Mary had a Little Lamb
Based of Roald Dahl's short story Lamb to the Slaughter from Sam's perspective.
Not six o'clock yet, Sam thought, glancing up at the clock. The last rays of golden sun casted soft shadows on the tile floor. Noonan and O'Malley would still be on duty. There were no customers in his grocery he could converse with in the meanwhile. He entertained himself with the thought of closing time and sitting up front of the crackling fireplace with a steaming cup of split pea soup.
He snapped out of his daydream when Mrs. Maloney entered the store with a cheerful smile. "Hullo Sam," Mrs. Maloney said brightly.
Mrs. Maloney was in good spirits as usual. A regular customer of his. A lady like Mrs. Maloney would surely bring something worth discussing. Then it came to him that there was nothing new and topical to talk about, only regular reports of a lover's tryst that were neither clear nor descript, something he could do without. There were other things that irritated him as well, like how Mr. Maloney had that far look in his eyes and never makes eye contact with him, and that Noonan's naivety leads to him to be taken advantage of. He was sure he doesn't see her on Thursday nights though.
"Why, good evening, Mrs. Maloney," he replied. "How're you?"
"I want some potatoes please, Sam. Yes, and I think a can of peas." He turned and reached up behind him on the shelf for the peas.
"Patrick's decided he's tired and doesn't want to eat out tonight," she told him with a sigh. "We usually go out Thursdays, you know, and now he's caught me without any vegetables in the house."
Mr. Maloney was a police officer, a principled man with a respectable career. How was he doing? Sam could ask but time sure has passed, hasn't it? He never did see much of him really. He was a man of few words and when he did, he spoke in short sharp sentences, giving the impression that he didn't want to talk to anybody. He was blessed to have Mrs. Maloney as his beloved wife, who made up for his wordless demeanour. She was a reliable and obedient women who loved him dearly. She never failed making dinner for him every night, except Thursdays of course. Today, he suppose, was different. Today felt different in general.
"Then how about meat, Mrs. Maloney?"
"No, I've got meat, thanks. I got a nice leg of lamb from the freezer."
"Oh."
Did Mrs. Maloney flinch? She looked a bit uncomfortable for a moment. Maybe Sam sounded too disappointed and pushed her too far, he does that sometimes. He was hoping Mrs. Maloney would buy some meat anyways. Some beef perhaps for later. She could make a beef and corn casserole, or Swedish meatballs.
"I don't much like cooking it frozen, Sam, but I'm taking a chance on it this time. You think it'll be all right?" She looked at him expectantly.
Would it be alright? He knew cooking steak straight from the freezer was better than defrosting it beforehand. Tasted better in half the time. Would it apply to lamb as well? It would most definitely take longer but what about flavour? Maybe Noonan would know, or his wife. He was no food critic or chef. He wished at that moment he was, a professional in food preparation, then he would know for sure.
How strange. Most of the time he was happy living as a simple grocer and not something of a grander sense. That day he threw absolutely everything away and set off. Reality and his own dream did not intersect. Frustrated over not knowing what he could and couldn't do, he had become scattered. He had lost his direction and simply threw away the spoiled fruit of his labour.
He guessed it didn't matter though, from his experience with frozen produce.
"Personally," he said, "I don't believe it makes any difference. You want these Idaho potatoes?"
"Oh yes, that'll be fine. Two of those."
"Anything else?" The grocer cocked his head on one side, looking at her pleasantly. "How about afterwards? What you going to give him for afterwards?"
"Well – what would you suggest, Sam?"
Sam glanced around his shop. There was devil's cream cake, grape jelly, peppermint pie, buttermilk biscuits and other things. It was in times like these that reminded him that these days held nothing but peace and prosperity. After the war ended, his customers came back and he had more goods to offer than just canned tomato soup and frozen chicken pie. He was just glad that he didn't have to work his butt off anymore just so he could get his next stock of sliced bacon for the following weeks. "How about a nice big slice of cheesecake? I know he likes that."
It had become an innocent game of sorts to remember what his customers bought on a regular basis. He would gaze on as his customers would shuffle about collecting goods and filling their baskets, muttering things under their breath. O'Malley would scoff at him every time Sam gave him his regular Pillsbury Cinnamon roll over the counter with no words exchanged. He knew well that Mr. Maloney was a fan of cheesecake. Now, should it be strawberry, key lime or toffee? He wasn't sure if Mr. Maloney liked toffee. Maybe Mr. Maloney was more of a chestnut kind of guy… Ah, how he wished he knew. He decided to opt for strawberry, it'd help a solemn soul like him.
"Perfect," she said. "He loves it."
And when it was all wrapped and she had paid, she smiled brightly and said, "Thank you Sam. Goodnight."
It was nearly six o'clock. He would be able to close up shop soon and go home for the night. Mrs. Maloney would go home and make dinner for her husband like always, the star attraction being a frozen leg of lamb instead of fresh beef. He didn't feel like taking a cab tonight, it was still bright enough to take a bike ride through the park before setting for home. He smiled back at Mrs. Maloney and waved.
"Goodnight, Mrs. Maloney. And thank you."