A while back, when I was sixteen, I had taken a job at a local grocery store. I lived in a small town, and even through the store was quite small, it was the largest one in the county.
The air-conditioner broke that morning, and so did I. Heat licked me from head-to-toe, the sticky byproduct dripping upon the counter. Customers walked into the store, wiped perspiration from their brows, and left as quickly as ice cream melted. I thought I would melt.
The chime of an alarm announcing midday should have excited me. It was my lunch break, and that meant a pause in a long day of operating the cash register. Yet as I stand from my stool, motioning an employer who was scrubbing at the windows to my station, I trace my dry-lipped frown with trembling fingers. By the way I was stalking to the break room- which was in the back of the store past the discounted ropes- you would have thought I was impersonating a lion in a game of charades.
The sign on the paint-peeling door twisted in my eyes. Employees Only becoming scripture from some long forgotten language. For a wonder, the break room was a bit cooler, but still heated enough for me to question whether or not I was trapped in Hell. For a wonder, I didn't immediately collapse on the faded leather couch across from the television. Normally, I would have switched it on immediately, carefully turning the delicate dials, and watch the news, ignoring the slanted crack that obstructed the reporter's face. Today wasn't a normal day, through.
I sagged against the refrigerator, and opened it with a moan more enthusiastic than any orgasm. Frigid air rushed between cans of soda, smushed sandwiches in ziploc bags, and a lone pickle jar. Basking in the blessed cool, I snatched out a Mountain Dew, pressing it to my forehead. I decide to leave the refrigerator open as I make my way to the couch, stopping only to remove my bag of chips from the cabinet. Never before had those leather cushions felt so good.
Feet supported by a coffee table, with a soda in one hand, chips in the other, I was much too comfortable to get up and turn on the television. Not that I needed more entertainment than I already had, staring at the walls. On a day of torridity such as this, certain guests were attracted.
Before the current owner bought this building, turning it into a grocery store, it had been a pet store. In a county with more live stock than people, no one had any interest in purchasing animals that wouldn't produce profit. The pet store went out of business within six months. Only one thing remained of that failed business. The geckos.
Probably starting with a few escaping from an unsecure cage, now an entire colony thrived in the break room's plaster walls. With the temperature rising into three digits, the geckos were summoned from their homes, brown creature the size of my thumb twiddling across the ceiling and walls. In the past, employees have tried to catch one of these thriving reptilians. All attempts failed. Mechanically tossing chips into my mouth, I watch as these miniscule beasts hop around, nipping at each other's tails and occasionally licking at an eyeball. A civilization lied before me. Never at the time did I think my doings would aid in its destruction. I was but a boy, but within ten minutes, I became a man.
One of the chips crunched between my teeth. A chip? It felt more like a pebble. Could even a stale chip be so hard? Warm liquid and a metallic tang tainted my tongue. I look down at my lap, and there, on my left knee, is a gecko. A dying gecko. Tongue protruded from its mouth like a bubble gum bubble, I watch silently as it feebly raises a clawed paw. I let the contents of my mouth spill down my chin. Soggy, munched-together chips fall onto a leather cushion. Yet it was not at the saliva-contorted snack which I stared. Sloshing onto my opposite knee, the hind legs and tail of an unfortunate gecko was forever embedded into my memories. The tail still twitched in protest of death.
I would die one day, I realized, and probably from partially eating a gecko. Standing slowly, the two halves fell to the floor. Maybe I could skip my lunch break. I yearned to forget my grim deed through the laborious fiddling with the cash register. I shut the refrigerator door with a sigh.
I almost scream at the much-too similar crack. Unbeknownst to me, a gecko had braved the great cold, slipping partway into the refrigerator. Now, a pitiful leg poked from between the doors. A brown tail slid from its sheathe and smeared the white of the refrigerator with red ink.
Two small holes were dug behind the store, marked with two popsicle stick crosses.
Submitted August 05, 2015 at 04:39AM by Riadyt http://ift.tt/1IFCKdx TalesFromRetail
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