Bentley Little - The Store

For the first time, he looked at her full on, and she saw nothing in his eyes, no sadness, no remorse, no regret. "I don't want to date someone who doesn't work for The Store," he said.

"I can get a job there. I can --"

"No."

She realized that she sounded desperate, but she couldn't help it. "I love you," she repeated.

He shook his head. "I'm afraid we have to stop seeing each other."

She wanted to remind him of everything they'd been through together, everything they'd done. They'd made out on this very trail, a half mile back.

They'd gone to Winter Formal together, made love afterward. They'd eaten the same ice cream cone -- he licking one side, she the other. They'd done everything couples were supposed to do. They'd even almost had a child together.

Didn't any of that mean anything to him?

She wanted to say all that and more, but she could tell from the flat look in his eyes, the neutral expression on his face, that it would not get her anywhere. She would not be able to appeal to him on any sort of emotional level.

He did not care.

For him, the relationship was already over.

She closed her eyes, trying not to cry. Why had he gone hiking with her?

Why hadn't he told her at the outset that it was over? Why had he waited until they were out here in the middle of nowhere before springing this on her?

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Fuck you!" she screamed.

She'd intended only to nod, to be dignified and pretend as though he meant nothing to her and this was no big deal.

But she'd loved him.

"Fuck you!"

He shrugged. "We'd better go back."

"I wouldn't walk back with you if you were the last person on earth! Go to hell, you son of a bitch! Walk back by yourself!"

"If that's the way you want it."

Through her tears, she watched him walk away, up the trail. Again, she thought of the _The Sound of Music_, when Rolf turns in the family at the end, betraying his love for the sake of the Party.

It was like Jake and The Store.

"Nazi!" she screamed. "You fucking Nazi!"

The echo of her cries sounded throughout the canyon.

But Jake did not turn around.

2

Saturday. Samantha's first day of work.

Ginny awoke early to make Sam a special breakfast -- her favorite Spanish omelette -- but her daughter only picked at the food.

"This isn't a Shannon situation, is it?" Ginny teased. "You're not turning anorexic on us, are you?"

Samantha gave a perfunctory smile. "No, Mom." She made a big show of eating a few more bites of her omelette, but when she thought her mother was no longer watching, she put the fork down.

Ginny frowned, Three weeks ago, Sam had been ecstatic about the thought of getting a job at The Store, visibly excited by the prospect. But ever since her first interview, she'd seemed . . . different. Definitely not enthusiastic. For the past week, since she'd begun taking her nightly training classes, she'd seemed downright withdrawn.

It was as though working at The Store was something she was doing out of obligation, something to which she'd committed but had subsequently changed her mind about.

Ginny wanted to tell her daughter that she didn't have to go through with it if she didn't want to, she could get a job somewhere else.

But she said nothing.

"I have to get ready," Samantha said. "I can't be late on my first day."

She pushed her chair away from the counter and walked into her bedroom to change into her uniform.

A few hours later, Ginny drove to The Store.

She went alone, not telling anyone, intending only to sneak a peek at her daughter. It was better this way. Bill, if he came along, would make a scene.

Shannon would intentionally try to embarrass her sister. It would probably embarrass Sam to see her there, anyway, but it was her first daughter's first day at her first job, and she wanted to be there.

The funny thing was, Sam was the only person within their circle who'd actually gotten a job at The Store. Frieda Lindsborg had applied for a sales clerk position in Women's Clothing and Sondra Kelly's husband, Dar, had applied for a job in the Hardware department, but neither of them had been hired.

Instead, Bob Franklin, who'd been a drunk and a bum and hadn't even been able to hold a trash-collecting job with his brother-in-law's company, had been hired as a "director," one of the employees who "directed" customers to the correct aisle when they were looking for a particular item. Ed Brooks, who wasn't much better, had been hired as a stock clerk. She'd seen both of those two in The Store, and she had to admit they looked cleaned up and competent, but she couldn't figure out why they'd been hired over Dar or Frieda or the other deserving applicants in town.

Which made her feel uneasy about Sam.

Ginny parked the car and walked into The Store. There was something smarmy about the young man who greeted her at the door and offered her a shopping cart, and as she walked through the building, several of the clerks and "directors" seemed equally off-putting to her. As she pushed the cart past Housewares, a uniformed clerk appeared at her side and asked if she needed any assistance. She said no, pushed on, and another clerk accosted her at Women's Shoes, offering to help her pick out footwear. She said that she was not shopping for shoes today.

She'd never liked salespeople, had always felt uncomfortable in stores where employees hovered around her, watching her every move. She liked to be left alone, to shop in peace. The Store had done that originally, but now it seemed that the pressure was being increased, that more time and energy were being expended spying on customers.

She didn't like that.

She thought of the convoy of black trucks she'd seen driving up to Juniper that night back in February. She'd never mentioned it to Bill, and she wasn't sure why. She hadn't forgotten about it -- in fact, each time she'd gone to The Store or heard The Store mentioned, it had immediately come to the forefront of her mind. Yet she'd shopped here, let Sam apply for a job here, pretended that nothing was wrong.

Was there anything wrong?

She wasn't sure, and perhaps that was why she'd kept quiet. It had been an eerie feeling she'd had that night, a vague sense of unease, but that could have been the circumstances -- the darkness, the solitude, the fact that the rest of her family had been asleep. Bill had been paranoid enough as it was at that time, and she hadn't wanted to contribute to his anti-Store obsession.

But he seemed to have gotten over all that, and now she wondered if that was healthy. There _was_ something odd about The Store, something "Ginny!"

She turned at the sound of the voice. Meg Silva stood in the aisle to her right, holding in her hands a bolt of sewing fabric.

Ginny put on her best fake smile. Meg was about the last person in the world she wanted to see right now, but she nodded at the other teacher, walked over and said hello. Meg subjected her to ten minutes' worth of complaints about everything from the kids in her class this year to the quality of whole cloth made in Thailand, but Ginny was finally able to extricate herself, claiming that she had to hurry up and finish shopping because Bill needed the car.

"Well," Meg said, "I guess I'll see you Monday, then."

Ginny smiled. "Unless I win the lottery."

"That goes for both of us."

Ginny waved good-bye and pushed the cart toward the Toddlers' department, where Sam was supposed to be working.

As she passed by Linen and Bedding, she overheard a couple talking in the next aisle over.

"They have layaway," the man was saying. "We can get that TV now _and_ the crib."

"I don't think it's a good idea to go into debt," the woman replied.

_You're right_, Ginny thought. But she said nothing, kept on walking.