The Perfect Holiday

I couldn’t tell you the last time I’d pushed a shopping cart around a grocery store. I ate in the mess hall when I was on base. I ate rations in the field and fast food when I could get it. I never shopped for groceries because I didn’t cook. Hell, I didn’t even buy beer or liquor from a store. I had witnessed what booze did to my old man. I’d never touched a drop of the stuff and I never would. When I was carousing the bars with my pals I drank Coke or Ginger Ale. My SEAL buddies never failed to give me a ton of shit for it, but I was usually the sober one leaving with the best-looking woman at the end of the night.

The Navy had spoiled me to my own detriment. I hadn’t had to fend a meal for myself in years and the contents of my buggy proved that fact. Since I had no clue what to buy, I decided a good strategy would be to fill up the buggy with the crap I recognized that I used to eat as a kid.

So far, I had four boxes of Pop Tarts (one cherry, one strawberry, and two brown sugar cinnamon), three giant bags of chips (Ruffles, barbecue, and sour cream and onion), a stick of bologna and a pack of hot dogs, a box of crackers and a loaf of bread, a bottle of ketchup, and three 64-ounce bottles of Mountain Dew and one Coke. I also had two boxes of Lucky Charms and a gallon of whole milk, and six microwave burritos that had a picture of a jackass wearing a sombrero on the side. I hoped that wasn’t indicative of how they would taste.

I was standing in the produce department wondering how you could tell if a watermelon was ripe when I saw her. A pretty blonde with big hair and big tits and a big smile, all of it heading my way. I tried to place her. When I glanced into her eyes her name came to me, as did the memory of her lips on my cock and the feel of her round ass cheeks in my hands. It was Juju. Juju Wheeler. The girl who cost me Annabel Lee. No, that’s bullshit. What Juju and I did was my choice. It was my fault. I couldn’t lay one ounce of blame on her, no matter how hard I had tried over the years.

“Oh my god,” she squealed as she rolled her buggy up next to mine. “Shane Mavic? Is that you?”

“It’s me,” I said, feeling my face flush for some reason. She had her arms out, wiggling her fingers at me.

“Well give me a hug,” she said, her Texas twang in full bloom. I leaned down so she could hug my neck. I put my hands on her waist rather than around it. She pulled back and held my face between her hands. “I swear to the good lord above, it is so good to see you. How long has it been?”

“Eleven years,” I said with a nod. I resisted the urge to spell it out in the precise number of days, minutes, and seconds. “How are you?”

“Well, I’m just as fine as I can be,” she said, taking a step back and looking me up and down. “Look at you. All grown up. And, oh my lord, would you look at those muscles?” She gave my right bicep a squeeze. “Hard as a rock is what you are.”

“Well…” I didn’t quite know what to say. I hadn’t spoken to Juju since the night Annabel caught her blowing me in the back of my mom’s car. I saw her at school after that, but always managed to avoid talking to her. It was probably a shit move on my part, but I was trying to convince Annabel to take me back and I knew associating with Juju wasn’t going to help matters. I wrapped my fingers around the handle of the buggy and mustered a smile.

“Well, when did you get home?” she asked, still smiling.

“Yesterday.”

“You home for good?” Her eyes sparkled with promise. Time had been good to her. She was still beautiful, buxom, shapely, with plump lips and eyes that glistened in the bright store light. She was wearing a red pants suit and more jewelry than King Tut. She looked like she was doing well for herself. Or had married a guy who took good care of her.

“No, just a few days,” I said. “My mother passed, so I’m here to get her house cleaned up and on the market, then I’ll be gone.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” she said, poking out her lower lip like a pouty kid. “Where are you living now?”

“All over. I’m currently stationed in Iraq.”

“Iraq?” She said it like eye rock. “Lord, why would you wanna go there?”

I decided not to show off the tattoo on my bicep. “I’m in the Navy.”

“Oh, a Navy man,” she said, smiling, giving me a wink. “Well, look at you.”

“Yeah, look at me.” I took a deep breath and blew out as I pretended to look at my watch. “Wow, I didn’t realize the time. I have to get to my uncle’s house for dinner.”

“Wait, before you go,” she said, holding up a finger. “Let me give you something.” Her purse was in the child’s seat of the buggy. She opened it and quickly came out with a business card. She handed it to me and waited for me to read it.

“You’re a real estate agent,” I said.

“I’m the number one ReMax agent in town,” she said proudly. I didn’t ask if she was the only ReMax agent in town. That would have been rude even for me. “I’d love to come by and take a look at your mama’s house. I bet I can get it sold for you lickety-split.”

“It’s in pretty rough shape,” I said.

“Well, that’s not a problem,” she said, swiping a hand at me. “I can just take a look and let you know the best way to sell it fast. Either as a fixer upper or a flip or maybe even a tear down.”

“A tear down?”

“Yes,” she said, eyeing me pitifully, like she was breaking bad news to a little kid. “The new owner would basically buy the land and tear it down to put up something else.”

“I see.”

“So, how about this weekend? I can swing by Saturday afternoon if that’s all right with you.”

“Uh, okay, that would be good,” I said, still holding up the card. “You know where it is?”