of salted cashews; a box of toffee popcorn; a can of Wyler’s “Limited Edition” cola-flavored drink powder; a couple of bungee cords, just in case; and a large backpack to carry it all in. I offloaded the cart’s contents onto the conveyor.
“Cash or credit?”
“Credit.”
Goulet merely glanced at the items going by and punched in what seemed to be arbitrary prices.
“Ma’am? I was wondering. Can you recommend a decent restaurant nearby? Nothing fancy, just diner food; eggs, bacon.”
“Open or closed?”
“Open would be better.”
“The Crow’s Nest, up the road.”
“Thank you.” She charged me only a buck and a half for the toothpaste and brush. I was curious. “One other thing, if you don’t mind, ma’am. Do you know Opal Cove Road, just back a way?”
“I live on Tide Pool.”
“I don’t know it.”
“It’s one street over. Lived there my whole life.”
“So if anyone could answer my question, it would be you. How far is Opal Cove Road from where we are right now?”
“Six-tenths of a mile. On the nose.”
Get the fuck out of here. I had biked only slightly more than half a mile. I felt like I’d just failed a cardiologist-sanctioned all-day stress test.
My pathetic, defining possessions were having an orgy at the end of the moving conveyor. Goulet and I were the only people in the store. It didn’t matter. She fixed a fluorescent orange PAID sticker to each of the bicycle tires. Three days earlier, Jocelyn said she’d love me for the rest of my life if I let her.
“Do you sell medicine cabinets? The ones with mirrors for doors?”
“In kitchens and baths. Left at the commodes.”
“What do those go for?”
“Thirty-six ninety-nine or forty-two ninety-nine.”
“Do you have one that’s thirty dollars?”
Goulet shook her head.
“Okay. Ring me up one of the thirty-six ninety-nine jobs.”
A COUPLE OF days after the Richie and Josie incident, I saw Jocelyn buying a newspaper and cigarettes at Ozzie’s Tobacco Shop on Pleasant Street. She was wearing a pink tank top and olive-green painter’s pants. Her toenails matched her shirt. I stayed out of sight behind a divider of greeting cards. When she started for the register I came out of hiding and followed her. I was shaking. I didn’t know what I was going to say or what she’d think of me for living with Richie. That whole “The friend of the enemy of my friend is my enemy” thing can be powerful. I stood behind her in line. She turned when I coughed.
“Hey, how’s it going?” I asked.
“Fine. You?”
I acted like a guy whose car is in the shop again. “Oh, you know.”
“I hear you,” she said. She asked Ozzie for a pack of Marlboro Lights. He put the smokes on the counter. “Oh, I’m sorry. I meant soft pack, not box. Thank you,” she said sweetly.
I went for it. “Isn’t it weird how you have to have the right kind of pack? I mean, are Marlboros in a soft pack better than Marlboros in a box?”
“Not better,” Jocelyn said. “Better for you.”
“Ah, so that’s it.”
“Keep it low. It’s an industry secret.”
“Huh. And to think all these years . . .”
“Same thing with Coke. A bottle’s better than a can.”
“Really?”
“Yup.” She pocketed her change and headed for the door.
I threw a twenty at Ozzie. “Coke or Pepsi?” I called after Jocelyn.
“Give me a break. Coke. Canada Dry or Schweppes?”
“Canada Dry, hands down. Canada or America?”
“Canada,” Jocelyn said. Ozzie didn’t know what the fuck was going on.
“Canada? You must be out of your mind,” I said. “Canada’s practically communist.”
“Oh, brother, you’re not one of those, are you?”
“I don’t think so. How do you tell?”
“You can never really tell, can you?”
“I can sometimes.”
“Well, lucky you.” She folded her paper under her arm. “Be good.” She stepped out onto the sidewalk.
“Hang on a second. Aren’t you going to have one of those smokes?”
“I plan on having all of them.” She was quick and she knew it. I loved both of those things about her.
“I meant now, while they’re still fresh.”
“I’m in a rush.”
“Come on. What are you going to say on your death-bed: I should have rushed around more?” Ozzie took his time with my change. “What’s one little smoke?” Jocelyn smiled. I watched her as she waited for me on the sidewalk. A dark blue station wagon parked in front of Ozzie’s appeared greenish, tinted by a dusting of pollen. By noon the air would be oppressively hot and humid. I knew the next thing I had to do was throw my good friend Richie under the