I go in, Jordan waits in the car with Holden.
Two registers are open with three people in line at each in front of me.
I'm waiting with my head meds and pint of ice cream when the guy checking at the register on the left loudly asks, "ma'am, are you ok?"
He appears to be looking at me. Stunned, I glance over each shoulder to see who he is addressing ... yep, he's talking to me.
"I'm fine." Which came out in a stutter.
"You look like you are about to cry."
Thanks for that, buddy. EVERYONE turns to see the pregnant lady about to cry clutching a box of pain reliever and a pint of Blue Bell.
"No, really I'm fine. Just tired and feeling kind of big, today." Please stop staring at me.
The woman checking at the register on the right pipes in, "Yeah, sweetie. You don't look so good. You're flush."
YA THINK! Maybe I'm flush because strangers are looking me over and diagnosing my emotional state.
"Seriously, I'm just tired."
"Well, she probably just needs to get home and eat that ice cream," the lovely lady at the register replies. I suddenly notice she is missing a tooth in the front and can't stop staring at it ... or lack of it.
"Why don't you come on up here so we can get you out of here," she adds.
The sea of strangers parts for the pitiful woman with the enormous belly. I shuffle to the front of the line with meds and ice cream against my chest ... in slow motion and I swear the music blasting over the PA stops so that I can hear my feet dragging on the tile.
The toothless hag tries to make conversation about how she is going home in an hour, should go to bed, but will stay online chatting all night.
"Well, you enjoy that ice cream, Honey." She grins.
It's not even my ice cream!!!!!!
I'm almost home free.
The guy checking on the left yells to me as I approach the door, "bye! Have a good night, I hope you feel better!" And several well-wishers in line add similar comments as I sprint out the door.
-Carmen
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