Life's Essentials

Like an ominous warning that life as we knew it could end at any moment, the grocery store’s Mazak crackled amid the humming fluorescent lights overhead. If anything went wrong with the Y2K transition, we could be plunged into chaos. An unimaginable apocalypse might begin at midnight.

I checked my watch: 11:15 PM. Only forty-five minutes left to grab essentials and prepare for the worst. I looked down at my laden cart and realized one thing was missing: toilet paper.

Oh no. The picked-over and scattered bins of fruits and vegetables sent my heart racing. I was all the way in the produce section and had no idea where to find my precious TP, but I knew it wasn’t here.

I shoved my weight against the heavy cart, its wheels squeaking and protesting. The front wheel turned sideways, making it like a mountain blocking my path. Breathless, I scurried around to try to right it and slipped on a loose banana. My legs shot out from under me, arms pinwheeling in a desperate attempt to regain my balance, and then crash! My back hit the linoleum, knocking the air out of me.

With pain shooting through my body, I questioned my mission. Was my life really worth a pack of TP?

A head entered my vision, long auburn locks brushing against my cheeks. “Are you okay?” A shocked woman’s face appeared through the mass of hair, staring down at me. She wore jeans and a white button-down with a store smock over it, complete with a nametag declaring her name as Angel. She was a sign—an angel sent to help me with my quest.

“Toilet paper?” The words slipped out before I fully registered them. What a silly thing to say at a time like this, but her smock said she was the right person to ask.

“Um, okay? It’s in aisle thirty-four. Are you sure you’re okay?” The concern in Angel’s voice struck me like a gentle summer breeze.

As she squatted next to me, I caught a whiff of her lavender perfume, a surprising scent amid the musty and sweet aromas of potatoes and bananas. I studied her round face and puffy cheeks, which gave her a girlish appearance despite the crow’s feet around her eyes. She looked to be close to my thirty years, and, as if pulled by invisible strings, my gaze drifted to her finger, devoid of any promises.

“I’m fine. I’m, er, Tom. It’s nice to meet you.” I rubbed the back of my head, feeling the heat of embarrassment wash over my cheeks.

“Nice to meet you too, Tom.” Her eyes sparkled with kindness and showed no hint of mocking despite my ridiculous predicament. She was someone who wouldn’t laugh at another’s plight. It made me feel an odd connection forming between us. She offered her hand, and I took it. The softness of her touch struck me, along with her surprising strength as she helped me to my feet.

“So, you’re looking for toilet paper, Tom.” She frowned slightly, her hands diving into her smock’s pockets. “Like I said, it’s in aisle thirty-four, but we might be running low. Do you have a particular brand in mind?”

I cleared my throat, my ears and neck joining with the blazing in my cheeks. “Uh, well, I’d prefer something soft, I guess? I mean, who wants to compromise on that?”

Angel chuckled softly, seductive dimples appearing on her cheeks, and my heart leapt. “Good point. You don’t want to end up with sandpaper.”

I took a deep breath and brushed banana bits off my suit jacket. The urgency of my mission rushed back as I glanced at the packed checkout lines. “I don’t have much time left before midnight. Would you care to escort me on my quest, or do you have more shoppers to attend?”

She blushed, a pink hue sweeping across her cheeks. “I actually got off work an hour ago, Tom, but I thought I’d stay to help out.” She gave a silly little bow. “I’d be honored to assist you, kind sir.”

“Why thank you, my kind lady.” I smiled, impressed. “You must be brave to stay. You’re a true Good Samaritan.”

“Someone has to keep an eye on the toilet paper,” she said, her eyes dancing. “It’s a noble cause.”

I grinned, feeling lighter despite the ticking clock. “Lead the way, then. Aisle thirty-four, right?”

“Right.”

As we navigated through the store, I couldn’t help but steal glances at her. She moved purposefully yet gracefully, making me forget the impending doom of the new millennium.

“So, Tom, what’s your plan for the apocalypse?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.

“Honestly? I’m just trying to make sure I don’t have any regrets while I’m sitting on my throne using my toilet paper.”

She burst out laughing, a delightful sound that filled me with warmth. “Well, let’s get it then, so you’re not stuck.”

A loud crash echoed to my right. My heart raced as a group of frantic shoppers surged down the aisle, their carts bumping into one another.

“Hey! Watch it!” I shouted, dodging to the side.

“Tom, look out!” Angel grabbed my arm, pulling me back just as a cart barreled right at me.

“Thanks,” I panted, relief flooding me.

“It’s getting wild in here.”

“Yeah, and the clock is ticking. Let’s get this TP before you’re completely out.”

We dashed toward the aisle, but mayhem erupted all around us. Shoppers pushed and shoved, their voices rising in a cacophony of panic.

“Move! I need the canned goods!” someone screamed.

“Not before me!” another shouted.

“Why is there no bread?!” a woman wailed.

“Bread is overrated!” a man retorted.

“Excuse me,” Angel called out, raising her hands to get their attention. “We need to keep it civil here, folks!”

I watched her assertiveness, a newfound respect blooming in my chest. “Wow, you’re a born leader.”

“Desperate times…” She grinned, and I felt a rush of admiration.

When we arrived at aisle thirty-four, my heart sank. The bare shelves gleamed, their tags holding taunting guarantees of where the paper goods should be.

“Uh oh,” I muttered, eyeing the emptiness. “I guess we’re not the only ones preparing for the end.”

Angel rolled her eyes playfully. “If I had known toilet paper would be this popular, I would’ve stocked up myself.”

And then I saw it. A single package of generic toilet paper hiding in a corner like a beacon of hope for civilization. I snatched it, holding it triumphantly overhead. “Behold, my fair lady. Our prize is won!”

“And our mission a success,” she replied, amusement dancing in her eyes.

With the TP in hand, I headed to the checkout line. While we waited, Angel and I exchanged silent glances, as if we both hoped more was coming. My heart pounded as I fumbled for my wallet, the noise and turmoil around us fading into the background. The cashier, a frazzled older woman, scanned my toilet paper with a sigh of relief. “You’re lucky you got that. They’re practically fighting for it.”

I handed over the cash, feeling a mix of victory and sadness. My time with Angel might be coming to an end, just like the world. “Well, I guess I’m ready for any disaster…”

“Congratulations, Tom. You’re a true survivor.” Angel laughed, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

I stared into her emerald eyes, longing for our connection to last. “Since you’re off work, I don’t suppose you’d want to meet me for dinner?” 

“I would love to, Tom.” Those dimples reappeared on her cheeks shining like a promise of things to come.

As we stepped outside, the cool night air hit us like a wave. The stars were obscured by the glow of the store’s lights, but it felt different out here—charged with an energy that made my skin prickle. We headed for our cars and our dinner date. I felt a sense of anticipation bubbling inside me. The impending havoc of Y2K felt distant now, replaced by something much more exciting.