Cleanup on Aisle Three
CJ/Danny
Rating Middle School –
Spoilers through end of series
Not mine, never were, never will be, but they consume my soul
Feedback and criticism welcomed
Note: I've been working away on my next chapter of "Fold in Gently", but this little vignette pushed its way to the top of the list. It is something that occurred in "offstage" in "Blue Cross" (chapter 52 of "Holding Hands on the Way Down") the morning of the day that Danny came home from New York one day early. I hope you enjoy it.
Mid-March 2012; Sav-On Drugs, Santa Monica, CA
CJ was mortified. She had been on her mobile with Bonnie, discussing a particularly annoying delay on one of the roads in Eritrea, when she lost control of her shopping cart and had upset the huge display at the end of the row in the pharmacy. The announcement came over the loudspeaker.
"Cleanup on aisle three. No liquids."
CJ estimated that she had knocked down at least two hundred packages of sanitary panty liners. She noted that the price was a real bargain. However, she had bought some just two weeks ago; the package was sitting in her bathroom vanity drawer.
Untouched eight days after it should have been opened.
Danny hadn't asked, not when he called from Rome right before his audience with the Pope, not on any of the daily calls since then. And she did not want to jinx it, so she didn't volunteer the news (or was it lack of news?)
Store personnel, two boys probably just out of high school, came to the scene, and she apologized for making a mess. She felt even sorrier when, seeing what had been upset, the kids blushed to their hairlines.
CJ pushed her cart fifteen feet up the aisle and started looking for the brand Scott's nurse had recommended when CJ had called the office earlier this morning. What idiot of a manager, CJ wondered, decided that putting menstrual supplies and pregnancy testing kits next to each other was good product placement? In this day and age, buyers of the former could very well be desperately envying the women buying the latter. And at least some of those who were buying the kits were in all likelihood praying to God that soon they would be buying the panty protection.
There was a little stand-up display for one of the tests, not the one Dr. Winkler's office preferred. It showed a woman smiling at her (presumed, though in this day and age, one never knew) husband and saying, "Honey, I have a wonderful surprise." CJ wondered, again, in this day and age, how likely was that to happen. Most of the couples she knew were either actively trying to have a child, or just as actively trying NOT to have a child. Ginger was the only one who said "Rick and I never invested in a goalie, so to speak. We're just letting nature and fate takes its course."
And as far as it being a surprise, well, she supposed that there were some men out there who were not aware of their wives' cycles, of mood swings, changes in libido. But none of them were married to the women of her acquaintance – the old Bartlet gang and the women of their block here in Santa Monica. Had Danny not been in Europe and on the other side of the country for the past three weeks, he would be as aware as she was of the possibility.
"Pete, Joe, when you finish the cleanup on three, there's some broken glass in cold medicines."
The loudspeaker brought CJ out of her daydreaming. The pile of boxes was not the only thing on aisle three that needed to be cleaned up; she needed to get the cobweb of thoughts out of her mind. There was the party at Nancy's parents' place in Malibu this afternoon and Danny was coming home tomorrow. Enough of this wool-gathering.
CJ put the test kit in her cart. Should she use it as soon as she got home? No, she and Danny had been through this trying, waiting, hoping, and disappointment together for the past year. They would go through (please, God) elation or disappointment in two days, but they would do it together.