Big Box Beauty

Paul used to love the holidays. For fifteen years he fooled himself into believing his marriage was solid and he had everything he wanted. Now he browsed eBay as though it were Tinder, scrolling through the pages and pages of action figures from his childhood hoping to find a present for himself that might lift his mood and bring him some holiday cheer.

Certainly nobody else was going to get him a present, so he might as well treat himself to something that could bring him back to happier times.

His mom, a dainty woman with only half a filter, flopped onto the couch by his side. "Oh Paul," she sighed. "I'm so glad you could come and stay with us for the holidays, but you've had a cloud over your head since you got here."

Paul looked up from the 1988 edition Ninja Turtle action figure listing and almost rolled his eyes at his mother. "Thanks for having me," he said.

"Honey I'm sorry that awful ex wife of yours ruined so many things for you, but it's been almost five years since the divorce. Can't you just try to pretend that things are getting better?"

"Things are getting better mom," he insisted. "But the flood of feelings and memories this time of year... it's really tough. I'm sorry I can't be full of holiday cheer for you."

She looked into his eyes, a thick layer of tears trembling around her pupils, and she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him.

The wet, dull ache in his own stinging eyes went away as he let his eyelids fall, teardrops tumbling down his cheeks. He tried to contain the shaking, boiling feeling in his core but it was too late. He sobbed with his entire body, every muscle clenched, every face hole leaking.

"I hate the holidays," he cried, leaning into his mother's hug. "It's a cold and lonely and miserable time of year."

She held him tighter and pulled his shoulders square with hers so she could rub his back.

A loud crash upstairs sent a tremor through the walls of the house and Paul's mom looked up at the ceiling. The telltale muffled shouting of an argument wafted through the rafters and she let out a long sigh.

Paul gritted his teeth.

"Sounds like your sister and her husband are at it again," she groaned.

Paul sat up and sniffled. "I'm... going to go out for a bit," he said. "I can't listen to that."

"I'll text you when it's over," she said wearily.

He tried to stay calm, but hearing his siblings failing to appreciate their marriages always aggravated him. Every holiday season at least one sibling would invariably berate, ignore, or devalue their spouse and it felt like a knife in Paul's own chest. He stormed out the front door without his jacket and slammed himself into his car.

Even after the engine had been running for a while, the heat was slow to start. Shivering but refusing to go back into the house, he decided to drive to Walmart. Maybe he could pick up a cheap jacket there just to keep his mind away from his feelings.

Paul took a parking spot far from the entrance and ran into the super massive building. He could still remember when the store had been built back when he was younger. The previous Walmart location was tiny compared to this, but it had to be big. This was the only department store in more than a hundred mile radius, serving dozens of small communities.

He knew from growing up there that you could always expect two things at Walmart. It would always be busy, and you could always expect to run into someone you knew.

His gut churned at the second possibility. He'd moved away more than a decade ago and most people in the small town had no idea that he'd gotten a divorce.

Thankfully though, as he browsed the menswear section he didn't see anyone he knew. In fact, he roamed the store for over an hour without running into anyone. He found a jacket he liked, looked through the toys and games letting his mind wander through his childhood years, and he looked at every single movie they had.

His mom texted at some point saying it was safe to come home, but he just kept browsing until he could take deep breaths again. Finally, he took the jacket to the front and he froze.

The visual cortex of Paul's brain immediately seized control of every available resource. His awareness narrowed to just the beating of his own heart and a store employee on the other side of the checkout counters. The rest of the store disappeared. The other customers faded away. His breathing stopped. He wasn't carrying a jacket anymore. His divorce never happened. Days and months and years didn't mean anything at all. For a moment, there was no world outside of Paul and that one employee.

Megan.

He remembered the jacket then quickly discarded it, draping it over a rack of ugly Christmas sweaters. He made a beeline through the checkout lanes and plotted his course to intercept this old classmate from high school. But the closer he got the harder his heart beat against his chest and the tighter his chest became. What am I doing? he thought. What will I say? Is this a good idea? She was just up ahead, walking at a meandering pace along the front wall of the store, and all he had to do was take a few more steps, open his mouth, and... And then what?

Paul didn't have time to come up with a plan. She spotted him and his heart stopped. Her face slowly lit up and a familiar smile spread across her face up into her eyes. He felt as though he'd been kicked in the gut and she turned to face him.

"Paul?" she asked, shocked. "I thought you moved away years ago!" He scrambled to gather his thoughts but before he could she closed the gap between them and embraced him.

He chuckled nervously and returned the hug briefly, the imprint of her warmth clinging to his body as they separated.

"Wow!" she exclaimed. "It's been so long! What have you been up to?"

A weak half smile kicked one of his eyebrows up briefly. "Not too much," he said. "Just... life stuff I guess."

She laughed. "Me too," she said, looking around. "Hey! I'm just getting off work. Are you hungry? Wanna grab some lunch and catch up?"

The thumping of his heart all but drowned out the other sounds around him. His eyes pressed out against their sockets and he opened his lips to speak, but nothing happened.

"Oh," she said. "Sorry. I just..."

"No!" he blurted. "I mean, I'd love to get lunch with you. I just... It's just that..."

"I mean it's not like a date or anything," she said sheepishly.

"It's not that!" he coughed. "I'm just... Well when we were..."

"Oh," she said. "Yeah, we weren't really that close in school."

Paul could feel a cold sweat rising from beneath every square inch of his skin. Hot moisture was seeping out of every pit, crack, and fold in his body. He could feel his tongue about to betray him, the tingle of truth prickling at his mind. "Well," he began, his jaw struggling against the words he could feel bubbling up from inside. "I had a massive crush on you."

Her eyebrows lifted and she stared at him for a long, uncomfortable few seconds. Some part of Paul's mind was searching for the undo button, desperately wishing to erase what had just happened. Finally, her lips pulled into a soft, radiant smile and she graciously pretended that he was a lot cooler than he actually was.

"You wanna walk with me while I drop the vest off in my car and we can decide where we're going for lunch?"

Paul just smiled and nodded, shocked at how warm it felt outside as they left the big box store together.