Smile
Basket rhythmically knocking against my leg, I meandered from the picked-over butcher display to the frozen dinner aisle. A sad plastic packaged steak had slid to the corner in the basket and my mouth watered a little as I thought about the searing it would have on it soon enough. It had been a typical Tuesday of mindless work, followed by a hard gym session that was the only time I’d feel alive during that day, and now I had grabbed a mediocre steak and was heading to get some rice and vegetable medley that I could pop in the microwave - one that was preferably on sale.
It wasn’t too late in the evening but there did seem to be fewer people inside than usual. An elderly man was half an isle down from me, I could see him through the open freezer door he was clutching. His other hand was supporting him as he leaned in to look at something.
Packages of whole-grain medleys were neatly organized behind the glass in front of me. A stick figure was climbing a mountain on one, promising gains. I figured it would be better than nothing and grabbed the handle to open the door with a yank; it stuck, and I grumbled to myself. The old man didn’t even look up, still trying to make a decision as I yanked a few more times. With a humiliated sigh, I squared, put both hands on the handle, and jerked.
Almost stumbling back, the cold air rushed out, but the usual condensation cloud thickened into a blinding cloud that enveloped me. It was so thick I couldn’t see inside the freezer or down the aisle. Disoriented, I waved it away hastily, darting through it to retrieve the innocent frozen food package I had come for. I only wanted to get my food and go home to my very busy life of comfort-watching reruns for comfort and triple-checking the deadbolt.
The relief that had initially flooded through me as I shut the door was instantly drained when I realized the old man had stopped and was now staring at me. The smile on his face spread from ear to ear, his eyes thin slits behind his wire glasses and encouraging cheeks. His hand that was steadying him moments ago lifted in a limp wave.
The sudden twitch of his arm made me jump. I smiled back at him, a nervous gesture lacking any warmth, and turned my feet towards the checkout lines, ready to leave that situation behind.
Before turning the corner to the self-checkout lanes, I looked back. The old man had followed. Standing perfectly still and too straight - like moments ago he had required support to look into the freezers and now his body showed no physical weariness apart from the wrinkles across his skin. He was the same distance as before; the same Cheshire smile distorting his face.
I made quick eye contact with someone down the second aisle over and nearly gasped, the grip on my basket momentarily coming undone and my hands quickly reacting to catch the handles seconds before it hit the ground. I left my eyes glued to the fading red plastic, panting, shaking slightly, trying to get a grip on myself.
There was mold on the meat. How had I missed that before? I peaked up at the other person’s shoes. They were now facing towards me. With a deep breath, I pivoted back to the deli section. I fought the scream that leapt into my throat when I turned around and the old man was now feet behind me, smiling.
Fuck the meat, I thought and turned towards the self-checkout, tempted to leave everything. Now the woman I had made eye contact with was now closer down the aisle towards me, smiling as well. What the fuck joke is this. These had to be employees right, intent on making a scare of a customer. It was probably a PR stunt and the whole thing was being recorded. One of those ‘what would you do’ segments.
Urging my tired feet towards the self-checkouts, the lights began to flicker and my patience for this charade was running out. There were a few other people in the store with their backs towards me, but anyone I made eye contact with quickly had the Cheshire smile spread across their face, their eyes narrowing, their lips curling like someone was pulling them up with fishing line, the hooks tearing into heir flesh so there was no stopping the insanity from spreading across their face. Someone turned and saw the smiling mass, followed their gaze and met mine, transforming their everyday, chronic RBF into one of mindless smiles and slanted eyes.
I emptied the basket by the first self check out and made the mistake of looking outside. Catching someone's gaze in the parking lot through the big glass windows in the front of the store; it only took moments for it to travel and for everyone outside to start milling towards the small front doors, smiling at me. I turned around, unsure of where to go, ready for the joke to be over, frustration and fear competing for growth in my belly.
They were surrounding me, their smiles anything but genuine. I wanted to yell at them to say something, to stop this game, but something seized my throat and nothing was coming out of my gaping mouth. I just wanted to get my food and go home.
It had to be the freezer door. My brain, fully panicked by their proximity, began offering feeble solutions.
I threw the basket at the people, at their smiles, at the laughter I could hear somewhere in the recesses of my mind that covered the voice of reason that was pleading for it to be a prank. I ran to the section where the small stick figure was conquering his mountain, returning to the spot where it all changed, begging for it to be reversed. I open and slammed the door over and over and over again until the glass exploded. The smiling mass of people quickly closed in on both sides of the aisle. Their footsteps were slow and quiet as they descended, the soft wrestling of their clothes as they closed in on each other almost made me wretch.
I ran up and down, opening and slamming the doors until the glass burst from them, the shards shredding my arms. The shimmering glass and the sound of their shattering covered the scream that eventually escaped from my lips as I realized they were all mere feet from me now. The last thing I remember is their smiling faces pressing into mine, their faces pressing impossible tight against my skull. The pressure kept building even as I struggled to get away from them. My fingers only felt lips and teeth as I shoved, my shoes meeting fabric and flesh but making no ground. And then there was nothing.
