Inside Walmart

Walking through the sliding doors, Tabitha took off her sunglasses, letting both the shoppers and employees see her eyes. Making eye contact with her? Most of the people inside avoided that as much as possible. There was a terse, tense feel behind her eyes. It made you feel awkward. And if she may glance in your direction and smile at you? If that happened, it would take all day to wash away the greasy uneasy feeling.  

Jenny pushed the cart with a few essentials through the produce department. Sally sat in the front of the cart, her feet kicking Jenny as she pushed the buggy. Her older brother, Jonathan, was walking close to the cart, sometimes holding Jenny’s hand but most of the time touching or grabbing the side of the shopping cart. Savanah’s eyes were glazed over, in a sleepy daze, having woken up from her short nap in the minivan. Jenny made a small pallet in the bottom of the cart, hoping the toddler wouldn’t wake up, surprised that her baby, Sally, was wide awake. Sally was the one who slept through most everything, including grocery shopping.

Jenny blinked a few times herself, more tired than the three kids. Her boyfriend, Daryl, worked overnight shifts at the local factory, coming home a little before 6 A.M. and drinking his favorite beer until almost 9 A.M. He wasn’t an alcoholic, Sally would claim, saying he needed a few to relax after being keyed up all night. Whether or not that was true didn’t matter. What did matter was that she had the Pabst Blue Ribbon on ice, ready for him to walk through the door. If they were out of PBR, she was the one who had to go to the store to get more. Daryl didn’t have a driver’s license, relying on his friends to cart him to and from work. Jenny had her driver’s license and refused to give him the keys or let him drive with the kids. Sober or not, she didn’t care. His third DUI scared her enough to force the subject and enforce the ultimatum.

The little family was dirty, not for lack of clean clothes. Even taking multiple trips to the laundry mat didn’t help. Jenny didn’t know how to do laundry, not realizing that you have separate colors, buy clothing with colors that don’t bleed, and not wash whites and colors together. Add to that the trailer they lived in was on a dusty road, not gravel but dry, sandy dirt. Couple that dirt with three kids under five. And an alcoholic boyfriend? Now you can imagine what it was like for Jenny. She was tired, the exhaustion showing through the bags under her eyes. The last thing she was in the mood for was Tabitha, the haughty older woman who never had or wanted kids.

Tabitha knew that Jenny’s oldest, Jonathan, was starting school in the fall, so she wanted to ensure she was on her side. Most of Tabitha’s trips to Walmart weren’t shopping trips. Tabitha went on reconnaissance missions, gathering and giving propaganda to anyone and everyone willing to listen. Most did. But a few were prickly to her. But Tabitha put her best face forward, talking badly about the prickly people to Marcus. No one else knew she said unkind words, but the figured it was happened. No one looks like that and doesn’t have unkind words to speak about other people. Tabitha saw her mark and aimed her empty cart in Jenny’s direction.

Jonathan was bugging Jenny. “Momma, can we get Pringles?” In the Whitlock family, Pringles were a special treat, a luxury item, even at Walmart’s prices.

“Baby, I want to, but your sister needs diapers and formula. Maybe next time, okay kiddo?” Jenny hated saying that they needed to save their money. Their Oldsmobile Silhouette needed a little more than an oil change. Jenny’s older brother, Trevor, was a mechanic, but parts and oil cost money. He was more than willing to help her, but she needed to buy the ‘stuff’ to complete the repairs. He had a small family and struggled to make ends meet.

“Life in a small town, right Jen?” Trevor winked at her, turning a wrench on the engine he was working on, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. Laying the wrench on the pad covering the driver’s side quarter panel, his hands covered in oil, dirt, and grease, he walked over to her, hugging her, doing his best to keep his hands from touching her. Trevor and Jenny were close, getting together as often as they could. Cookouts were a part of their weekends when the weather was decent enough, and Daryl wasn’t exhausted from the factory or being a jerk. Trevor was a few years older than Jenny and did his best to watch out for and protect his baby sister. But he couldn’t stop her from falling in love with the wrong guy. Everyone in the small town knew he was bad news. But what can you do when your sibling claims the tool is her ‘one and only’?

“Ooh! Jenny! Jenny Whitlock! I see you, dear.” Tabitha waved at Jenny, carrying on and bordering on making a scene. “Jenny! I need to talk to you.” Jenny looked down at her son, grabbed the Pringles off the shelf, and tossed them in the cart, ruffling his hair. Jonathan smiled and giggled. “Thanks, Momma.” His smile wouldn’t pay the bills, but it was worth it. Jenny would remember his smile for years. A Momma never forgets. Jenny sighed, turned around and acknowledged Tabitha’s voice, waving back at her, smiling.

“Jenny, I’m so glad I ran into you today,” Tabitha touched her shoulder. She did that, trying to convince the person she was speaking with to side with her. All the townsfolk knew it, but they also knew Tabitha. Between her and her husband, they knew better than to mess with her. And if you had kids in the high school? You could be confident your child would be singled out for some kind of mishap, blamed for more than they really did. Even good kids got in trouble every once in a while. But if Tabitha was against you? It was more than just a little bit of trouble. Count on it. “Jenny, have you heard about this young girl? Oh, what’s her name?” Tabitha tried to make it look good, convincing her and Jenny that she didn’t remember the piercing girl’s name. “Ashley? Angel? Amber?”

“Amber?” Jenny asked. “Amber’s watched the kids for me a couple of times. She’s a sweet girl. What’s the problem with her exactly?” Jonathan pinched Jenny’s loose-fitting jeans, causing her to step away from her son and closer to Tabitha. Now, Tabitha was close enough to smell the Doublemint gum on her breath.

“So, you haven’t heard?” Tabitha’s eyes widened. She was playing up her shock and dismay, turning on the acting skills she learned performing in one high school play, Our Town by Thornton Wilder. Tabitha performed the same shock and dismay she did on stage as Mrs. Gibbs. Anyone who lived through her terrible acting never spoke of it. And if they saw her today? They would say it was just as bad. Jenny wasn’t paying attention to Tabitha much, the baby fussing, Jonathan still tugging on her, and Sally kicking and laughing at her Momma.

“Heard what, Tabitha?” Jonathan was pressing another bag of chips, Ruffles with ridges, saying, “Momma. Momma. Momma. Can we get these?”

“No, Jonathan. Sally? Please stop kicking.” Sally giggled at Momma, kicking harder.

“Well, that Amber girl,” Tabitha winked at Jenny, “did something terrible! She has an eyebrow piercing! Can you believe it?”

Jenny’s patience was paper thin, her kids on her last few nerves, Tabitha and her gossip not helping. “An eyebrow piercing? You want to talk about an eyebrow piercing, Tabitha? She’ll be out of school in less than a month.” Jonathan was hitting her with the bag of Ruffles now. “Jonathan Michael! Enough! Put the chips back, now.” Jenny’s mom’s voice didn’t surprise anyone in Walmart – except other kids acting out. “Sally! Stop it!” Sally’s face drooped, her bottom lip stuck out, eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Tabitha. This may be important to you, but I must get these guys home. Sally needs a nap. And Jonathan and Savanah want to play. They need to eat lunch, and so do I.” She gave Tabitha a quick, friendly hug. “I’m really sorry.” Grabbing Jonathan’s hand, she proceeded down the chip aisle, moving as fast as she could away from Tabitha.

“Make sure to come to the school board meeting next week! Jenny?” Jenny waved back, letting Tabitha know that she heard her. Tabitha walked in the opposite direction, looking for her next target, Mrs. Molly Brown, a 3^rd grade history teacher at the Elementary School.