The Return

A short short about what could have been...

The Return

Katherine looked down the line of customers with anxiety.  She was a veteran of retail, but that doesn’t mean it gets an easier the weekend after Christmas.  

P.R. Roberts was a moderately sized chain of all-in-one retail stores that sold everything from furniture to automotive supplies.  Enormous and entirely impersonal, it was designed and fueled by consumer hunger. And Katherine’s position was in the eye of the storm; the returns counter.  Customers thrust unwanted items back across the counter without a moment’s thought. Their only worry was how much money they’d get back. Especially during the holidays, they shunned all thought that was put into those gifts, for the sake of a small, plastic card containing their store credit.  

She examined the faces in the gently arcing line.  By her count there were at least 20. Some were taking deep breaths in an effort to suppress their frustrations.  Even more cackled on their cell phones about their trials and tribulations. A few stared off into the dark of consumer mania while mumbling a stubborn tune in their heads.  Nearly all stood impatiently, arms wrapped around their unwanted items still in their respective boxes and plastic store bags. Popular yet annoying Christmas music streamed down from hundreds of speakers overhead adding to the tension.  The line curled and flexed with the slow execution of the task at hand.

Katherine stopped on a familiar face.  Roughly halfway back from her counter, she noticed a young redheaded man of his 30’s that she had met before.  Of course she sees repeat customers daily, but she had actually had an in depth conversation with him; something of an unusual event in a box store.  In the melee of the holiday shopping season, Katherine and the man, accompanied by his wife at the time, had taken the patience to get to know each other.  The man was attractive. He stood out amongst the crowd, somewhat because of his glowing orange hair, but more so because of his height. He stood roughly 6’4” and as slim and lanky as a basketball player.  His pale, milky skin stood out like a light bulb against the black leather jacket wrapped tightly around his torso. His chin was to his chest, his eyes on the floor. A huge box stood next to him.

For the most part, the customers ahead of him were patient.  Once and a while, a customer, presumably a pain in the a*s at home as well, would throw their hands up in frustration upon an unfair ruling.  However Katherine was not paying attention to that. In the back of her mind she was fishing for the man’s name. She did the duties of returning items and reinstating store credit with an automatic efficiency.  But what was his name? Most likely due to his Irish look, she figured him for a James, or even a Patrick. She desperately wanted to remember his name before his turn came up. Dissecting her memory for his identity sent her back to their last encounter.  Falling into the valley between Halloween and Thanksgiving, he and his wife floated through the store with an outstanding excitement looking for one single item: a stroller. Katherine had not been at the returns counter that day. She was doing double duty as a floor supervisor and happened to be wandering through the newborn/infant section.  That was when she saw the anxious couple test driving the inventory. The man’s wife was an adorable brunette, not much over 5 feet and unlikely more than 100lbs. However, that would seemingly change shortly. They were feverishly looking for a baby stroller. It was obvious to Katherine that this was their first. They didn’t have the patience and flippant nature of seasoned veterans of parenthood; like Katherine.  Their youthful exuberance reminded Katherine of her own first pregnancy with Christine, her oldest. Her next two children, Suzie and Michael, never produced the energy of those first months of a new pregnancy. Now, quietly resting in her 50’s, Christine, Suzie, and Michael all grown and gone, Katherine saw her own past in that young couple. The couple bounced around the isles, laughing and making comments for only themselves to make out.  Their excitement was electric.

That previous meeting, Katherine had gladly given up all the information she had about the prospective baby-hauling equipment.  The couple, in turn, spilled all of their hopes and dreams and affection for the upcoming baby. They stated their struggles to get pregnant as well as their obvious disillusionment with the possibility of never having a biological child to call their own.  And then, with smiles opening their faces, told Katherine of the wonder of finding out they were expecting. Following two grueling years of injections and harvesting and untold monies to InVetro fertilization, their dreams had come true.

Triggered by a holiday song by Nat King Cole, Katherine finally captured his name: Cole.  Cole and Sandra were their names. Unbeknownst to her, Katherine had smiled at the realization in front of a bewildered customer.  A small wave of satisfaction went through her. She noticed there were only three people ahead of Cole. However, his head was still down, his shoulders limp.

Katherine tried her best not to seem impatient with the customers, but the truth was that she was anxious to speak to Cole.  Nearly two months had passed and she eagerly awaited new developments in the pregnancy. Of the thousands of people she’s spoken to through the years of being at the store, Cole and Sandra were the only ones she genuinely hoped after.  She couldn’t pinpoint whether it was their honest enjoyment of being expecting parents or the memories of her own pregnancies, but whatever it was Cole and Sandra stayed with Katherine.

And finally the moment came.  The small Middle Eastern man ahead of Cole peeled off to the left with his handful of cash, and Cole stepped forward to her counter.  A polite, if forced smile greeted Katherine. This was in contrast to her wild and hopeful greeting she provided him.

“Good evening Cole.” Katherine said, smiling widely.

“Oh, wow, you remembered my name.  I’m sorry, but I’ve forgotten yours.” Cole replied.

“It’s Katherine.  I’m sorry for being forward, but I was the one that helped you and your wife with the baby stroller a ways back.”

“Yes, I do remember.  You were a huge help. Thank you.” Cole said, shuffling the large box in front of the counter.

“So what can I help you with today? Oh and how his Sandra doing?”

Cole slowly lifted the box onto the counter beside Katherine.  He was avoiding eye contact with her. He shoved his hands into his pockets and took a deep breath.

“Sandra is doing pretty good�"she’s resting.”

A bolt of anxiety shot through Katherine.  This was a different man than she’d encountered two months ago.  Gone was the upwelling of enthusiasm. That man had been replaced by this quiet, troubled man in the shell of the former.

“Well what can I do for you here Cole?” Katherine asked, concerned.

Cole glanced to his right at the box on the counter.  Katherine followed. It was the stroller. The box was in pristine condition, unopened.  Katherine’s heart sank.

“We don’t need this anymore.” Cole answered, his voice breaking.