May 17

Another drab day—how it always goes. I don’t remember anything else about it, in fact. It was just that drab. So plain and boring it didn’t stand out.

Until you said “excuse me, ma’am…”

I jumped and turned, my heart racing from fright. In the jewelry aisle customers ask me questions all the time. I’m never alone. Somehow you managed to scare me horribly, I felt stupid. And you were so handsome. Tall, a slight smile that hinted at devilish thoughts. Narrowed, humored eyes.

You scared me and loved it.

But being so polite you still brought yourself to apologize, “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I don’t honestly remember what I did – I think I smiled. I’m not too sure. I did something. I just remember feeling embarrassed, I was probably blushing. “Oh, no, it’s ok. . . “ or something of that sort. I just don’t remember much about what I did.

I remember you, though – so clear in my mind. Tall, heavy set features, a 5-o’clock shadow, and wearing all black. A uniform. A security uniform is what I thought it was—short sleeves and black pants and a chain that draped across your chest. Verile.

Then you asked, in a quiet deep voice, “I was actually looking for the steel wool, do you know where it is?”

I didn’t know if we even carried any. I couldn’t get my brain to function. “Um…I think, I’m not sure…I think we don’t, we do have sandpaper.” I was certain about that.

The only thing missing from my over-excited attitude was a pair of pink pompoms.

“Oh, where’s that?”

“In the far back left corner…” I motioned in the air with my hands. “I’ll walk you over there.”

So polite, again, you discouraged my effort, “No, that’s ok, I’ll find it…thanks.”

“Sure thing, not a problem!”

I went back to hanging packets of seed beads thinking of how stupid I was for working here and not knowing if we had steel wool or not…and then you almost scared me again when you came back.

This time you informed me that we did, in fact, carry steel wool.

Yes – I felt stupid. I must have blushed or looked annoyed because you asked me, “What?”

“Oh nothing…it’s just that for how long I’ve worked here I should have known whether we have steel wool or not.”

You laughed, an airy quiet laugh of pure amusement at my dissatisfaction with myself. “You can’t possibly know everything that you have here.”

“It’s my job to know everything we have here, though.”

You just smiled…

My memory goes a little fuzzy after that – you introduced yourself, only I had a hard time hearing through the cotton in my ears.

I heard your name was “Soul.” …I missed the rest. I was distracted by the bit of a black tattoo that showed from under your sleeve on your left arm.

My heart melted.

We shook hands.

Yep – that’s how we met . . . you scared me, I looked like a bad employee, and then we shook hands.

You needed help finding crimps for jewelry making – I remember walking to the next aisle and I didn’t consider what you needed crimps for, I just remember you being so close to me and how I had a smile on my face I couldn’t seem to wipe away.

When you left – I watched you walk away wondering if you had a pair of handcuffs hanging from your belt. “You can handcuff me any day.”

I told people about you – even though I shouldn’t have. You were in my mind for a long time.

A few days later – you came back. With a fake rose you plucked from the floral department. It was deep burgundy, comically oversized with a super long stem.

I was in the bandana aisle resetting the glass slats when you gave it to me – so sweet. We talked, you gave me your email address. I felt like I was in a cottony haze. I don’t remember much about what we talked about. I just remember smiling so much my cheeks hurt. I hadn’t felt so excited in – ever.

You came back days later, I hugged you…and you helped a customer figure out which size railroad slats he needed for his A2 scale model train. I just remember standing there thankful you were there to help with something I knew nothing of, and I couldn’t stop watching how your bicep flexed as you stood talking – shaking your small jar of model paint.

You were wearing a green sleeveless shirt…showing more tattoos on your arms that I couldn’t quite figure out – but I was trying, that’s for sure. Red, black and orange.

You came back again – and again – always needing some sort of help. On my insistence, much to the detriment of my employment, you stayed for endless hours one day talking to me.

You started calling me on the phone – again – and again. Your reasons to talk to only me became more creative as my manager began to figure out we had something going on…

“Do you sell hemp? Is it bleached or natural?” and “The thread count for the muslin, is it 200 or 400?”

On and on – A few weeks later my manager was less than thrilled with me.

The girl who was the jewelry department manager came back after being gone those few weeks.
I was back in the fabric department.

Our lives started to spiral around each other until – just weeks later – you proposed in the quilter’s block calico aisle of the fabric department with a bouquet of 6 roses. The ring was tucked away inside; silver with a heart shaped diamond setting.

We’ve been together ever since – us – going on year 10.

We still marvel over that – how we met. Just you, just me…no blind dates or online hookup websites. Just a few weeks of me covering the jewelry department and you coming into my aisle in the search for staff. It could have been anyone. It could have been Liam or Stacy or Nick or Heshfield. But it was me and it was you.

We still have all those mementoes. The steel wool, that rose you gave me that I never paid for, the jar of paint, your ratted t-shirt, and that uniform.