Bachelorette Blues

“Max! Help me!”

Max, who had been standing off to the side, openmouthed, wheeled the empty shopping cart over to her. “Okay, now slowly step away,” he instructed.

She gently eased sideways and the oranges that had been stacked at her back fell into the cart. “What a mess.”

Oranges were everywhere. A young woman in a long skirt was hopscotching over the rolling fruit with a carton of milk and a bag of bagels tucked under her arms. At the end of the aisle, the older of the two boys from the shopping cart derby was trying to juggle oranges, while the toddler clapped with glee.

Max darted around the aisle, gathering oranges while Shayna tried restacking the ones that had fallen into the cart. After she’d stacked three oranges, the pile rolled back off. No matter how she tried, the fruit wouldn’t stay put.

“What’s going on here?” a stock boy asked Shayna just as Max returned with his arms full of oranges.

The mother of the two grocery circus performers showed up to pull her boys away, leaving Shayna and Max to take the blame.

Shayna tried to stack another orange on the stand. “There was a little accident” The orange rolled off onto the stock boy’s foot…followed by three more.

“Aw, man.” The teenager reached down to pick up the oranges. “When I applied for this job, they promised me stuff like this only happened on television.”

“I’m so sorry.” Shayna filled her arms with fruit, trying to help the boy refill the display. He turned suddenly and she spilled her armload all over him.

The boy cursed under his breath, shooing her away. “I’ll take care of it. Just go.”

Shayna and Max hastily rounded the corner into the next aisle. Feeling her cheeks sting, she motioned to the oranges—at least two dozen—that still layered the bottom of their cart.

Max waved her off, obviously struggling to keep a straight face. “Leave ‘em. You can never have too much vitamin C.”

“Okay, we’ve gotten the eggs, butter and cream. All we need now is chocolate.” Max steered Shayna toward the candy aisle. She’d refused to handle the eggs because she swore, with her luck, she’d break them all.

“Good.” Shayna moaned, eyeing the oranges in their cart, now stored safely in plastic bags. “Then we can leave before I strike again.”

Max shook his head warily. She did seem to be having a rough time of it lately. He’d thought what happened at the mixer last night was a once-in-alifetime catastrophe, but since then he’d come to the conclusion that Shayna was just straight-up clumsy.

Until recently she’d always been cool and collected, and it warmed him to see this side of her. He found her clumsiness endearing. But the old Shayna was still alive and well. In between dodging shopping carts and skating on spilled detergent, she’d managed to talk him into buying a pocket planner and changing his brand of toothpaste.

Max picked up the large bittersweet chocolate bar the recipe called for. When he returned to the cart, he found Shayna studying a row of chocolate almond candy bars with open lust.

“Shayna?”

“Hmm?” She faced him with a dreamy, glassyeyed look.

“If you want a candy bar, just get one.”

She bit her lip in obvious distress. “No. I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Chocolate is my biggest weakness. I only let myself indulge on special occasions.”

Max walked over, picked a candy bar and held it out to her. “Life is too short to be so hard on yourself. If you want something, you have to take it.” He waved the candy bar. “Take it.”

She turned away. “No. No. No. I try to maintain a well-balanced diet. It would show a terrible lack of discipline for me to give in.”

“Shayna, you have a gorgeous figure. One little candy bar isn’t going to—”

She turned back, clearly embarrassed. “No, that’s not it. I want it too much, and that’s why I need to restrain myself. I control the chocolate.…The chocolate doesn’t control me.”

After a final longing look at the candy bar, she turned and began pushing their cart up the aisle.

“I’ll have to remember that,” Max said, following behind her.

After filling the cart with all the necessary ingredients, they headed for the checkout line.

“This way,” Max said, steering her to the left.

“But, Max, that’s the longest line. This one over here is shorter.”

He shook his head. “Maybe, but the quality of service isn’t the same. Trust me, this lane will be worth the wait.”

Shayna eyed the line, making no effort to hide her frustration. “How could any lane be worth a wait this long?”

Max realized the lane was at least twice as long as the others, and Shayna seemed baffled by the fact that no one else seemed to mind. Couples chattered softly among themselves, while others flipped through magazines from the display racks.

As they neared the front, Shayna released another incredulous sigh. She jabbed her elbow into his side. “Max, this woman is the worst,” she said, referring to the checkout clerk, a heavyset woman with a short salt-and-pepper Afro. “She’s doing more socializing than grocery packing.”

He just grinned blithely. “Nah, May Belle’s the best. She’s the main reason I shop here.”

When they reached the head of the line, Shayna looked ready to jump out of her skin. She hastily unloaded their cart, clearly anxious for their shopping excursion to end.

“Well, hi, sugar. How are you doing this afternoon?” May Belle greeted Max with more warmth than some of his relatives at family reunions.

“I’m just fine, May Belle. How are you feeling?”

“Well, now, you know it’s been a trial.” May Belle started with her aching corns and worked her way up to the chronic pain in her back.

“Hang in there, May Belle.”

“Oh, Lord, I do try, but you know how they like to work a poor woman to death up in this place.” The sparkle in her eyes said she wouldn’t have it any other way. “Enough about me. Let’s see what you got here.”

Then May Belle’s eyes fell on Shayna. “My goodness, boy, why didn’t you tell me you finally found yourself a girlfriend? And she’s beautiful, too. Don’t you two make a handsome couple.”

“This is Shayna Gunther, May Belle, and we’re just friends. Right now.”

Shayna opened and closed her mouth, the color in her cheeks deepening. Max winked at Shayna, enjoying her flustered reaction.

“Nonsense.” May Belle leaned toward Shayna. “Honey, let me tell you something. This boy is the best catch around. And they come from all over to pass through my lane, so May Belle knows. You married?”

“No, ma’am,” Shayna squeaked.

“Then, sweetheart, look no farther. Look at him. As handsome as the day is long, sweeter than Mama’s homemade pudding, and he can coo—”

“May Belle, please. You’re embarrassing me.” Max was actually enjoying the attention, but May Belle was about to blow his cover.

“And modest, too. Don’t worry, sugar. I’ve said my piece.” She winked at Shayna, returning her attention to the groceries. “My, my, my, you got a lot of oranges.”

“No, no, Shayna. That’s not how you fold the egg mixture. That’s more of a chopping motion.” Max rushed to her side to take over.

She let him take the bowl from her. “I know, but the spatula hits right where I burned myself, and that makes it difficult to…”

“It’s okay, I understand. Why don’t you grate the…Actually, why don’t you sit over there and have a break?”

Shayna slunk over to a chair. “I’m not usually like this, Max. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I came over here to help you, and I’m just making a mess of everything.”

Max looked over his shoulder at her as he gently folded the eggs into the chocolate like an old pro. “You’re doing fine. We all have days like this.”

She watched his effortless motions. “You sure seem to be catching on quick.”

“You’re a good teacher.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, right. So far I’ve taught you how to burn yourself preheating an oven, ruin batter by dropping hundreds of microscopic eggshells into it, and now you’re afraid to let me grate the chocolate because you’re thinking I’ll scrape off what’s left of my fingernails.”

Shayna watched glumly as Max carried out the remaining steps of the recipe. Once again he was gliding through life as smooth as silk while she bumped over polyester naps. How could this be?

He could stroll through the store without being distracted by bags of chocolate-chip cookies or almond candy bars. She had to keep both eyes on a list or she’d be overwhelmed by temptation.

How nice it must be to buy things just because you want them. To leave at a moment’s notice and arrive without warning. Max, for all his casual disorder and spontaneous chaos, seemed so…free.

Shayna experienced a fleeting moment of envy.

No, she scolded herself. These last few days had proven that when she left one thread unbound, the entire fabric of her life began to unravel.

She sat in Max’s kitchen a frazzled wreck because she’d allowed herself to get off schedule—damn that alarm clock. Veering off her routine left her flustered and disoriented. That must explain her clumsiness. High school all over again.

This is what it was like to be out of control—like a derailed train, plowing into oblivion.

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