I spin around to find Craig hovering, mere inches behind me. “Light,” he repeats.
I nod, still not firing on all cylinders, reach forward and flip the switch for my lane light on. The customer begins counting his change on the conveyor belt with pennies, nickels, and a few quarters.
“Smile. We want our guests to feel welcome here at Star Mart,” Craig says through a phony customer service smile. He’s never pleasant unless someone who doesn’t work here is watching. His face is too close to mine. How does his breath already reek of tuna? My afternoon shift has just started!
Eventually, Craig shuffles off to creep someone else out, and I’m able to return to my job. Sorting the money into the register, I place the man’s items into a paper bag, then flip my light off, again.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I whisper to Mairead, who is now thumbing through one of the magazines from the rack in her lane.
“Got it,” she replies with a thumbs up.
I sweep the confounded box with purple insides into my front apron and quickly make my way to the facilities.
Once I’m inside the women’s bathroom, I check underneath each stall, making sure I’m alone. Turning the lock, I rest my back against the closed door. My breaths are shaky and I’m questioning what I’m doing here in the first place. I attempt to slow my breathing, in through my nose till my lungs ache from the sheer amount of oxygen in them, before blowing out a smooth, unrushed stream. I repeat this process three times, despite the unpleasant scent of bleach.
The lighting in here has never been kind, but I look more like one of those female leads in a slasher movie who barely escapedalive. Really, Cindel? Get a hold of yourself. I splash some cool water onto my hot, flushed skin. Then pull out a few paper towels from the dispenser to dab the drips from my reddened face. It’s probably just a coincidence, I tell myself.
Reaching into the pocket of my apron, I retrieve the black box. Holding it in my hand, I slowly remove the lid, as if something is going to jump out at me. I set the lid on the edge of the sink and allow a finger to slide in past the tissue paper, until I can feel what’s inside I close my eyes and pull out the small device. I count down, “3…2…1…” before I force open my eyes.
An earbud sits in my hand, and there, on the stem is the same purple star I drew just this morning. How?! This can’t be the same one. It’s in my bedroom… on the charger.
Is this a joke? Oh my god! Did someone break into our apartment? My mind races through possible scenarios and explanations on how this thing has sprouted legs. Is someone watching me? Following me?
I feel… unwell. I push into one of the stalls, under the impression that I’m about to lose my sticky flapjacks when I hear something. It could be distant, or perhaps close, but very soft. Do my aids need to be recalibrated?
I stare at the impossible item in my hand, suddenly realizing that the source of sound is its tiny speaker. I hold it closer to my ear.
“Stop!” the tiny device commands. The once ill feeling turns into dread. Should I drop this damned thing into the toilet and flush it? It definitely can’t find its way back to me then. But this doesn’t explain how it showed up at my job, instead of staying put where I left it. This whole situation is nuts.
The earbud is still making noise. Despite myself, I remove the dome from my ear, letting the receiver wire dangle while I slip the curious tech into my ear. Maybe I’ve finally cracked?
I hold my breath, both nervous about what I may hear and tired of the unpleasant bathroom smell. I… I can hear it. I can hear it? The only way that could happen is if the device was calibrated for my ears, meaning someone would have to manually input an audiogram result, based on me. And yet, I can hear the music loud and clear.
Without meaning to, I take a deep breath in, feeling like I might once again lose my stomach contents because I can taste Lysol in my mouth.
Pixies-“Where is my Mind?”Plays through the disturbing device. What am I doing?! Take it out of your ear and drop it!
I used to like this song, but I have a feeling I won’t want to hear it again after today. Flush it down the toilet. Flush it! My inner voice of reasoning repeats.
The song continues playing as I internally battle between rational thought and my uncanny ability to be recklessly curious. What good has being inquisitive ever done for me? Where is your mind, Cindel?!
The eerily disoriented ooooo’s in the song make me feel as if I’m floating above my body. Watching this situation unfold without the ability to choose. Goosebumps break out along my arms. Just as the song fades, I feel myself slipping back into control. I yank the earbud from my ear, like it has the ability to poison me if it stays a second longer; it falls into the toilet. The water ripples as it sinks to the bottom and I don’t hesitate; I flush the fucking thing. I pick up the wrappings from the floor and sink area before tossing them in the trash can.
After washing my hands, I attempt to smooth down my hair before making my way back onto the floor. I’d like to think this will be the end of it, but from my past experiences, nothing is ever that easy.
Mairead appears worried when I return. How long was I even gone? “Craig came looking for you. I told him your pussy was bleeding.”
I slap my hand over my mouth before a wild sound comes out. “You did not!” I jeered.
She shrugs and goes back to flipping through a different tabloid, as I return to my lane. I didn’t tell her why I was in the ladies’ room so long, the very idea sounds insane, even to me. She could apparently tell that something is off and suggested I go home, but I need the money. Plus, being here vs. my apartment wouldn’t make much of a difference. I had a feeling that whatever just happened would follow me.
The rest of the day goes by painfully slow. Mairead talks a lot, mostly about shopping, her favorite restaurants, and about some places she’s traveled to in the past. I haven’t so much as ventured off the east coast, only going as far as Florida once to visit a beach. She’s been to other continents. Maybe her family is loaded?
I try to focus on present tasks, pushing thoughts about invasions of privacy and robbery from my mind. I half pay attention to my pleasant colleague between bouts of customers. Giving her responses like, “Oh, I didn’t know that” or “That sounds wonderful.”
I am being a shitty person, that’s the only way to put it, but my mind is running rampant trying to make sense of why the earbud is appearing in places it shouldn’t be.
Mairead changes into an adorable sundress after we clock out together. Then we make our way out into the chilly evening.
