This is the second chapter of a story that will run all week.

Chad knew there’d be hell to pay for deflecting ‘The Talk’ with Mrs. Drury back to the Manager. And there was. The Manager gave him a lecture about responsibility and “doing the hard things” that turned into an impromptu job review and a list of all the improvements Chad would need to be working on if he was ever going to make it the Big Leagues of Retail Grocery. Chad had to bite his lip.

Turns out, the Manager didn’t even have The Talk with Mrs. Drury.  He him-hawed around and mentioned something about ‘customer service’ and gave Mrs. Drury a quarter an hour raise and then disappeared back into the parking lot to oversee striping from under the shade of the old oak tree between the Piggly Wiggly and the Grounds for Divorce.

When he got home Monday night, Prudence was in a mood.  “You have no idea what it’s like to chase two boys around this house all day.  It’s exhausting,” she said as soon as he’d walked through the door.  Apparently it was so exhausting that picking up the trail of toys and folding the clothes on the couch was too much for her.  There were more cars and trucks on the living room floor than a week’s worth of listings on Bring a Trailer.  “I haven’t had a chance to even start dinner.  We can either go to K-Bob’s or the Dairy Twin,” she said.

Knowing what they spent at Piggly Wiggly on groceries every week, neither of those options were good ones to Chad. He picked K-Bob’s because he had a coupon. He loaded the kids in the Dodge Aries wagon and they headed to dinner drowning in a sea of tension. They left K-Bob’s an hour later looking like it had been hit by a food tornado, the two boys having made a mashed potato sculpture in the middle of the table that took two waitresses to clean up. “Can you not rein them in a little?” he asked Prudence as they got into the Aries.

There had been only the slimmest, most remote chance for conjugal romance that evening.  Chad slayed it like a dragon with that question.

The next morning Chad woke up with a sense that he needed to do something to right the ship.  He showered and went down to grab a cup of coffee before heading out to work early.  The scene in the kitchen looked like a repeat of the K-Bob’s.  The boys were both screaming at the top of their toddler lungs at Prudence, who was slumped over the kitchen sink, staring down the drain.  Chad thought she might be sick.  She was just looking at her life, watching it swirl around the entrance to the disposal.

Chad filled his tumbler with Folgers, they mumbled something to each other, and he hugged each of the boys.  After the hugs, he noticed the peanut butter and jelly smeared on the front of his shirt, but didn’t have time to change.  He made his way to the Ben Franklin.  Becky, behind the register next to the front door said, “Hey Chad.  What brings you in?”

“A dog-turd brown Dodge Aries, but that’s beside the point.  I need a bath and body gift set.  Something nice.  Don’t care about the cost.”  

“Oh my!” Becky said.  “Someone’s pulling out all the stops!”

“Not all the spice is on the seasonings aisle,” he said.  He couldn’t tell whether Becky had a real appreciation for grocery humor.  It was an acquired taste, after all.  Ten minutes later, he left Ben Franklin $260 lighter with an Estes Lauder gift box of perfume, hand cream, and a variety of bath soaps and salts meant to satisfy the pickiest quaintrelle.  The velvet box was a bit dusty.  Fort Stockton isn’t known for the number of denizens willing to spend extravagantly on such things.

With the gift box on the seat next to him, he made his way to Soothing Strokes, over on Rick Perry Road.  “I want a gift certificate for The Works.  The best thing you got.”  

“Valentines Day?  Want me to make it a couple’s massage?”

“No.  This one is all about the wife.  She needs a spa day.” Chad said.

“They don’t have to be at the same time,” she winked as she filled out the certificate.  Chad was caught off guard, but then considered the name of the place.

“I’m good.  Just the one.”

Chad was feeling pretty proud of himself.  Especially for a Tuesday.  He was thinking about how he was going to present the gift package to Prudence.  And then the way she’d fall into his arms and thank him and tell him what a fantastic provider and husband he was.  How he could read her thoughts and know exactly what she needed.  The resulting encounter would make the break room escapades while they’d been dating look like a junior high slow dance.  

He parked the Aries around back, next to the dumpster, because they were still repaving the parking lot under the watchful eye of the Manager. He walked in the back door, glanced in the break room and thought back to when Prudence still worked in the Produce Department and he was just a checkout guy. He remembered standing at the register, when there was no one in line, and watching her stock the zucchinis. Maybe they could get some of that spark back.

The afternoon seemed to drag, though there was a definite spring in his step that hadn’t been there before.  He actually didn’t mind turning the labels on the canned goods so they all faced out, even though he’d told the stock boys a hundred times that was the proper way to do it.  “This new generation coming up has no appreciation for the grocery arts,” he muttered under his breath.

“CHAD!” the intercom blared at full volume.  “CALL ON LINE TWO.”  He made his way up to the cubicle next to Customer Service that held the little Assistant Manager’s grey metal desk. He opened the door that read ‘ASS. MAN.’ and took a seat at the tiny desk.

“Chad here.”

“It’s me.  Prudence.  I’m going to need you to keep the kids tonight.  Jamie, an old friend from college, is coming into town.  We’re going to meet for a drink at the Lucky Lady and catch up.  I need a night out, anyway.  Just wanted to let you know.  You might want to pick up dinner on the way home.  I won’t have time to cook anything.”  And with that, she hung up.

Chad hung up the receiver in the cradle on his desk, a deflated man.  He’d made the effort to show Prudence how good he was at reading the situation and stepping up to the plate.  He’d spent $500 they couldn’t really afford to pamper her.  Show his appreciation.  Put her in the mood.  And she was going out with a girlfriend from college instead of showering him with the appreciation he was sure he was due.  It’s not that he minded keeping the kids.  Not very much, anyway.  But she really couldn’t make dinner first?  Seemed ridiculous to him.

The longer he thought about it, the more irritated he got. Eventually, he left the Ass. Man. cubicle and headed to the back of the Piggly Wiggly. He didn’t even stop to turn the label to facing out on the entire row of black eyed peas. He went out to the Aries and grabbed the gift box out of the car. Then he went back and got the gift certificate, as well.

Coming in the back door, the spring in his step turned to a forced march.  He bristled as he walked past the Family Planning display.  The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he walked through Produce.  He finally made it to Register 4 and waited for Mrs. Drury to finish bagging the groceries she’d just rung up for Mr. Gloving.  He breathed in deeply and gagged just a little.  Mrs. Drury turned and looked at him.

“Why Chad!  How you doin’ this morning, Honey?”

“I wanted you to have this, Mrs. Drury,” he said.  And he handed her the gift box and the certificate.  She looked at both and tears welled up in her eyes.

“Oh, Honey!” she cried.  And then hugged him tight.  Much as he hadn’t wanted to make a scene, people stopped and listened to Mrs. Drury tell them how special Chad just made her feel.  Folks all told Chad what a sweet gesture it had been.  The Manager came in to see what the fuss was.  He eventually pulled Chad over to the side.

“Genius move, kid.  Catch ‘em with honey instead of vinegar.”  He slapped Chad on the back.  I probably wouldn’t have gone overboard with the gift certificate, too, but that’s just me.  She’s gonna smell like a rose when she busts into that gift box.  You might have a future in the upper echelon of the grocery game, after all.” Chad already regretted what he’d done.

That night, Chad was no sooner in the front door than Prudence was out of it. “Don’t wait up,” she said on her way out.

By the time the boys had been bathed, read a story, had three different snacks, and five different trips to the bathroom, Chad was exhausted and depressed.  He collapsed on the couch with a beer in one hand and the remote control in the other.  He hit the Nickelodeon Channel, remembering the cable bill was past due, and stumbled on an old episode of Starsky & Hutch, his favorite from when he was a kid.

There they were.  Fighting crime.  Catching the bad guys.  Getting the girls.  Looking good wearing a sweater that anyone else would be made a fool of for wearing.  And the car.  That’s the car Chad always wanted as a kid.  The Ford Torino.  Viper freaking Red with a white stripe over the top and down the sides that gave the finger to mere mortal men.  That’s the life Chad had dreamed of.  Sliding across the hood of his Ford Torino to catch a perp, not picking off suckers stuck to the seats of his turd brown Dodge Aries wagon on the way to a dead end job at the Piggly Friggin’ Wiggly.

He felt like his life was turning from Starsky in Starsky & Hutch to Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino.  Chad had another beer after the episode was over, staring at a blank screen on the big screen TV they’d bought on credit for Christmas.

He checked in on the boys, then went to bed.  He was sound asleep when Prudence got home, barely rolled over when she crawled into bed naked next to him.  He wasn’t in the mood.  She was tired, anyway.  She’d just figured it had been a while and it was the first time in forever she was relaxed enough, if he’d been in the mood.  It was just as well.

“Was your night okay?” he asked, dropping off into a sleep again.

“Sure,” she said without much emotion one way to the other.  “I heard on the radio coming home that David Soul, the blond guy from Starsky & Hutch died.  Didn’t you used to watch that show?”

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