Alex had just returned from his holiday and, quite frankly, I was glad to see him back. Steve and his mother were still at each others throats and it seemed odd that they couldn't settle their differences, seeing as they work and live with each other. You spent that much time with someone and you're bound to get it sorted. But Steve was stubborn, and so was Margaret. She had made him do overtime all week and he was knackered. Which was good for me, as he had no strength to bullshit.
Steve was upstairs on his lunch so me and the returning Alex cleared up outside. He had done a lot with his time off, apparently. He was made Godfather at Callum's Christening, best man at Duncan and Jenny's Wedding and worked with his Dad on a building site. Not bad for a lad who's never taken an interest in anything except glue.
Alex collected a few baskets inside the store then made his way back outside. He seemed quiet, but I put it down to it being his first day back. Everyone is always a bit odd at the their first day back from a holiday. They spend the day sighing and in a world of their own. But Alex was always in a world of his own, so he seemed twice as distant.
'All right, Alex?'
'Yeah, yeah. Fine.'
I always had to start the conversation with Alex, it doesn't happen with any other colleague. They talk at you first, mainly out of boredom. But with Alex, I needed to kick-start the chat. I was about to give it another go but he piped up again.
'You know that girl? Off the checkouts?'
Alex needed to narrow it down a little bit more if I was to know. About ninety percent of the checkout team were female.
'Which one?'
'Black hair.'
Seventy percent now.
'Keep going.' I said.
'About my age. Glasses.'
Thirty percent.
'She's in a kind of....wheelchair.'
'Oh, yeah. Fran.'
'Is that her name?'
'Yeah, I think so. Why?'
'I didn't know what her name was. We just got chatting.'
I can't imagine Alex chatting. He didn't have enough vocabulary, surely.
'Oh right, what were you chatting about?'
'Bacon sandwiches.'
'Bacon...sandwiches?'
'Yeah.' Alex smiled.
I waited a second for the words to seep into his brain and correct himself, but nothing happened. He just kept smiling.
'Good conversation, then?'
'It was all right.'
I couldn't tell if 'all right' was good or bad in Alex's mind. Everything seemed 'all right' to him. But he kept going.
'You see, she likes it with brown sauce but I'm a red kind of guy.
'Wow, you want to be careful, mate.' I said sarcastically. 'Next thing you know you want to watch an Arnie film and she wants to see a shit Robin Williams one.'
'Oh, that won't happen, will it? I hate Robin Williams.' Alex winced.
'Differences are differences.'
'What makes you think I want a relationship with her anyway?' He asked, defensively.
'Well do you?'
Alex didn't answer. He just smirked at me.
'Can I ask, Alex. Why didn't you say she was in a wheelchair at first?'
'Eh? Oh, well, you know...it's not a big deal is it?'
'Who are you asking? Me and you?'
'You, of course.'
'Of course it's not. She's a nice girl, Fran.'
'She's mine!' He barked at me.
Wow, suddenly Alex had a bit of spark about him. I liked it. Now he might actually be able to join in other conversations I may want to start in the future. The usual being Desert Island Discs Top 5 Songs, Would You Rather...? and What Would You Do With 10 Million Quid? I tried the last one with Steve but it was boring. For an 'ex-rocker' I didn't expect his to reply to be 'Invest it.' I'm not sure Hendrix invested his earnings, maybe in a bit of crack every now and again.
It was a pretty quiet day so I went up into the canteen for a quick drink, only to find Steve slumped over on a table in the corner. I could only see the top of his head, his face nestled in his forearm. He was tired, working everyday for two weeks. Poor Steve. My sympathy lasted about three seconds. I slammed my can of Fanta on the table and sat down myself down violently.
'All right, Steve!' Nudging him in the arm.
He shot up from his chair and blurted out a noise, looking from side to side. After a few seconds he settled down.
'Oh, Dylan. Morning.'
'Afternoon.'
'Yeah, whatever.' Steve moaned, nestling his head back down to the table.
'You still on your lunch?'
'Still on my breakfast, I think.' He mumbled. 'Didn't get enough sleep last night.'
'You're doing too much, mate.' Sipping my can.
'Naa...I'm just...'
His words fell away, turning into occasional snores and noises. His own mother had forced him to work three times as much as he normally would. He could have refused them, of course. I don't doubt he did refuse at first. But if there's one person who can get you to do something, it's your mother. I stared at his sleeping little pony-tailed head as I finished my can of drink. I'm not very good with sympathy, particularity with Steve. So instead of walking away and letting Steve sleep, I looked at my empty can and placed it on Steve's sleeping shoulder, tucking it in-between his collar and neck. Looking back I don't know why I did it, I thought it was funny at the time. Not knowing what it would turn into.
I made my way back downstairs and along the row of checkouts. Most of the tills were open and complete with a bored colleague staring straight forward. I spotted Alex at the first checkout, a pile of baskets in a trolley beside him, chatting away to Fran.
'I just didn't like Jumanji. And Mrs Doubtfire...rubbish. What do you think?'
'Why are you going on about all the films you hate? Surely the ones you like are worth talking about.' Fran suggested.
'Just checking.'
Fran was a small girl, with short black hair that matched the frames of her glasses. It was nice to know Alex had been thinking about their differences since I'd left him outside earlier. He was right, though. Robin Williams is rubbish.
'So is it dead outside, like it is in here?'
'Yeah, dead. There's something about Thursdays, isn't there? It's never busy.'
I was proud of Alex. He was small talking like a natural. I should have intervened right there, made him quit while he was ahead. But no, I let him carry on.
'I'd rather be in here then out there, though. It's a bit cold out.'
'Ah, it's not so bad.' Alex shrugged.
'I don't understand why you like it so much out there.'
'It's easy work, you get to walk around...'
Fran's face dropped. My face dropped. Alex face finally dropped when he realised what he had said. Fran looked down and Alex looked away, before trying to re-start their small talk.
'Erm...so what time are you on till?'
Good generic question.
'Six.' She replied bluntly, still looking down.
'OK.' Alex nodded.
He looked at me and winced, then walked past me towards the stairs. I couldn't leave him with his embarrassment, so I followed him upstairs and sat on the table where he was slumped.
'Don't worry, Alex.'
'What? Why should I be worried?'
'….It was an honest mistake. You meant no harm.'
'Why did I say that?' Rising up to meet my eye line.
'I don't know. It was just part of the chit-chat. It was an idle chit-chat blunder.'
'An idle chit-chat blunder?' Trying to convince himself.
'Yeah. Just apologise. As I said, it was an honest mistake.'
'I told a girl in a wheelchair it's nice to walk around!'
'You didn't mean it like that!'
Alex scoffed and planted his head back down. He had to find it funny somewhere in his head, but not at the moment. I could tell he really liked her, so he couldn't just leave it like this. You leave it an hour, an hour turns into a day, then a week. Then before you know it you're looking back on an embarrassing statement you said four years ago, and it's too late to repair it.
'Just go and talk to her.' I said slowly.
'She doesn't want to talk to me now, does she?'
He rose back up from his chair, before fixing his eyes on something behind me. I turned around in my seat and scanned the room. I realised what Alex had spotted. Steve, on the table in the corner with 3 or 4 people around him, adding objects to his sleeping body. There were two girls of the grocery department, holding napkins and plastic cups. A member of the cleaning staff carefully placing a sandwich box on Steve's head and, strangely enough, the deputy manager Chris, putting knives and forks into his top pocket. I looked back at Alex, who was giggling at what he was seeing. The I realised I had inadvertently started a game of Buckaroo with my can of Fanta. A sentence I don't say everyday. Steve was still well away. Snoring peacefully whilst covered in assorted litter. A sense of pride suddenly overwhelmed me. Being 23 I hadn't really achieved anything so far in my life. Sure, a degree in Biomedical Sciences is an achievement, but there's very little else. No medals for school football tournaments. No bands I could play in. I didn't even get that certificate in swimming when you swim in your clothes. But I had created a human Buckaroo that even managers were getting involved in. That made me smile for the rest of the day.
The next morning I arrived at 10am, Alex had started earlier and was smiling as I made my way down to the trolley bay.
'I spoke to her.'
'Morning, Alex.'
'Yeah, morning. I spoke to her.'
'Oh yeah?' I said, adding a trolley to his pile.
'Yeah.' He said, his face beaming. 'We're going out tonight.'
'Aw, brilliant. I guess you made up with her, then?'
'Yeah, I apologized. She said it was no problem. To make it up to her I'm going to pay for her cinema ticket.'
'That's nice, Alex. Just make sure she doesn't want to watch that new Robin Williams film.'
His face dropped.
'I better go check with her.' Skipping up to the store.
Ten minutes later he was running down towards me, bellowing that I should come and look at something. I followed him up to the half full canteen and looked to where he was pointing. It was Steve, still asleep in the corner and covered in nearly three times at much litter as we saw yesterday. The night staff had joined in, and done a great job, too. Now on his head and shoulders were bits of cardboard, crisp packets and a stapler. I wanted to shake the hand of whoever put that on him, it looked like a heavy stapler. I felt twice as proud. It's amazing what litter can do to your confidence in life.
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