Rebecca left the grocery store gently swinging the clear plastic produce bag with the thick stem of broccoli – the green she needed to go with her tilapia. She probably shouldn’t have taken the bag since she was going to soak the Broccoli in her high Ph water anyway. She had enough plastic bags at home to make her own Great Pacific Garbage Patch. She did own a variety of string and cloth bags, but they never seemed to make it into the car, and if they did, they generally didn’t make it into the store. Occasionally she would ask someone to hold her space, or ask the cashier just to wait and not bag her items until she got her ecologically conscious paraphernalia from the car, but she knew this usually caused tongue clucking and eye rolling from the cashier and other patrons. For one bunch of broccoli, it didn’t seem worth the disruption. At least she didn’t take another bag.
As she headed out to her car thinking about the plastic strewn Pacific, she noticed the unmanned makeshift booth with its homemade sign for The Falzy Residential Home, a place that helped unfortunate people get back on their feet. She’d been asked for money before from a sad looking man who collected the donations in a shabbily decorated tin can. She was glad nobody was there to pester her for money today.
Walking toward her car, Beth began thinking I should look them up on the internet. I’ll bet I find something about them that shows that they don’t exist or that they’re a bunch of unscrupulous thieves. Then she stopped herself. Why do I always do this? she thought. Why can’t I just let it go or think nothing of it or think something positive? Maybe it is a good organization; maybe they do good work for people; maybe it’s worthwhile to support. She took a breath and scowled her way into the car.
“I want to be a nice person” she whined to the empty car. “I really do.” She let her head fall onto the steering wheel and silently screamed afraid that a verbal scream would have to be explained. Her facial expression would have scared anyone who looked at her had she made that face available to scrutiny. Frowning and making a ‘hut hut hut’ sound in her throat, she said out loud “I can’t stand all of these fucking horrible thoughts that go through my head all the time. It is soooo frustrating and I don’t know what to do.”
A voice from the backseat said “Get over it. You’re such a drama queen.”
She flipped her head around kinking her neck “Owww!” There was no one there.
“Great. Now I’m hallucinating.”
She started up the car and had to drive by the grocery store entrance to leave. A slightly disheveled man was now stationed by the makeshift booth. Before she got to it she stopped the car, reached into the glove-box and took out four of the quarters that otherwise would have been deposited into a parking meter. She rolled down her window, smiled and nodded her head to the man by the booth.
She dropped the coins into his hand. “God bless you,” he said exchanging her fake smile for a genuine one.
Beth raised the window, took a deep breath and drove to the street.
“I am such a sucker,” she said to herself. “Good thing I have caller ID.”
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