The Market Lady
Robert S. Burch
Road dust covered them from head to foot like a fine coat of flour. The sun had seared their exposed skin to a bright pink hue. All three wore faded shorts, ragged T-shirts, and worn flip-flops. The woman also carried a huge black leather purse over her right shoulder. They moved slowly, as if the sun had devoured their vitality. They breathed slowly through their open mouths.
Unlike them, I take pride in my appearance. Today I wore a short-sleeved blue shirt with a light blue tie, gray slacks, and black loafers. Today we had the highest temperature ever recorded for this day in July. I went without a coat, which I normally wear. Like my uncle, I have a firm belief that you can judge people by their appearance.
I work in an office across the highway from the mall as an insurance adjuster. I got started by assisting my uncle Jack, who is an insurance adjuster, while working my way through college. Three years ago, I graduated from college and went to work for him full time. My uncle likes me working in the office. However, he has encouraged me to get a full time job with a big company that has good benefits. Our office doesn’t have health insurance or a retirement plan. I like what I do. I’m good at it. I make good money.
No one wanted to join me for lunch, so I made my way across the highway to the Renton Shopping Mall. I hurried across the hot asphalt as fast as traffic allowed. When I reached the mall, I stood still for a moment and enjoyed the air conditioned coolness.
Sun Woman and her small fries entered the store about a minute after me. She dawdled choosing a cart and strolled slowly down the aisles, like she was stuck in slow speed. Her children gaped at her each time she picked up an item. Her girl appeared about eight and the boy about nine. They clung to one side of the Sun Woman’s cart and each time they whined or cried she would grab their cheek between her thumb and finger and shake their little red faces until they stopped.
I didn’t see them again for nearly twenty minutes. I had a sandwich and a soft drink at the deli counter. When I finished my lunch I walked back to the front of the store and on my way chose a cold Diet Coke from a cooler to take with me.
Seven or eight shoppers lined up behind all twelve check out counters which is normal at noon. I don’t mind the long lines; the wait in line gives me an excuse to rubberneck and people watch. I watched as Sun Woman and her children got into one of the lines and out of curiosity I stepped into the same line. Sun Woman had several tattoos on her arms that her sunburn and road dust nearly obscured. She had folded her sunglasses and stuck them in the neck of her t-shirt. She had short brown hair streaked blond tied up in a ponytail. Some of her hair had come loose and hung in strands. She couldn’t have been more than thirty-five, but she looked like fifty. She wore silver and turquoise rings on every finger and half a dozen silver bracelets around her wrists.
“That’ll be twenty six seventy five,” the cashier told Sun Woman and sneered when she saw Sun Woman pick food stamp books out of her purse. She separated the purchases into two piles. Sun Woman tore the coupons from her stamp books and handed them to the cashier. “How much cash do I owe you,” She asked in a surprisingly husky tenor voice.
I expected a much different voice from a woman who was almost five feet tall.
“Fourteen sixty seven,” she said. She looked at the cashier at the next counter and gave a slight shake of her head. She then folded her arms over her chest and gave a big sigh. Sun Woman searched through her billfold. When she didn’t find money in her billfold, she began frantically pawing through her purse. She found several loose dollars and some loose change. Shoppers in other lines stopped to watch. One couple walking out of the store with their purchases stopped at the end of my counter and pointed at her and laughed.
The man standing in line ahead of me shook his head and left our line. Sun Woman meticulously searched though her billfold again. While she was searching her billfold, I took a twenty-dollar bill out of my pocket and dropped it into her purse. She placed her billfold on the counter and searched through her purse again. I could actually hear her breathe a sigh of relief when she found the money.
My action surprised me. I’m not the type of person who steps forward and helps anyone. In fact I don’t even say, “God bless you,” if someone next to me sneezes. After I’ve had time to think about it: I have to admit that I’m not very happy with myself. I was motivated to help anonymously not for any noble reason, but by anger. I was angry with the man and woman who stopped and laughed at Sun Woman and her children.
Sun Woman left the store with her kids hanging off her two plastic bags. I never saw her again.
In a way, I feel like a fool. Did the woman pick up things that she knew she couldn’t pay for? Even worse, it makes me sad to think that I may not be the good person I thought I was. I didn’t set out to help a person in need, I reacted to the ridicule of another person’s misfortune and that’s not the same thing. Knowing this, why do I feel good when I think about what I did?
