Chapter 25, Inside The Belly

            When you talk about crowded, do you mean a lot of people? Or do you mean walking down the aisle slower than the traffic outside, people hitting you while almost bumping you with the cart behind you, sweat rolling down your back in the lane where the milk is? I didn’t like the shops, even when they weren’t full of people standing in front of the shelves looking for hours and still cannot make up their minds. It wasn’t for me.

“Do you think we need to take the Black Cat? It is 20 cents cheaper than the others.”

“Mom, I don’t think you can taste the difference between the two, it’s peanut butter for crying out loud!” I looked away with irritation from all the people around me. I hung over the trolley with the food in it putting all my weight on it.

            My eyes jolted from the on face to the other. It became a hobby to try and classify people on their facial expressions and the clothes they wore; it kept my mind off the irritation level building up every second.

            Her eyes had bags; black lines distinguishing them, clothes hanging loose around her body. She dragged her feet across the floor, but her face was still young. But her body said otherwise. Probably had two or three kids, her husband left her looking after the kids alone; and they didn’t give her really the best time of her life. She was an outgoing, pretty girl in her teens and probably slept with the wrong guy on the wrong time without the necessary protection and bam! Two kids jumped out of her body and ruined her life. A bright future taken away from her buy an over sexual b*****d some would say.

            “What do you think of some veil tonight? Exotic style with some nice spices and rice?”

“We both know you cannot cook and now you are going to ask me to make it?”

A smile crept onto her face. “Yes!” She threw the food into the trolley and walked out into the next aisle to find something to keep her mind busy. I tried to take in another victim but quickly saw a face across at the end of our aisle. She had long black hair and looked like Michelle, or maybe it was her. Managing to sidestep most of the people in the way, I made it to her. I was one cart away from her when she turned to my direction. Our eyes connected for a moment, but then realised it wasn’t her. With hesitation a walked past her. Not letting the moment past, or rather the opportunity, I brought my eyes lower. She had a white yoga pants on that were a size or two too small for her figure. It was the sight of the day; I felt like a pirate spotting a gold chest, but I didn’t go after her though.

From behind all the people I heard the faint scream. “Jason! Where are you?”

            I felt my cheeks turn red when a couple of heads turned to me, or were they looking at me? I moved the trolley through all the people again, sidestepping an old lady who I nearly knocked over. Hopefully without any injuries I ended up with my mom again.

“What is it mom?”

“What does it say here?” she held out the bag of coffee when she asked me. I took the bag and read in my mind first.

“This bag contains coffee... Mom did you really call me over to read that,” I looked over to her side and threw my what-the-hell look.

“Don’t be like that Jason!”
“Like what Mom?”

“Well for one, don’t give me that look. Second please don’t just walk away from me without telling where you are going, I worried myself almost sick.”

“I am almost eighteen,” I said in a low voice; I looked her in the eyes.

“I don’t like to think like that, you’re still my baby.”

“Mom! Don’t talk like that!”

“I will, and I can! I love you,” she put her lips onto mine in front of all the people. Rather, she tried to do it but my body pulled away like a cat from water.

“You always choose the wrong place to do this!” the trolley moved quickly over the tiles through the sea of people in front of me. My mom followed slowly, almost disappointed. We walked through the drink section; with instinct my hand grabbed a bottle of cream soda. It was hot and I needed something to cool me down from the inside. It almost ‘pulled’ me to open it, downing the bottle in front of all the people, but alas I couldn’t.

            “I need to take a piss,” I heard the sad voice say behind me.

“I don’t think this is the right place or moment for that. Let’s just finish her and get home before you open the taps please!” I swore the older people get the more childish they turn. Not in a bad way but they become ‘children’ again. For the sad part now, they are left in your hands to take care of them otherwise they just rot in some old place. I didn’t have the guts to take care of her. God help me.

            “Thank you, it will be...”

“Jason you pay,” she interrupted the lady behind the till looking at me.

“I don’t have money,” my voice was dry.

“Okay,” her lower lip almost touching the till’s table. She took the card out of her purse reluctantly but gave it over to the lady.

“Sorry miss, there is no money in the account,” she gave the card back and gave a pitiful smile without any affection. I looked at my mother for any reaction but her face was emotionless. She looked down at her feet and just stood there. Without thinking I asked the lady behind the till if she could take savings accounts. My account had some money in it, and I saved the day from a disaster. We walked slowly back to car without saying a word to each other.

            “Why didn’t you tell me you had no money left?” I shouted when we entered the car.

“It is personal.”

“Personal bullshit! We don’t have any money left to buy food. What about petrol? Or school money?”

“You sound just like your father now. I don’t like it,” her eyes looked over the dashboard and her hand ignited the car. Ironically the car started in the first try. Slowly my mom drove past the other cars with the awkward feeling hanging besides us.

            The familiar homes on Stevenson Street appeared and the emotionless faces flashed past me. The number 25 home emerged and the car swivelled into the driveway where all the old motor parts lay. My dad’s hobby. It made my heart bounce up and down for a moment, but forgot about it as soon as I climbed out the car.

            “Would you care to carry all the packets in, I’m tired.”

“I guess I don’t have an option,” she already walked into the house when I talked. The back door opened slowly with the rust already eating away the inner side. My feet slowly walked over the pavement into the house, into the place you should call home for a reason. Mine was to not sleep on the streets. Does that qualify?