I’m staring mostly ahead, looking at the liquor selection behind the bar, wondering why the same bottles are always full - always unopened- in every bar I’ve ever been in. But they’re still there.She’s asking me a lot, my guess is because spending some time on my situation takes her mind away from hers. My answers are rote. No I’m not from around here. I’m forty-eight. Yes I’m married. Yes we have kids. No she’s not on this trip with me. No I haven’t talked to her yet today. No I don’t love her. Yes I love someone else. Yes, that someone else is married, too.That last one seemed to amuse her.“If I was going to cheat with someone else, I’d at least make sure they was available,” she says with a laugh, then asks me if I smoke. I don’t. She fidgets and looks at the liquor bottles, trying to figure out what I’m looking at.“So, what’s in it for you?” Her eyes drift across the bottles. She tries to make a guy voice, answering her own question: “Sex.”I laugh, not so much at the answer but. ’ I waited for her outside the checkouts and she emerged pushing her trolley. She smiled when she saw me and came over. We pushed our trolleys the short distance to the coffee shop. She stayed with them while I ordered. I noticed her checking out the contents in my trolley. ‘I can’t work you out, some of the items you have are bulk while others are in small quantities.’ ‘That’s easy to explain, I live alone and I usually cook up large batches of some things and freeze the left-overs for later consumption while other things are best eaten fresh because they don’t freeze well.’ I noticed that she had largish quantities of most things. She saw me checking out her trolley. ‘I’m in a different situation. I’m a full time carer for my parents. When they got too old and too frail to look after themselves properly, my brothers decided that I, because I had recently lost my partner, should look after them in the family home rather than send them off to a retirement home. They promised to help.
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