Grocery Shopping

Just a little thing I wrote tonight.  Enjoy =)

                It was an ordinary day in an ordinary supermarket in the LA area.  Sem was in a nearby store and had left Sorena the task of picking up a few groceries.

                The ancient woman stood in the freezer aisle, peering through the smudgy glass doors at the products behind them.  The aisle was completely clear save for a few people stealing bewildered glances at the witch from around corners.  Sorena sighed and consulted a small list in her hand, looking down her thin nose at it, reading the neat handwriting.

                “Ice cream,” Sorena muttered.  “We never buy ice cream…”  She took a step or two sideways until she was in front of the section labeled ‘Ice Cream’.  “How much ice cream?” she wondered aloud.  Sem hadn’t specified how much.  “And he just expects me to know what flavour he wants?”  She’d only known him for about eight hundred years – how was she to know?

                The woman gazed at the selection.  A minor defect in the packaging of one of the tubs caught her eye.  It was a miniscule dent in the corner, one that only the most tragic of OCD cases would detect.  Of course, Sorena wasn’t OCD, she was just easily distracted.  She darted her eyes to the right, and then to the left, and then opened the refrigerator door, snatched the deformed tub of ice cream, and casually tossed it into the plastic shopping basket she held.  She hadn’t even checked to see what flavor it was.

                As she walked away she read off the next item on the list.  “…Pickles?”  She stopped.  “He doesn’t even like pickles…” she commented.  “Do I like pickles?” she thought for a moment.  “I don’t believe I do.”  With another sigh she went about finding the condiment aisle.  After a moment she located the aisle and after another moment was looking at jars of pickles.

                On the other end of the aisle the loud sound of thick-heeled boots could be heard against the linoleum floors.  The wearer of the boots passed by and spotted the mass of dark clothing that was Sorena in the corner of her eye.  She glanced Sorena’s way and smiled almost immediately, coming to a stop.  The second woman was dressed much more modernly, wearing skin-tight jeans, a navy blouse, and a silky-grey flyaway vest along with the aforementioned boots that went up to her knees.

                Within another moment the woman was making her way down the aisle towards Sorena.  The new woman had a very tangible presence about her, but Sorena was completely oblivious to such things.

                “Well, well, well,” the new woman said with a smug grin, hand on her hip.  “Look who’s come out of her dark lair to be in the real world.”

                “…This one,” Sorena said to herself.  “This one looks like Bach…”  She was pointing a finger at a specific pickle in a specific jar.  She grabbed it and dropped it into her basket and only then noticed the woman standing next to her.  Sorena blinked at the woman for a moment, a blank expression on her face.  “Oh…” she muttered, realizing who was talking to her.  “Hello Lysis.”

                Lysis smiled.  “You’re less and less focused each time I see you.  I keep waiting for the day when you lose it entirely and Sem will finally have to admit you into a home.”

                “Are you normally this rude to every person you encounter, I wonder?” Sorena shot back, walking away.

                “Just you really, dear,” Lysis answered, walking beside the woman.  “I didn’t know you did these sorts of things.”

                “What things?”

                “Grocery shopping.”

                “Well,” Sorena started, a bit flabbergasted.  “Of course I buy groceries.”

                “I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you eat,” Lysis pointed out.

                “Don’t be ridiculous.  Of course I eat,” Sorena said.  “You don’t even have a right to say something like that when the only thing I’ve seen you consume is alcohol.”

                Lysis laughed.  “I don’t drink as much as you think I do.”

                “No, certainly not,” Sorena rolled her eyes.  She wandered into the next aisle and began randomly perusing through the products on the shelves.

                “Ice cream and pickles…” Lysis said with a raised brow.  “Please tell me this is for one of your weird concoctions.”

                “Ask Sem!” Sorena huffed.  “Neither of us even like pickles!”

                “Ugh, disgusting.  I wish you two wouldn’t act like a couple.  It’s upset my stomach on more than one occasion.”

                “Are you certain you weren’t simply hung-over?” Sorena cracked.

                “Old skag, you’re lucky I don’t just put a bullet in your head and put you out of your misery.”

                “You’re lucky I tolerate you so much.  If Sem wasn’t so fond of you I would have made you disappear a long time ago.”

                “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lysis shot back, enjoying the passive-aggressive banter.

                “What are you doing here anyway?” Sorena asked. “I always thought you frequented places where pints of milk cost thousands of dollars.”

                “Thousands of dollars for some milk?” Lysis crooked a brow. “The economy’s not that bad yet, dear.”

                “Answer my question,” Sorena said.

                Lysis shrugged.  “I was passing by and needed to grab some things.  Like you, I also do everyday things like buy groceries.”

                Sorena wasn’t convinced.  “You live in the city centre, which is twenty minutes away.”

                “Can’t a girl go out?”

                “Out where?”

                “Working.”

                “Ha!” Sorena shouted.  She knew what ‘working’ meant when it came to Lysis.  The young woman made quite a living on ending the living of others, to put it simply.  “See, at least I spend my time in a commendable manner-”

                “Rasputin.”

                “…What?”

                “Rasputin,” Lysis repeated.

                “I… T-that was an accident!” Sorena said indignantly.

                “Yes, of course, love,” Lysis nodded.

                “It was!  The man was bonkers anyway,” she whispered fiercely under her breath.

                “And who didn’t take responsibility?  You?  Oh yes, that’s right,” Lysis continued, completely enjoying herself.

                “Still!  It wasn’t on purpose!  And I didn’t get paid for it!  So I will still judge you.”

                Lysis shrugged again.

                The two continued their banter for the rest of Sorena’s little shopping trip.  Sem met them as they stepped out of the store.

                “Ah, Lysis, I thought I sensed you here,” Sem said.

                “Hey, babe,” Lysis said.  “Just helping the old woman out with her shopping.  You shouldn’t leave her on her own like that, you know.”

                Sem rolled his eyes and took the grocery bag from Sorena and peered inside.

                “… Pickles?”

                “That’s what I said,” Sorena commented.

                “The list didn’t say to get pickles,” Sem mumbled.

                “It did actually!” Sorena said, producing the list. 

                “I will vouch for her this once and say that it did have pickles on there,” Lysis said. “Poor Sem, her sickness is rubbing off on you.”

                Sem snatched the list and looked at it for less than a moment before saying, “I didn’t write this.”

                Sorena stole back the list.  “You’re right.  This isn’t your handwriting.”

                “You couldn’t notice that before?” Lysis wondered, quite amused.

                Sorena thought for a moment.  “Oh, yes, that’s right.  As I was walking in I realized that I had misplaced the list you had given me.  I looked around on the ground and found this and simply assumed it was the one you had written.”

                Sem only shook his head and smiled before grabbing the old woman’s arm and pulled her back inside.  Lysis followed behind them with a phone in her hand, saying loud enough for Sorena to hear, “I think I will tell Francis to buy her that coffin…”

©2011 James Curry a.k.a Sem