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I heard the bell on the door jingle signifying the first sign of life in the store all afternoon. And in he walked again, like he does once every week. He walks to the magazine section, reads AP, he buys a pack of gum and then he leaves. Today his hair was red: And it took me by surprise a bit, as this was the first time he had ever repeated a color. But it's alright, in all truthfulness red does suit him the best. Today he didn't buy gum, he left early and sort of abruptly after checking his phone. I wonder what could have happened.
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Last week he didn't come at all, and when he did show up the week after, all I could think about was asking him what happened. His hair was still red, although it was heavily fading, and that wasn't like him. Of course I realized I couldn't actually ask him because that would mean admitting to him and myself that I watch him closely when he's here. Knowing what time he comes and when he goes, remembering what color his hair is and how long it stays. This time he didn't buy a pack of gum he bought a soda, I realized I had never heard the sound of his voice.
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About a month went by before I could pick up the courage to talk to him, and even then it was brief. He had finally redyed his hair again, red for a while before he just went full bleach and was currently a platinum blonde. When he went to buy his gum he also picked up a 99 cent lighter, I thought quickly and planned on asking him what he needed it for. But all that came out was "Thank you, have a nice day." However, I did get to hear his voice, "Thanks you too."
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The next week he came in with pastel blue hair that had almost a silverish tint. It made me smile a bit because although it's not the first time his hair has been a pastel color, I find it amusing every time. He is a very tall guy, I stand at about six foot which is pretty tall, but he has to be at least six three. Also he wears only black, skin tight jeans and a variety of black band shirts. This boy has an eyebrow piercing and he dyes his hair pastel colors.
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Recently we spoke again, this time of his doing. When he came in it was quite sunny outside and his hair stood out much more, almost matching the sky, as he had darkened the shade of blue. While he was still reading, however, it started pouring quite randomly and I giggled as I heard him curse under his breath; of course he most likely walked here. When he went to check out he also included a five dollar plastic rain poncho that had drawings of little daisies all over it. "I'm gonna look like such a twat wearing this, but I just dyed my hair," he said through chuckles. I laughed as well and before I could respond he spoke again "But you won't judge right?" I shook my head and finished checking him out with a smile on my face. "Have a nice day!" He said walking out.
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The next day he came again, and it was still pouring, but now he had a hoodie covering his hair. This puzzled me for two reasons, one, he had never come in twice in one week much less the next day; and two, he had tears streaming down his face and his eyes were red as if he had been crying for a long time. He wandered around the store for a while before sitting down where he usually does on the floor in the magazine section. Usually I can only see his side peeking from behind the aisle but for a while I saw nothing, until I saw his legs coming from the edge on the aisle and gathered that he had lied down on the floor. He was there for a while and I could hear quiet sobbing which broke my heart; then he stood up, wandered around some more and ended up coming to the register with a pint of ice cream, a movie from the dollar bin and a very sad face. "What's wrong?" I uttered quietly, almost hoping he hadn't heard me. Just as quietly he responded "My boyfriend's been cheating on me," as he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. "I'm sorry, it's none of my business."
"No it's alright.....I've kinda always known. A few months ago my friend texted me to tell me that he saw him out with another friend of ours and it didn't look friendly, and I got really mad at her, my friend....actually I think I was here. Sorry I don't mean to dump all of this on you."
"No it's alright," we both giggled at the shyness of the other, this surprising me as he had never seemed shy. "I'm really sorry."
"It's okay, it's not your fault." He said before walking out.
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He didn't come back for another week, so we were back to the original schedule. He had his hair dyed green and he read the AP magazine in his usual spot in the magazine section, and I saw him messing with the lighter he had bought a couple months back. "Do you guys sell any vapes?" He asked walking up to the counter. "We do," I stuttered, "but I'd have to go get my manager in his office to come sell it to you because I'm not eighteen."
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen, I mean, my birthday is only in a few weeks, but yeah. Seventeen."
"Huh. Anyways I need to quit smoking, and I've heard going cold turkey is slightly maddening so," he said through nervous laughter. I scrunched my eyebrows together, because he smokes? We sell cigarettes, how is it he's never bought any from here? He's here every week?
"You smoke?" I asked accidentally sounding judgmental. "I mean not that there's anything wrong with that, I've just never seen you buy cigarettes or anything here?" He looked down and he......blushed?
"Yeah, I don't buy any here, because I didn't want you to know but. If I'm gonna quit...what does it matter anymore." My face scrunches together even more and I go alert the manager that the boy, well I guess man if he's that old, wanted to buy a vape.
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Next week when he came in was slightly different again. He didn't sit down like usual, but he waved at me before he started wandering the aisles. Obviously he stopped soon enough because we only have three medium sized aisles that don't have anything too entertaining stocked in them. But then he came up to my counter, with nothing to buy. "Are you- umm, do you....what's your name?" He stuttered nervously. "Luke." I whispered.
"I'm Michael." He said smiling down at the counter. "I was wondering if I could have your number, because you're very cute and very interesting. Every time I come in here you're completely dazed and unfocused. And if you're not staring off into space you're playing games on your phone, and I know it's gonna sound sort of creepy, but whenever I watch you you just look adorable and concentrated and you sort of stick your tongue out and-"
"Yeah...yeah you can have my number." I wrote my number on his forearm under a large tattoo I noticed in pink sharpie, coincidentally matching his current hair color.
"Okay, I'll umm, I'll call you." He said walking out and I may or may not have smiled to myself so big the rest of the day that when I got home my mum thought I was high.