Frozen Lasagna

The blaring summer sun makes my hair stick to the back of my neck. God, I hate summer. This parking lot is hotter than Hades.

“Would you like some help, Ma’am?”

My heart threatens to jump out of my chest. I turn to find a young, pimply teen walking towards my buggy. His mop of hair is plastered to his face, but he smiles broadly at me enough to signal that I’m not about to be robbed.

“Oh, no, that’s alright. I’ve got it,” I say, waving him off.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind, I have time—“

“No, thank you!” I try to say as politely as I can, but it comes out a bit terse.

There is a pause. Does he know?

“Alright, Ma’am. Have a nice day!”

Thank heavens. I breathe for what feels like the first breath in minutes, and hasten my steps towards my car.

George’s car.

Not now, I can’t break down now. I can’t think about him, so I make myself busy with the groceries in the back of the peeling old car’s trunk. My fingers ache with arthritis, but there’s no way I’m asking for help.

I manage to shuffle the buggy into the cart receptacle and then lower myself into the sweltering red velour seat. Key. Key. Where is the key? I dig through my purse for a minute, but it’s not in there. How did I lose the key again? I push my head back into the seat and can feel a bead of sweat forming on my upper lip.

The glittering chain catches my eye, dangling from the ignition. Oh my, I must be slipping. I resettle myself into the seat and turn the ignition.

Sputter. Sputter. Sputter.

I throw my head back again, slamming my palms into the steering wheel in a way that makes my arthritis flare and I wince. This is just not my day.

Knock. Knock.

“Do you need some help?” The same teen yells through the door. He must really not have anything better to do.

I crack the door. “My car won’t start.”

“Do you have someone I can call for you?”

No. I don’t. The love of my life is dead. I have no children. All my friends have died. I grip the steering wheel so tight my unlacquered nails dig in.

“I can take your groceries back in so they don’t get hot? I can find you a seat too.”

I can't. He’s going to see my bags. “No, it’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s 98 degrees. Let me get you inside. I’m sure we can get a tow truck and a taxi.”

And what’s that gonna cost? Who is going to pay for that? I don’t have that kind of money.

“No, thank you.”

He just stares, leaning against George’s car. “You’re just going to sit in there? I saw you had some perishables. Those need to get cool soon or—“

I huff a sigh, not listening as he finishes his high school-educated speech on food safety. He stares at me for a moment expectantly. I look away for a moment, collecting myself, and try to reset my demeanor. Sweet granny. I need to be a sweet granny. No one will accuse me if I play my cards right.

“You know, it is very hot…” I say, feeling a bead of sweat drip down my back and into the godforsaken diaper I now have to wear.

“Come with me, let’s go inside. I’ll get your groceries.”

Surely they won’t notice. It’s just another reusable bag filled with food. They wouldn’t know I hadn’t paid for that particular bit of food. Even if they did, I have the confused granny card to play. Everything will be okay, I just need to get home.

I hobble a bit more than necessary as I follow him inside. He carries my groceries in as if they weigh nothing. To have that young strength again…

The air conditioning feels like heaven as we step back in. He stops us in front of a very balding man who stands behind a little desk near the front. He looks to be a manager of some sort.

“This lady is having some car trouble, and I thought we could keep her perishables cool until she got a ride figured out.”

The balding man studies me, his brows raised in a way that makes me squirm a bit. My eyes wander to the young woman who scanned my groceries earlier. She had made no note of my pile of 'unused' cloth bags in the undercarriage, thankfully. The girl looks up at me and gives a small smile and wave. I look down at the floor. She needs to stay away. If she sees the extra groceries, she’ll know I stole them.

“That’s fine,” The man huffs, as if I’m a huge inconvenience to him. I suddenly like the teenage boy much more. The man’s badge reads Mike. Depending on how this goes, I might need to make a call to corporate.

The boy leads me to a side room filled with three circular tables surrounded by stiff chairs, not a single one pushed in. It smells of microwaved pizza, and the lighting is just a bit too blue. He points to a chair near the door and I sit down.

“Make yourself comfortable, Mrs…. What was your name? I don’t think I asked.”

“Mrs. Johnson. Where are you taking my groceries?”

“Just back to one of the fridges. Our manager is going to call you a taxi, free of charge.”

I straighten my back at that. Maybe I won’t try to shame Mike after all. “That’s very kind, thank you.”

The boy steps out and closes the door just as I realize my purse isn’t tucked under my shoulder.

Surely I just left it in the car. I stand up and crack open the door. The young girl who checked me out is talking with the manager now. She looks my way but doesn’t smile.

Oh no. Oh no! They’ve found what I took.

I close the door and play with the rings on my fingers. I need to get out of here.

I slowly crack the door back open and head toward the exit. They both turn to me now.

“Where are you headed?” The balding man asks.

“Oh, just to get my purse.”

“Is it not sitting on the table in there?”

I stop dead. Was it? No, no, it wasn’t. I’m not stupid.

“It’s just out in my car.”

“No, I think it’s in there. Jennifer, why don’t you go check?” The balding man says, pointing with a fat finger.

The girl strides into the room before I can object, returning with my small black purse. I flush. That’s so embarrassing. I take the bag with a nod and then stand there. Do I run? By the way they’re looking at me, they know. Maybe they’ve already called the police. Do I sit down and wait until they’re distracted and walk away? Yes. That's probably the best plan.

I stand there just a moment too long I suppose, and the girl comes to my side and guides me like a lost sheep back to the break room. I comply. No good in fighting.

“Could you leave the door open, dear? It’s a bit stuffy.”

“Sure thing.” She smiles. Surely she didn’t tell on me. She seems far too kind for that sort of thing. She’s not a tattle.

I’m left alone again. The dooting sound of the nearby registers seems to bounce off the walls. I lean forward but can’t see the manager or either worker.

I rub my aching knees with my hands. Maybe they really are just calling me a cab. It’s too hot for me to run. Where would I go anyway?

A middle-aged woman walks in with wrinkles creasing her forehead. She’s all sweaty, like she just ran in this horrible heat.

“Mom! What are you doing?”

I recoil. The audacity of her. “I don’t know you.”

The woman looks like I’ve physically hit her. What in heaven's name is going on?

She stutters for a second. “T-they, uh, they were about to call the police. I just happened to look out the window and saw Dad’s car missing.” She runs her hand through her sweaty hair, but it just makes the little flyaway bits stick out even more.

“Who are you?” I ask quietly. The world feels a bit unsteady. I grip my purse tighter.

“Mom…” she says with exasperation. She seems like a nice enough lady, but I don’t know who she thinks I am. She must be confused.

She straightens herself, seeming to get a grip on reality. “I’m Hailey, it’s nice to meet you. I’m here to bring you home safely since your car is broken.”

I survey her up and down. Her clothing is a little too big for her, but she looks decent enough to trust I suppose. I straighten the wrinkle in my pants. “My husband should be here soon. He’ll come get me.”

The woman stands in silence for a moment, and when I look up she looks a bit sad. What an odd woman.

“Yeah, he’s waiting for you. He gave me a call and told me to come pick you up.”

“Hmm,” I say, digging through my purse. “I don’t have much money for a cab.”

She grabs my hand tenderly and helps me to stand. “That’s alright. You don’t need to worry about anything like that. I’ll take care of you.”