Bananas, chocolate and wine

The first time I saw him, I was in the supermarket, reading the label of a can of chopped tomatoes, looking for the latest allergen developed by my friend's son. At this point, I have a file in my phone with more than a hundred items that can give nightmares to any mom in the playground, but not me. We had invited them for dinner, and I was ready to prepare a vegetarian, lactose-free, gluten-free, kid-friendly lasagna, followed by a fruit salad, as long as there were no fruits in the list... so... banana. I had a plan: kid-proof lasagna and bananas. Not the most elaborate menu in history, but it would be ok. I am an optimist by nature.

I had almost finished my reading and was about to put the can in my basket when some man's legs in cargo shorts caught my attention. Would it make sense to say I recognized those hairy legs?

He was a big man, a head taller than me. He was tanned, although not in a pretty way, looking like one of those tourists who fall asleep on the beach and recover later at the bar, with beer, lots of beer. His body hair was blonde, almost white, and his head was shaved, leading me to believe it was probably done due to a lack of hair in some areas rather than a desire for a particular style. His t-shirt was plain white, his cargo pants were cacky, and he was wearing sandals that had seen better days in both shape and style.

As we walked down the corridors, I saw myself walking behind him and wondering who that man could be. I'd never seen myself doing such a thing, following a stranger, so every time he stopped, I did the same, picking a new random item from the shelves. Only when we arrived at the sweets and candy aisle and I grabbed a salt caramel chocolate bar did he turn. I saw his face, and it hit me—the memory, not the man. Those hairy legs, that shaved/ bold head, those blue eyes I hadn't seen for years... There he was, my ex.

I did a quick math in my head; it had been seventeen years since I had last seen him, at a terrible dinner some common friends had organized. For some reason, they believed we would be reasonable and enjoy the night, but the thing everyone spoke about for years after was the cup of wine I spilled over him and the weird vibe we inflicted on the rest of the group. The wine incident was a terrible accident-- something none of our friends believed. What I did on purpose, and luckily no one but him knew, was practising soccer under the table, against those hairy legs of his... He deserved every kick.

He had broken up with me one year before that dinner, which was the worst and the best he could have done to me. No matter how infuriating and dramatic the whole breakup was, how it tore our group of friends apart, and how miserable he made me feel, the fact is that, without him, I would not be in that supermarket. If he hadn't broken my heart and shattered my self-esteem for a while, I would not have the life I have.

I smiled at him, and he smiled back at me as he stared at the chocolate in my hand.

"That's so good. I haven't eaten that for years, but it used to be my favourite," he said, pointing at the bar.

Should I tell him? I thought. Nooo, nothing good would come from that...

"Do you come often here? He continued.

Worst pickup line ever. What did I see in this guy? How did I spend three years of my life with this...?

"I just moved, you know? I work at the university. Do you know it? Things here are so different from the place I come from... Are you from here?"

I didn't remember him so chatty.

I raised the bar, like a model in a TV commercial would do, and replied to him, "They are good, yes," though the fact was that the last time I had bought one of those, we were still living together. Why did I choose this? I don't eat this crap...

"Emm, sorry, I have to leave. I hope you like the city," I said, showing him my full shopping basket. I turned around, sped up to buy a couple of last things I needed, and walked to the cashier to pay and move on with my life.

As the cashier started to register my stuff and I was looking for my card to pay the bill, I heard a voice behind me, much more determined this time, much more like the one I remembered. After all, I fell for a self-confident guy, one with bright eyes and an immense smile. I forced myself to look at him again.

"Would you like to have a coffee or something else? he said with a cheeky smile. That smile. His blue eyes seemed brighter than I remembered. Maybe he uses contacts...

I removed my card from the reader and, as I was bringing it back to my wallet, I hit one of the wine bottles he had placed in front of the cashier.

The scene developed so quickly that I couldn't even think about what was happening: the bottle tilted and fell out of the mat. We both tried to catch it, but on my way to the save, the only thing I managed was to step over his foot with my high heels, on his bare toes... The glass broke, and the wine spilled all over his feet and legs. For some miraculous reason, not a single drop touched me.

"I'm really sorry, how clumsy of me!" I said to the cashier, who was already rushing to grab some paper towels. She handed them to me, and I gave them to him, but as soon as his thumb touched my hand, the way he looked at me changed.

"Elena?" he said. "Is it you? Here?"

"No, sorry, you confuse me with someone else," I said.

I picked up my bags and left, not running, but almost. He stood there, cleaning the wine mess and massaging his toes.

When I arrived home, as I was putting the groceries in the fridge, I heard my husband.

"How was the day?"

"Bananas," I said.

"Why? What happened?"

"Oh, nothing, don't worry... I just left something at the supermarket."