Cashier Number Two Please

'Cashier number two please.'

Stephanie had fallen in love with the man at the bank.

It had been a week since she had last seen him. A week of searching for
something that would lead to the revisiting of the bank without
eyebrows being raised at home. Dave had already raised one eyebrow as
she had leaned into the kitchen to say she was going out.

'Where are you going?'

'Just to town to do some shopping'

He grunted and turned the page of his newspaper. Then lifting his mug
he gulped a mouthful of decaffeinated coffee with obvious
loathing.

'This coffee tastes like dirt' he said.

'I'll buy some regular while I'm out' she soothed as she went to kiss
the top of his head. He moved slightly towards her, more out of habit
than affection, keeping his eyes on the article about a crop circle in
the shape of a spoon. She pressed her lips to his hair. She liked the
way he smelled. Comforting, musky, like the inside of an old pub mixed
with the raw freshness of winter. There was a photo on the window ledge
of them on holiday in Scotland five years ago. Their smiles shone
through the foggy landscape, their eyes bright and dark with happiness.
She pressed her lips together and chewed them. In that picture they
were Stephanie and David worry free. In the kitchen that lunchtime,
they were Dave and thingy, working, sleeping, paying off debts. She
looked around the kitchen.

'Is there anything we need while I'm out?' she asked

'Coffee'

She made a noise of agreement and adjusted the strap of her handbag on
her right shoulder. Dave turned the page of his newspaper and leaned
back to scratch at his groin.

'I'll see you later' she said flatly as she zipped her coat up and left
the house.

Now she was standing in the queue at the bank, waiting to pay in a
cheque. She was waiting to see him, to hear his voice.

'Cashier number five please.'

She wanted to be smiled at, to be the centre of someone's attention, to
feel as if she wasn't made of Perspex. I am not see through, I am solid
and I'm here to be loved, she had told Dave one evening during another
of their rows. He had laughed and called her melodramatic, which was a
big word for Dave. She had dissolved into tears and slept on the sofa.
He was an unfeeling pig. He didn't understand. She unzipped her handbag
and felt around for the cheque and her plastic cards.

'Cashier number one please.'

He was sitting at number two today. She had given up trying to work out
if he would serve her and hoped he would. He was wearing the same light
blue shirt and purple tie as the rest of the staff, but somehow the
uniform looked different on him. She imagined that he had toned muscles
underneath, probably firm pectoral muscles which he worked on at the
gym three times a week. He was explaining a computer error to an
elderly lady in a mauve bobble hat. The lady couldn't hear his voice
through the screen, so he was leaning close to the glass. His stubble
formed a framing shadow around the bottom of his face.

'Cashier number five please.'

The pretty blonde girl at desk number five flicked her long straight
hair from her face. She filled out a form and handed it back to the
customer in front of her. The customer was a tall man in his forties,
wearing a grey pinstriped suit and carrying a selection of plastic bags
from shops in the city centre. He was probably doing shopping on his
lunch break thought Steph. She watched him place the bags on the floor
between his feet as he patted his pockets looking for a pen. The blonde
girl pushed one under the glass for him with a shy giggle.

'Cashier number two please.'

Steph's stomach tightened as the woman in front of her shepherded three
small children towards desk number two. It was then that she noticed
the name badge. On the left breast pocket of his shirt was a white
plastic name badge with bold black letters that said 'Anthony'. She
tested it in her mouth, tasted the letters. Was it bitter or sweet?
Anthony. Three syllables of newness and promise.

'Cashier number three please.'

Steph didn't move. The man behind her tapped her shoulder gently and
nodded towards the red flashing number three. There was only one thing
she could do. She let go of the cheque and the plastic cards in her
sweaty right hand and they scattered themselves over the pale pink
floor. She made a show of being surprised and sorry for holding things
up. She let the man go in front of her. The woman at desk number two
was folding an envelope back into her handbag as her children sharpened
their teeth on the shelf in front of the window. Finally they moved
towards the door and the number two above Anthony's window started to
flash.

'Cashier number two please.'
Steph smiled as she approached the window and placed her bag on to the
shelf. As she pulled her purse out, a packet of cigarettes fell to the
floor. She tried to pick them up before Anthony could see them. If he
went to the gym three times a week he probably didn't approve of
smoking.
'Can I pay this into my account please?'
She put the cheque and her bankcard in the tray and hid the cigarettes
at the bottom of her bag, cursing herself for possessing an addictive
personality.
'Nice day today, isn't it?' She gestured towards the door.
'I've been stuck in here since half eight.' There was a grimy mark on
the front of his shirt. If he had a girlfriend or a wife he wouldn't
have dirty clothes thought Steph. He took a slip of paper from the pile
in front of him and placed it into the printer on his desk. The
computer beeped and he pressed enter. The slip passed through the
printer and he slid it back. She watched his movements carefully. He
wasn't wearing a ring, no wife then. Strangely, Dave's face did not
appear and make her feel guilty, but it's absence made her feel
miserable.
'Was there anything else?'
She shook her head and folded the slip.
'Thank you?Anthony.' She said as she picked up her bag from the
shelf.
He smiled.
'No problem, have a good day.'

Outside the bank, Steph pulled the strap of her bag further up her
shoulder and stood looking down the high street. She had to buy some
coffee or Dave would be suspicious. It was nearly half four and already
the crowd was quickening it's pace for rush hour. She looked back into
the bank, watched Anthony laughing with his next customer. She should
have thought of something funny to say so she could have heard him
laugh. Too late now. She would think of a witty comment for next week.
She walked slowly towards the supermarket, prolonging the time before
she had to go back to Dave and pretend to be happy.

In the supermarket she stood back from the fight to get a basket. She
didn't mind waiting. She had started to enjoy mooching around the
supermarket in the afternoons, wasting time, watching other people
getting on with their lives. Her favourite game was to make up
background stories for their visits. One man seemed to always be there
when she was. Maybe he was in the same situation as her, avoiding going
home. Today he was wearing a green jumper and browsing in the fruit and
vegetables section. In her head, his wife was vindictive and lazy,
forcing him to work and keep the house while she sat on the sofa
watching 'Murder She Wrote' and eating mini pork pies. Poor man, Steph
felt sorry for him and always tried to smile as they passed each other
by the deli counter. The woman who worked on the ten items or fewer
checkout had a tendency to be in tears for most of her shift, so Steph
tried to buy more than ten items to avoid joining her queue. This lead
to inventive shopping, especially on days like today when she only
needed one thing. In her basket were the coffee and a magazine with a
photo of that woman who had not won the latest reality TV programme. As
she wandered the aisles, Steph let herself think about Dave. It wasn't
that she didn't love him; it was that he didn't seem to love her
anymore. Every time she wanted to do something together he would
deliberately work late and miss the film or become suddenly unwell and
have to cancel the restaurant booking. She had tried changing her hair,
bought new clothes, started watching the football with him on a
Saturday afternoon, but nothing revived Dave's interest. It could be
time to move on. If only she wasn't so frightened of being alone. In
front of the chilled meat section, she began selecting steaks and
planning a menu for their evening meal. They might not be getting on
well at the moment, but that was no excuse for not eating well. She
would cook his favourite meal, he was always less grumpy if he was
full. Having collected all the ingredients, Steph decided to buy wine
and trudged to the end of the store with the heavy basket banging
against her knee. She put it on the ground in front of the shelves and
looked for a decent red wine that wouldn't be too expensive. As she was
reaching for a bottle, she heard a familiar voice in the next
aisle.
'Excuse me, do you know where this wine is from?'
Why was Dave in the supermarket? He knew she was going to buy the
coffee on her way home. It would spoil the surprise if he saw her with
the ingredients. She put the wine back. If Dave was buying wine, she
wouldn't need to, so she grabbed the basket from the floor and walked
quickly back to the checkouts. She'd get home before him and start the
meal. He'd come home and surprise her with the wine. It would be like
old times; maybe he was trying at last.

In the street outside it had been raining and dirty grey puddles were
lying at random on the pavement. Steph hurried towards the bus stop to
join the queue, which she knew, would be curling past the bank by now.
Her phone chimed loudly in her bag and she wriggled it out as she
walked. She read the text message from Dave and stopped in mid
stride.
'Will be late home. Working til eight. Eating at the office.'
She read it again, locked the keypad and dropped the phone back into
her bag. She moved to the side of the street and leaned against the
soggy sandstone wall of the bank. As everyone rushed past her on their
way home, Steph sank slowly to the ground and lit a cigarette. She took
long slow drags, felt the damp from the ground seep into the denim of
her jeans. Her mind had run itself to a breathless standstill.

A door to her left opened, two employees from the bank came out and
joined the queue for the bus. Dark clouds muffled the thunder. The door
to the bank opened again and Anthony stood looking up at the greyness.
Steph saw him and flattened the frizz on the top of her hair with the
back of her damp hand. She scraped her cigarette out along the ground
and left it lying on the pavement.

Anthony looked down at the lady on the pavement. She looked upset. As
he was about to ask if she was alright, Leanne came racing down the
corridor behind him, flicking her long blonde hair and pushed him out
into the street.
'Come on!' she called as she hurried him along, 'we'll be late!'
He glanced back at the lady, watching him with open mouth, as if she'd
been about to say something. He turned back to Leanne and they ran to
catch the train.

Steph had been about to ask if he could help her stand up. This was
going to lead to a conversation in which Anthony would begin to fall in
love with her. He was going to ask her to go for a drink. Then she
would tell him her situation with Dave, about the rows and him not
understanding her, about his lying text message. Anthony was supposed
to offer to take her away from unfeeling Dave and press her to his firm
pectorals. As the fantasy came alive behind her eyes, a sudden noise
interfered, persisted in pulling her back to the pavement outside the
bank. The man in the green jumper stood looking down. She hadn't
noticed him approach but there he was standing close in front of
her.

'Are you alright?' His right arm stretched towards her, the ruddy palm
of his hand facing her. In his other hand were two bags of shopping.
Steph looked quickly to her side, making sure they were not hers.
'I saw you in the supermarket earlier.'
She stared back.
'You catch the bus from over there don't you? The fourteen?'
Steph pulled her jacket tightly round her. Dave was a lying pig,
Anthony was shacked up with the blonde floozy and now a crazy stalker
wanted to catch the bus with her.
'I'm waiting for someone.' She tried to sound convincing, but the
confusion and disappointment of the day couldn't be suppressed. The
tears trickled towards her chin. He sat down next to her and opened one
of the bags, taking a new box of tissues from it. He opened the box,
took a tissue out and offered it to her.
'Thanks. I'm not usually this much of a mess.'
He smiled. His Atlantic blue eyes turned towards the sky as fat rain
began to finally fall. They gathered their bags and moved into the
lobby of the bank.
'I'm Steve.' He said, as they stood in the empty room. The lights were
off in the bank but Steph could still make out the cashiers' desks. She
counted one in from the first.
'Cashier number two please.' She thought to herself.
'Stephanie.' She said to Steve.
'I've been wanting to say hello since the first time I saw you in the
Fresco express.' Now she knew who he was. He was the man with the wife
who ate mini pork pies, the man she smiled at while she selected
cheeses and cooked meats.
'I'm sorry, I'm always in a hurry.'
'Do you want to go for a drink? Until the rain stops?' He said. He
raised his eyebrows and smiled. There was a dimple hiding in his
stubble that gave him a childish air. She wanted to laugh. This was
ridiculous. She hadn't been asked on a date for years. Who was this man
anyway?
'I've got to get this shopping home.' she looked down at the bags. He
shrugged and started to say something, but Steph was first.
'Actually, I don't need any of this.' She went to the bin by the cash
machines and dropped the bags of carefully planned dinner ingredients,
heard them land with a thud. Then she laughed.
'I guess I'm free to go.' She said turning round. He laughed back at
her and led the way.