The mop swooped in front of his feet. You're nobody 'til somebody loves you. He closed eyes for a moment and turned around. He glided the mop back and forth and opened his eyes. He swished it. Removing the little black marks that shoes left. He was by the produce aisle. His eyes fell on the cherry tomatoes in their little plastic containers. There was only two packages left on top of the display. Below were the normal tomatoes and avocados. He picked out a few tomatoes which had dark little spots. He walked over to the janitor's cart and put them in the little yellow trashcan attached. He went over to the refrigerated produce at the back corner of the produce section. He looked at the items. Searching for yesterday's date. He found two bags of brussel sprouts. They didn't look like they had gone but the date had come and went. Arnold always felt bad about throwing out food that looked perfectly good, but he had to, so he did. The bakery though would sell the stale bread at a reduced price. A few homeless loved to get the cheap bread. He pushed the cart out of the aisle, through the middle of the store, and into the back. He passed by Todd who had the red and gold shirt on. Todd had a wide meaty face. A long nose too. Arnold nodded to him and Todd's lips moved but Arnold couldn't hear him over the sound of Herbie Hancock. He took off his headphones and turned to Todd. "What was that?"
"How's ya doing, Arnold? I feel like I haven't seen you all day."
"Well, I've been in the store."
"Doing what?
"Well I was just cleaning also doing a little produce work..., I'm aboutta get some tomatoes."
"I've been busting my ass in the deli."
"Busting your ass, huh?" Arnold smiled.
"Yes, sir. Standing on your feet all day cutting meat takes something out of me." Todd was walking away, waving a finger over his shoulder. "See ya, Arnold."
"Later, Todd." He liked Todd. Todd liked to talk and not too many liked to talk in the store. The cashiers did but he was never by them long enough. Arnold had found standing on his feet all day to be a challenge at first but now he was used to it. His feet still hurt a little bit at night but he could get through it. The store was air conditioned but he knew he'd have to wade into the heat to go home. Not only that he'd work up a sweat. He sighed.
He was looking at his reflection now. He was not looking into a mirror though... it was a framed photo. A photo of a jazz band that Arnold had never seen. Grandpa would always grill him for old jazz facts but this quartet was foreign to him. He got out his flip phone and took a picture. He walked further down the hall with his cart. He walked by the mural. Several different artists had created a mural for the store. The styles were varied. There was a man with unnatural proportions, a woman in a dress pulling a basket over her head, there was a man looking aloof staring somewhere in the middle distance, and the last thing in the hall before the backrooms was a blue bird in a blue sky. He opened the janitor's closet and pushed the cart into it. He closed the door and turned around. There was the back room where they kept all the produce. There was a big walk in fridge as well as boxes of things under a plastic wrapping machine. There was a few finished products they just needed labels. He removed cherry tomatoes from a box and put them on the produce cart. He opened the fridge. He felt the cool air on his skin and a chill ran down his spine. He quickly grabbed some brussel sprouts and put them on the cart. He also grabbed a few tomatoes. He looked at the packages. There were cut up carrots, celery, broccoli and a little cup of ranch. He looked at the wrapping job. It looked rough. He had been packaging them up like that the first week he came in but now he was good. It was effortless. He narrowed his brow. He went to the label machine and entered in the product. It spat out a label and he put it on the package. He pushed the produce cart to the front of the store with a dead look on his face. The music was good but... this work. He didn't want to complain not even in his mind. He sighed as he restocked the aisle. He put the brussel sprouts down in their spot. He put a few tomatoes in the pile.
Arnold wheel the cart to the back of the store. He got out some vegetables and started to cut them up. He made a few more snack packages. He also cut up a watermelon and made little packages of the pieces. He plastic wrapped all his packages and brought them to the front of the store. He looked outside. The outside was slightly tinted by the windows. It looked dark orange. He looked at the cashier. A little old woman with gray hair. She was wearing a sweater. She couldn't handle the AC. Arnold looked through the aisles without thinking much. He couldn't quite focus on his job. So he wandered a few more minutes. The owner stepped from his office and saw Arnold. He smiled. "Hey, Arnold."
Arnold returned the smile. "Hey."
"How's work?"
Arnold wanted to say something but he couldn't. He wanted to ask something but all that came out was; "Good."
"Keep it up." He walked by towards the front of the store.
Arnold's shoulder's slouched. He walked to the back of the store. He wasn't sure there was much to do now. He checked the front of the store went to the back. Got a few items. It went like this for another hour. That's when the owner announced to him that it was closing time. Arnold smiled. Did a little bit more work then went outside. He was in the heat. The summer was not kind to the people of the city. It just seemed to get hotter every year. It really was. He stuffed that thought down and went to his bike. The bike lock was wrapped around a pipe. He thought someone would ask him not to do that but he hadn't been warned once so he kept doing it. He entered the combination and put the lock in his backpack. He got on his bike and started to pedal. It was a twenty minute ride back to the boarding house. He sweat like he expected to. He was so used to ride it only felt like five minutes. He was at the stoop. He brought his bike up the steps and into the boarding house. He leaned it against a wall. He walked into the living room. Grandpa was there watching television. "Hey, grandpa."
"Oh, Arnold, how was work?"
"It was work." Arnold walked into the living room and collapsed onto the couch.
"That bad, eh?"
"Nobody talks to me."
"Would you rather be a cashier?"
"I don't know."
"Maybe you should talk to the owner."
Arnold liked Andrew but he never really had the guts to talk to him. They just seemed like a pair of two aloof dudes who always missed each other in some way. Arnold sighed. "Maybe I should, but they've already got a lot of people working register."
"Never hurts to try, short man."
"What is this?"
"This is one of them reality shows. Apparently women compete to be with this hunky dude. I've not really been following along."
"Weird." Arnold watched for another half hour. They were at a moment of decision. One of the women would not be getting a rose. It was dramatic but the moment wasn't really landing with Arnold. It seemed painfully cheesy. Arnold predicted who wouldn't get the rose and he was right. Arnold stood. "I'm heading up to my room, gramps."
"Night, short man."
Arnold walked up to his room. He looked around. The place wasn't much different than when he was young. New blue carpet though. He walked over to his bed and laid down. He took out his CD player from his pocket. He looked through all the plastic CD cases he had on the shelf next to his bed. He took out one. It was Frank Sinatra. He put it in the player and the disc spun. He put his headphones on. In The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning played in his ears. It was a gentle forlorn tune. He looked up through the glass above at the stars. He stayed listening to music for another hour or two. Then he was done with the night. He took off the headphones. He went and brushed his teeth and returned to his room. It was hot inside. He laid down without his blankets. He curled up and closed his eyes. He clapped his hands and lights were off. He could hear words. The lyrics to the dejected Sinatra tracks. Sinatra was always a little cheesy but his more depressing stuff always resonated with Arnold. He felt the tug of the night. He went softly into sleep.
