Remember Me Not, My Love

Remember Me Not, My Love By J.D. Walker “Excuse me. Can you tell me where to find the batteries?” I didn’t have much time because my lunch break was almost over. The store clerk had his back to me where he kneeled on the floor, since he was stocking items on a lower shelf. As he straightened from his stooped position, I noticed he wore his hair closely shaved on the sides, with a blond mohawk that was about two inches tall. His uniform shirt was short-sleeved, so I could see the tattoos he had inked on both arms. They were really cool Celtic designs. He had an earring in both ears, but holes for more metal ran up and down the cartilage. For some reason he looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. When he turned to face me, I saw he had bright green eyes. I thought he was kinda hot, actually. But then, a look of recognition and shock came over his face, and he stared at me like he’d seen a ghost. When he didn’t say anything after about ten seconds, I said, “I’m sorry, man, but I’m kind of in a hurry. Just point me in the right direction, okay?” I didn’t want to be rude, but I was in a hurry. He lifted a shaky finger and pointed behind me. When I turned to look in that direction, I saw an end cap near aisle six that was full of batteries. Duh. “Thanks,” I said. I hurried over there, grabbed a packet of AAs, and headed to the cashier. After paying with cash, I thanked the woman behind the counter and jogged to the exit. Before I left the store, though, I felt eyes on me. I turned my head and saw mohawk-dude still staring at me. I didn’t have time to figure out why, since I had only a minute to dash across the street to get back to my job on time. “Maureen, I’m back,” I announced fifty seconds later as I entered Shoe Haven. Opening the door always triggered a bell to let the employees know when someone came into the store. My boss left the register stand and walked briskly toward me, her handbag swinging from her left shoulder. “It’s about damn time,” she said as she grabbed the batteries and cash from my hand. A ‘thank you’ would have been nice, but I didn’t hold my breath. “Clean up the kids’ shoe area and put the fifty percent off signs in the window while I’m gone. I’ll be back in half an hour.” Probably a lot later than that, actually, but it wasn’t worth my job—or her temper—to complain. “Yes, ma’am,” I responded as she left the store in a hurry. It took me most of the hour and a half she was actually gone—no surprise there—just to clean up that part of the store. It was totally trashed. We got a lot of foot traffic from moms, dads, and nannies hauling recalcitrant kids into the store, looking for bargains. Maureen was always conveniently absent when the noise level ramped up, claiming paperwork duties in her office. I found that hilarious, since I did most of the paperwork anyway. I was always covering her ass. As I placed the signs in the window, I thought about my life and just shook my head. Why was I working in a low-end shoe store for such a bossy, thankless b***h? Oh, right. I’d screwed up my life by daring to be gay.