibility.

     There was a residual insecurity from the last transition.  People don’t want to believe it but changing careers after 45 was harder than most imagine.  It’s one thing when you are striking out to find your passion after years of building to it but it’s a completely different animal when the floor is ripped out from under you.  You spend your time trying to be confident and determined in your new job while struggling to find out what didn’t work at your old one.

     Food helps.  Comfort food shared with friends helps more.  The recent steak excursion was great but there was the sinking feeling that this new gig might not quite have a stability I could rely on to make that a regular occurrence.  This was insecurity.

     “Oh look,” she said doing the happy dance in her seat, “you can get a pint for $2.50.”

     “We might be able to get out of here for less than $20 between the two of us.  I like it.”  We quickly placed our order and bumped fists.

     The artisanal burger alone was $20 so this was like hitting the lottery.

     “You know,” she started, “they wouldn’t be able to charge these prices if people didn’t pay them.”

     “True.  Very true.  Marketing has taught people that it’s a privilege to live beyond their means.  The bad  things for us and the good thing for business is that most people act against their best interests.”

     “Nice.  Did you ever think we would have to start again at this point?” V asked as the bartender set up the plates and utensils.

     “Well, we all knew my time was limited but no, I was hoping I would be able to hold on for just a little bit longer.  My target age is fifty.  I’m hoping that I can either make this latest gig work by then OR I can find my finishing gig by then.”

     “I know."  She said staring off into the distance.  "Wouldn’t it be wonderful to love the job and know you’ll ride it out until the end?
     "Hey, wait a minute?  Didn’t we do wings the last time?” She asked as the wings arrived.

     “Yes, but last time we did wine and wings.  Beer is better.”

     “It’s good to see you’re better.  I was worried about you for a little while.”

     “Hell, I’m still worried.  I can’t let myself get comfortable.  Comfort equals misery.  Enough about me.  How are you?  How’s the new gig treating you?”

     “It’s good.  The thing about my job is that they appreciate my experience.  You’re looking at the new regional manager for New England.”

     We clinked glasses.

     “Congratulations.  Do you think this is the job you’ll ride out until the end?”

     She rolled her eyes while she tipped her glass.

     “Who knows?  I like talking to clients.  Ironically I have a larger territory and I speak to fewer people.  But, hey, the mortgage is paid.”

     “Maybe next year, if these jobs work out, we can eat burgers and not have to worry about getting in under the wire.”

Dinner At A Distance

     “I never understood why the hell people take pictures of their food and post it on twit/face/insta/space.  The shit just doesn’t make sense to me.  And how did you get that tasty steak?  I didn’t see it on the menu.”

     I had just taken a snapshot of a wagyu steak surrounded by creamed spinach and mashed potatoes.  It was covered in an almost caramelized au jus and complemented by a 9 ounce pour of Cabernet.  This was the last big dinner out before hibernation.  It had to be a good one.

     “All you have to do is ask.  Things readily available on the menu get boring.”

     “But seriously,” she said, “no one really cares what you had to eat for dinner.”

     “I understand that,” I said preparing to send the text.  “I do.  This isn’t for twit/face/insta/space.  This is for a specific list of people.”

     The knife almost fell through the tender centerpiece of the dinner.  I could feel my mouth watering as I swirled it in the small pool of au jus.  

     It was almost time for the hibernation.  All social media had been either disabled or completely deactivated.  It’s kind of hard to cleanse the mind and the soul if you are constantly trying to keep or follow up with the world around you.

     “List?” She asked.

     “Dinner at a Distance,” I said wiping the corner of my mouth with the napkin.

“Basically there are some people I would try to get together with at various times of the year.  It always seemed that no matter how early or how solid things seemed plans would get canceled or they would have something more important come up.

     “After the third or, in some cases, fourth raincheck I just stopped asking about when people wanted to hang out and sent pictures of me hanging out.  I understand that life gets in the way but at...”

     “I know.  I know.  But at some point you also make a conscious choice,” she said rolling her eyes.

     “Sooo,” I said swirling a bit more butter in the mashed potatoes, “You’ve heard me give this little speech before?”

     “Yes,” she said as her fork fell through her perfectly flaked salmon, “I just didn’t know you had named it.”

     I sent the image into the ether.

     “Do you need a little more whine to go with your dinner?”  Her question dripped with as much sarcasm as my steak dripped with au jus.

     I smiled as I realized something I already knew.  Most people don’t care about what they eat.  They care about who they eat it with.

     “You know what?  You’re right.  Thank you for taking time to hang out.  I feel like a dick.  You take the time to make the time and I spend it talking about those who don’t.  It’s a reminder to appreciate the people who appreciate you.” 

     “Baby steps,” she said.  “As far as those other folks, maybe it’s time you stop being that readily available thing on the menu.”

Waiting

     The only thing worse than having some horrible illness or an incurable std is waiting to hear if you have been diagnosed with said illness or std.  Luckily Derich was there with me to ride out the wait.

     “You moron,” he said slapping his forehead, “why would you tell her how many people you slept with?”

     Derich was in a particularly foul mood.  His job was going well but the workload was weighing him down.  It had been three years since he was supposed to have received his golden parachute.  He was trapped.  He had a good job with a good salary.  Things were good but they weren’t good enough.  There was also the hint that things with Karen were a bit tense.

     Hibernation was just around the corner for me so my nerves were a bit frayed.  Waiting a week to hear back from the doctor wasn’t helping.  I was already thinking to back to every relationship, hug, make out session, random hook up and one night stand.

     I was already thinking about the phone calls I’d have to make.  I could only imagine them. ‘Hey long time no chat.  I hope things are going well.  Oh by the way have you been tested for (insert disease)’.

     “Because she’s my doctor.”  I pushed back.  “Why the hell would I lie to my doctor about shit like that?”

     “Because she doesn’t need to know,” he said with a straight face.  “The whole system is garbage.  You can have the best insurance in the world and still leave the doctor’s office owing $500 because of some bullshit ‘test’ they want to run.”

     “So what doesn’t Karen need to know?” I heard myself ask before I knew I asked the question.

     Our phones rang at the same time.

     “I gotta go,” he said looking at his screen.  He threw a $20 bill on the bar and headed for the door.

     I stared at my phone.  It was 7:40 on a Friday evening.  The caller ID said Doctor’s Office.

     “Hey, Doc,” I said stepping into the bathroom, “what’s going on?”  I could feel the sweat on the back of my neck.  I looked for an empty stall to throw up in if necessary.

     “Well, your tests came back.”  I unknowingly held my breath while she paused.  “Your blood sugar looks fine, your cholesterol is surprisingly good, your LDLs and HDLs, your results are right where they need to be.”

     “Even though I’m fat?” I asked trying to lighten the mood with a little laugh.

     Silence.

     “Doc, it’s 7:40 on a Friday night.  Good news can usually wait until Monday morning.”

     She took a deep breath then took a moment to exhale.

     “As I said, your results are right where they need to be.  Your STD tests came back negative...”

      My heart stopped, then I remembered in this case negative meant positive.

     “Thank you, Jesus!!” I said giving the victory sign with both arms then snapped my fingers as I pointed to myself in the mirror.

     “BUT,” she said in her stern no bullshit manner, “I really wanted to talk to you about this.”

     “Why, Doc?  Everything is fine.”

     “Promiscuity can be a sign of low self esteem.  Low self esteem is a precursor to depression.  You mentioned it had been a rough few months and I just wanted to make sure you had someone to talk to so things didn’t spiral out of control like they did a few years ago.”

     It was my turn to take a deep breath.

     “I’m ok, Doc.  I realized a few years ago even if your feet are nailed to the floor you can still reach for the stars.  I’m good.”

     “If you need someone to speak with let me know and I write a referral.”

     “Thank you, Doc.”

     I hung up the phone and pointed in the mirror one more time.  I thought back to Derich.  He was in a foul mood and he felt trapped.  I had a feeling even if his call was good it wouldn’t be good enough.

Check Up

     The waiting room was smaller than I remembered.  It had been years since I had been to the doctor for a basic check up so my memory may have been a bit off.  There wasn't anything wrong per se but I just wanted to be sure.

     As a man of a certain age it's amazing how quickly somethings can sneak up on you.  You can only ignore the certain pains for so long before you realize they aren't going away any time soon.

     Most of the men in my family had a limited trust of doctors due to the history of racism and misinformation in America.  This limited trust led to many preventable, painful deaths.

     Cancer had ripped through my family.  It wasn’t a matter of if I was going to get it.  It was a matter of when.

     After watching the four year battle up close I decided to get the yearly check ups so I could catch it early.  The thought of cancer didn’t scare me as much as how it would affect the people around me.  I could be completely prepared to no longer be part of this earth.  I can have the mindset that will lend to a peaceful transition.  The one thing I might not be prepared for is hearing someone cry about the loss.  Nothing is worse than watching someone you care for suffer because they are watching you suffer and there's nothing either of you can do about it.

     But there has to be a realization that death is a natural process.  It is part of the circle.  The goal is to make the circle as full as possible before the air is sucked out of it.

     “You’re fat,” she said without hesitation.

     “I like the subtly, Doc,” I said, a little bit surprised.

     “I mean you have some decent muscle tone but for your height and age I would like you to be about lose 40 pounds.”

     “40?!?  How about 15?  I’m good at 175.  I sleep well.  There’s no pain.  I got down to 160 a few years ago and people were asking me if I was sick.  If I get down to 150 they’ll use a picture of me in telethons to feed starving children in Africa.”

     “That’s because they are used to you at a this weight.  My concern is your health.  As an African American man you are more susceptible to diabetes, heart disease, and certain cancers.  By maintaining a healthier weight and diet you minimize the chances of diabetes, heart disease, and certain cancers.”

     “I am pretty when I’m between 165 and 170.”  She rolled her eyes and smiled.  “How about I give you 170 and we test my levels then?”

     “Deal.  Next question.  Sexual history.  How many partners have you had?”

     I took a deep breath.  After years of being in bands and hanging out in bars, I had to face the facts.  I gave her the actual number.  There was a moment of complete silence.

     “I’m sorry, excuse me?!?”

     “I’ve never been married.  I’ve been doing this since I was 18.  If you average it to about 3 to 4 partners a year it makes perfect sense.”

     “Your first test is an STD test.”

     This was the first time I said the number out loud without joking or trying to impress someone.  It wasn’t funny or impressive.

     As a man of a certain age it’s amazing how quickly somethings can sneak up on you.