Love Unscripted
Page 94By the time I was finished shopping, my cart was loaded to the brim; I was no longer shopping for one. Even though I was mostly focused on my list, I still nervously looked over my shoulder every now and then. Was the curly-haired girl following me? I was slightly relieved that I never saw her again.
The cart was heavy and hard to push through the parking lot. The front wheel of the cart was wobbling and I had to use two hands to keep it going in a straight line.
Sounds of tires squealing on the macadam captured my attention; instinctively I looked for the source of the noise. That’s when I saw the old blue Plymouth coming straight at me from the end of the line of cars.
Thoughts of me dying in a parking lot, just like my mother, flashed through my mind.
Some deep down impulse forced me to release the grocery cart and leave it where it was; my body jumped in between two parked cars. If the psycho bitch was going to take me out, she’d have to take a few cars out with me. But instead, she drove right past me. She didn’t even glance in my direction.
I watched as she drove off out of the parking lot. She hadn’t aimed for me at all. I felt quite silly for letting my imagination get away like that. I shook my head to get my mind back to the task at hand, and pushed my cart to the trunk of my car to transfer my bags.
When I pulled down my alley, the paparazzi were there, waiting for me. I wish they would stop taking my picture and help me, I thought to myself as the cameras clicked around me. Wow, exciting news… Ryan Christensen’s girlfriend grocery shops! Stop the damn presses!
People are starving all around the globe, the pollutants we pump in the air are destroying the ozone, the global economy is in the toilet, but yet the most exciting news at this moment was to capture me digitally as I unloaded my groceries.
I hurried down the alley; again in a strange way I was actually relieved that there were other people around, even if they were the pesky paparazzi. They only wanted to take my picture; somehow they were not threatening. And now that I had seen them several days in a row, their faces were becoming familiar to me.
The one photographer I recognized was a small Italian-looking man with short, peppered dark gray hair and a scruffy beard. He was the nicest of them all so far. He didn’t ask annoying questions; he just asked me how my day was going. I wondered if these leeches actually had a heart when it came to their chosen profession.
Another one of the photographers that I recognized was taller, maybe six-two or six-three, with a well-pronounced nose and dark, olive skin. He also was somewhat nice, complimenting me on my clothing all the time. Today he liked my jacket. I pondered when the fact that I didn’t always wear designer clothes would come into play.
As I unlocked my back door, the short Italian man wished me a blessed evening. “Thank you, sir! You too!” I replied with a cheerful smile.
After I carried all the groceries upstairs and had most of them put away, I called Tammy.
“Hey, I need you to ask Tony a question for me.” Tammy’s brother was a police officer in Providence. “I think I have a fan problem. Can you ask him what the criteria is for getting a restraining order?”
Tammy gasped. “Is it that bad already?”
“I don’t know. This one girl just keeps showing up. I’m not sure if it was a coincidence or not, but I just saw her in CostMart over in South Hampton. And she just drove down the street after I unloaded my car. I’m a bit freaked out actually!”
“I’ll ask him. Maybe you should consider not opening the bar by yourself? Can you wait until someone else is there with you?”
“Rather be safe than sorry,” Tammy said.
“You’re right. Please ask Tony for me; see if he has any suggestions.”
I put all the groceries away then placed a small pack of hamburger meat in a skillet on the stove. I thought I’d start dinner now so when he got home we could eat together.
Home? Wait… did my brain just say “home”? I walked around my apartment, observing that there were little bits of Ryan in every room. All his clothing was stowed away in my bedroom, pants from yesterday laying on my chair, his expensive watch and cufflinks were on my dresser next to his bottle of cologne, a new script and a book were setting out on the coffee table, and his toothbrush was hanging in the bathroom next to mine.
Blending my life with his seemed so effortless. I tried to recall how and when it all happened.
It was almost four o’clock – time to turn the bar lights on and open for business. I was comforted knowing that Cory would be here soon. I turned the television on for background noise and adjusted my business hours sign to reflect the new opening time.
I had expected to see Cory as the first person through my door, but instead a few female patrons came in - no doubt here to see sights of Ryan Christensen. The three girls sat down at the bar; they looked quite young.
“Good evening, ladies,” I greeted them. “What can I get you?”
One of them was sort of glaring at me; I didn’t care for the vibe she was emanating.
“Sure. May I see some identification first, please?” I asked politely. If you’re not twenty-one you’re not staying.
One of them was barely twenty-one and the other two were only twenty-two years old; none of them were from Rhode Island. All three of the girls were from Massachusetts, which was a forty minute drive from here just to the border.
I was so relieved to see Cory walk through the door that I couldn’t suppress my smile. One of the girls whipped her head around to see who I was smiling at.
“Hey boss. Sorry I’m a few minutes late,” Cory apologized. In actuality he was only four minutes late. Certainly not a big deal, especially since I had changed his schedule from part-time to almost full-time.
“No worries, Cory. I’m just happy you could work.” I patted him on his shoulder. Secretly I was thanking my lucky stars that I wasn’t working alone.
“Limes?” Cory asked, looking around. I hadn’t cut any yet.