Mary Lou pushed her wire-framed round glasses back up on her nose as she carefully wrapped the ceramic frog in bubble wrap. Her boss was adamant about protecting the merchandise they shipped from the Ebay store where she worked and she wasn’t prepared to have another run-in with her. Louise Cordova was not someone you wanted to get into an altercation with. She was tall, bone-thin, with a sharp-angled face that was a cross between Cruella DeVille and the Wicked Witch from the West. She often joked, “Do that again and I’ll be forced to use the rubber hose on you.” Mary Lou didn’t quite know what that meant, but she had visions of dungeons and handcuffs and muffled screams off in other dark and scary rooms.
“Hurry up with that,” Louise snapped as she strode over and peered down at the packing table. There are two customers out front and they need you. “Speed it up!”
Mary Lou’s hands shook as she reached for the packing tape. She knew from experience not to simply stop and go help the customers. She had tried that once and was publicly humiliated by Louise. “Oh, so you are so slow you couldn’t finish before coming out? I guess I’ll just have to go and do it myself. As usual.” Mary Lou had flushed crimson and she couldn’t make eye contact with any of the customers. She was a born klutz anyway; she had no idea why she was working in a store that required careful packing and boxing of many delicate items. She had just been so desperate for money when she had seen the “Help Wanted” sign.
Mary Lou put the last piece of tape on the box and walked quickly out to the front counter. She stopped short when she saw the two customers. They were her mother and father, whom she hadn’t spoken to for months, since the day she had packed her bag and left the house after another one of their drunken fights. “I can’t stand living here anymore,” she had yelled just before walking out the front door.
Louise didn’t appear to know who these people were and instead turned to Mary Lou and said, “Well, it’s about time. Why am I paying you if you’re not doing your job?”
Mary Lou found herself in one of those moments where she was standing between her past and her present and both were glaring at her with judgmental eyes. “Sorry, Ms. Cardova, but can I have a little time off the clock. These aren’t customers, they’re my parents.”
Louise mouth stretched into a tight smile. “If they’re not customers, then why is your father holding that?” She raised her arm and pointed at a large box in Mary Lou’s father’s hand.
“Dad?” Mary Lou said, confused. Are you here to see me or to sell something?”
Mary Lou’s mother stepped up and raised her arms in a hug. “Baby! So happy to see you. We didn’t know you worked here.”
“So…you actually are here to sell something?”
Louise sniffed. “If it’s business, then get to work, Mary Lou. These people don’t have all day.”
Mary Lou noted that her father’s eyes were cold and that his nose was red, like it always was when he had been drinking. “Do you pack as well as ship?” he said.
Mary Lou was dumbstruck. Her parents were standing in front of her and talking about eBay? How pathetic was that? “Yes, we do. Do you have something in that box that you’d like us to pack and send?”
Her mother looked a bit sheepish, but her father just nodded and handed her the box. Inside was the brand new juicer that they had given to her for Christmas just before she left.
“Money has been tight lately, honey,” her mother said, “and since you don’t seem to be coming back, well, we thought we would sell it.”
“That’s just fine,” Mary Lou said, reaching over and taking the box. “I’ll get it all packed up for you and mail it off.”
“Good,” her father said, while her mother stood shifting from one foot to the other, saying nothing.
Mary Lou wrote up the order, took their money and said good-bye. They turned and walked out of the store, silent.
After the door closed, Mary Lou stood for a moment wondering how she had come from those two people. They couldn’t have been more foreign than aliens to her, what they said and didn’t say; how completely self-absorbed they were in their world of alcohol and drama.
Sighing, she carried the box to the back room and opened up the lid. The juicer was still wrapped in the original plastic, just exactly as it had been when she had opened it on Christmas morning. She closed the lid and was just reaching for the brown paper to wrap it up for shipping when Louise walked into the room and put her hand on her bony hip.
“Your parents are selling your Christmas present?” she asked, her dark eyes bugging out from her too-thin face.
“Yep. Not a big surprise, believe me.”
Louise walked over, put her blue-veined hand with its red fingernails on top of Mary Lou’s. “Stop packing that up. It’s yours. You’re keeping it.”
Mary Lou froze, shocked by the kind tone in Louise’s voice. “But I’ve written up the order. We’re responsible for getting this juicer to the buyer – and believe me, you don’t want my father mad at you.”
Louise squeezed her hand. “I’ll buy a new juicer to send to the customer, but I’ll be damned if we’re sending them your Christmas present.”
Mary Lou felt the unfamiliar warmth that came from Louise’s touch and then ducked her head so the older woman couldn’t see her tears. “Thank you.”
“Now run to the market and buy lots of fruit,” Louise said, a new lightness in her voice. “Let’s toast a new start with some nice fresh juice.”
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