Page 40 of Check Me Out

“It was a long trip to get here,” he finds himself explaining. “And I forgot to pack dental floss.”

“Journeying can be super stressful.”

Joe feels slightly weak-kneed over the empathy. “Yeah, it is. I appreciate that you’re open so I can pick up a few things.”

“I’m truly happy to help.” And Han seems to mean it.

Joe tosses the empty paper cups into a trash can that he hadn’t noticed before, grasps his shopping basket handle, and continues down the aisle and around the corner. The taste of the candy still lingers on his tongue and he decides it’s not as awful as he remembered. It makes him think about his baba’s vast purse, which always contained some of those candies along with a dizzying array of other items, including a gold-colored makeup compact with a mirror. Sometimes she’d ask him to hold it steady while she applied powder or lipstick, and he’d stare at her, wondering what it felt like to have wrinkled skin and bags under the eyes. He’d found her face beautiful and interesting.

God, he misses his baba! She wasn’t the type to spoil her grandchild, but she always listened to him as if what he had to say was important, even when he was very young. At fourteen, he’d been worried about coming out to her—she was old-school, old-world—but when he finally worked up the courage, she’d simply nodded. “Good. Someday you’ll find a nice boy and be happy together.”

“It doesn’t bother you that I’m gay?”

“Why should it bother me? You are my same Joey, no matter.” She’d pinched his cheek.

“But a lot of people think it’s wrong.”

Baba had waved a hand dismissively. “You become a thief, you hurt other people, these things are wrong. You lie to yourself about who you are, this is also wrong. But you like boys instead of girls? Eh. This is not wrong.”

In the supermarket aisle, his eyes grow slightly damp with the memory. Which reminds him that he needs Kleenex, and that he needs to continue on his quest.

The next three aisles contain the most astonishingly large collection of chocolate that he’s ever seen. He hadn’t been aware that so many varieties of chocolate existed, yet here they all are in their bright wrappers. He doesn’t put any of them in his basket, but he does pause in the next aisle, where there are bags and bags of potato chips. Some are familiar—such as barbecue, and sour cream and onion—but some are… really weird. “Hot chili squid?” he says out loud. “Haggis?”

“They’re pretty good.”

Joe turns his head and discovers that Han is standing nearby, arranging bags on the shelf. Again, it seems impossible that he’s there when he was handing out samples moments ago… except maybe Joe had dawdled over his recollections of his grandmother. “I’m not sure I’m brave enough for those,” he admits.

“Of course you are. But maybe right now you’d rather have something more familiar. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Han holds up a blue bag of salt and vinegar chips, and yes, that’s exactly what Joe wants.

“Those sound good.”

Han comes closer and sets the bag gently in Joe’s basket. It’s good to havesomethingin the basket; it means his trip hasn’t been wasted. “You can eat some now, if you like,” says Han. “We don’t mind.”

“I’ll wait,” Joe says, even though he craves the sour-salty crunch. Back in his hotel room, he’ll likely scarf the entire bag before falling asleep. In which case he should probably get something to wash it down. He tries to remember whether there’s a mini fridge in the room but can’t remember any details at all. It’s one of those comfortable but soulless corporate high rises, where every room has an identical floor plan, furniture, and bland art. He can’t recall his room number, but he’ll ask at the desk when he returns.

Han still stands there as if waiting, so Joe nods at him. “Don’t let me keep you from your work.”

“Youare my work.” Han makes a wry face. “Sorry. That sounded creepy. I’m a little awkward sometimes. All I mean is that customer service is my primary job, and it’s a job I love doing.”

It must be nice to love your job. Joe doesn’t hate his. It brings him a decent paycheck with good benefits, and he knows he’s lucky to have a white-collar gig instead of something physically grueling with shitty pay. But his boss is kind of a dick and it’s hard to get excited about project management. Sometimes he daydreams about quitting and becoming a photographer instead, but he knows he’ll never do that. It’s too uncertain.

Han disappears at some point during Joe’s musings, and although Joe doesn’t blame him, he feels a small pang. He liked Han’s company.

Man, jet lag is truly doing a number on him.

He passes through several aisles of household cleaning products, gardening supplies, and automobile needs such as oil and windshield sunshades. One aisle breaks the previous no-smell observation, reeking of rubber car tires. Do people really buy those at grocery stores? This is the best-supplied supermarket he’s been to, which must be handy for regular visitors. One-stop shopping and all. It’s annoying for him, however. He already feels as if he’s been here for hours.

At one point he thinks he’s finally found the dental floss, but somehow he ends up in a cul-de-sac filled with inexpensive toys and children’s books. He recognizes some of his old favorites and reaches for one that stars a Sesame Street character but, feeling silly, lets his hand fall. He doesn’t need kids’ books. In fact, nowadays he rarely touches books. He used to be a voracious reader, but somewhere along the way he’s given up the habit. Now he spends time poking at his phone instead. He promises that when he returns home from this trip, he’ll set aside some dedicated reading time each day.

Exiting the cul-de-sac, he finds his way back to one of the main drags and makes a small sound of triumph as he discovers the Kleenex. He glances around, almost expecting Han to appear, but there’s no sign of him. Joe peruses the colorful boxes and chooses one that claims to have soothing lotion. His head has been aching, although he wasn’t consciously aware of that until just now, and his back, legs, and stomach hurt too. Facial tissues won’t help any of those things, no matter how much lotion they contain, but he likes the idea ofsoothinganyway. He could use some of that. He tosses the box in next to the potato chips.

As he turns the next corner, he smells coffee and sees a small café set up in a clearing among the shelves. It’s not much, justa counter with a grill and a glass case full of rolls and bagels, and six round tables, each with a pair of dainty chairs. He’s disappointed to find it unattended; he could use some caffeine.

“Can I get you something?” Han steps out from behind a shelf. He’s added a white apron to his uniform.

“It’s okay. It’s closed.”

“No, it’s just waiting for someone who wants something. Can I fix you a burger, maybe? Or a crepe?”

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