Steve and I often go to the grocery store together, but since we each get our own groceries, on our own budgets, and to our individual tastes, we go our separate ways and meet back at the car. I use a regular cart, he uses a battery powered one. It's rare when we meet inside the store.
I was just selecting some cheese when I heard a couple of women saying, "Thank you for your service," sequentially to a customer coming up the aisle behind them. It happened to be Steve, wearing one of his military ball caps. He needed room to get past me so I pulled over to allow his shopping scooter a chance to pass. After a glance to see which cap it was this time, I chimed in with my own "Thank you for your service, sir." Just a tiny smile covered my imitation of a lack of recognition.
When Steve had passed the first two and came up even with me, he stopped, leaned over, tugged on my shirt, and asked, "Can I come home with you?" Two heads snapped sharply up.
I moved away microscopically, saying, "We'll have to discuss that later," and now having room, proceeded to pass the two women and continue towards the next thing on my list.
One of them whispered at me as I passed, sounding concerned, "Do you know that man?" Was I in need of protection? Being coerced? Pestered?
Options flashed through my head. "He seems so harmless, doesn't he?" Or, "(Big fake sigh) You know, I see him here occasionally, and every time he wants the same thing." It would have been true. Misleading, sure, but true.
I opted for honesty. "For about 40 years." Whereupon Steve chimed in that we were married. After a bit more conversation, we went our separate ways.
We might have to do this again.
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