Something in Common

Three days after John turned seventy, he decided it was time he went shopping for groceries more than once a week. He had noticed the bags he carried home were getting heavier and heavier. At first, he convinced himself the gallon of milk and six bananas he always bought were the reason. But upon reflection, he reluctantly admitted to himself that he might be experiencing a weakening of his powers. In other words, maybe his age was catching up with him.

John’s birthday was in late November, after most of the leaves had left the trees. The few remaining on the barren branches fluttered weakly in the wind as if waving goodbye. With winter coming, on gray days especially, the earth looked as though it was dying.

If John was proud of anything it was his thick white hair, and he always combed it carefully and shaved before he set off to buy groceries at the A&P over on Halsted Street. It wasn’t as if he expected to meet anyone he wanted to impress; rather, to satisfy his own self-image. When his wife was still alive, John had always groomed himself everyday, and he hadn’t stopped, even though it was eight years since she died.

The new shopping schedule John planned to follow would get him to the store every Tuesday and Thursday, fifteen minutes after it opened at nine. He liked to shop early on weekdays because few people were in the aisles. If he moved fast, he could shop and be checked out in less than half an hour.

The first Tuesday John was on the new schedule, he stopped in front of the shelves of coffee and was about to reach for the last bag of Red Circle when a woman’s hand reached it first and quickly transferred it to her shopping cart. It was a right hand, small and white and very soft looking. The fingernails were polished a bright red and a gold ring with a single ruby was on one of her fingers.

She smiled when John looked at her, and apologized for having taken the last bag. “I didn’t think many people drank Red Circle coffee,” she said laughing. “Usually the shelf is full. I wonder what happened.” She paused, studying the puzzled expression on John’s face. When she decided it was friendly, her smile broadened. “If you want the last bag, please take it,” she said, lifting it from her cart and handing it to him.

John was still silent. His attention was focused on her face, and he saw that, although she was probably close to his age, she was still quite attractive…in fact, very attractive. “A…no…I mean you keep it,” he said finally. “You were here first.”

“Well, I’m not out of coffee at home,” she said, “so I could wait until I come next time. I shop here every Tuesday and Thursday morning,” she continued, still smiling.

John could tell her smile was natural…the kind that just appears, spontaneously as it were. But also the kind of smile one remembers, even if seen only once.

“No, you keep it,” John insisted. And for some reason he couldn’t explain, he added, “maybe someday I’ll have a cup of coffee made from that very bag.” The words were no sooner out of his mouth then he wondered what had suddenly come over him. He was seventy! What was he doing? What was he thinking of? He was flirting like an impetuous twenty-year old!

Blushing but keeping her smile, she replied, “Well we’re not really coffee-sharing friends…are we?” She paused, and looked at him with a sparkle in her eyes. “I’m Evelyn.”

“A…no,” John stammered. “I’m so sorry…a…that was really stupid of me. I mean…”

“I don’t think so,” she interrupted. “Actually, it’s the nicest thing I’ve heard all day. Of course, it’s still early.”

Evelyn’s smile became a light laugh again. And John’s solemn expression relaxed. For the first time, they saw something bright in each other’s eyes.

“My name’s John…John Stoddard,” he stammered. “I live over on Dayton Street. I’m very glad we had a chance to meet even if under awkward circumstances. I really hope you’ll forgive and forget what I said before. I don’t know what came over me. I…”

“I’ve already completely forgiven you,” she said. “But forget your remark…how could I? It gave me a few moments of happiness. The kind I haven’t felt in awhile. You see, my husband died in March. Thankfully, it wasn’t a long illness, and he didn’t suffer.” She continued to smile, but John could see that, this time, it was forced. And there were tears in the corners of her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I mean…I really am very sorry.”

They talked for a while about very general things: where they lived, how long each had been married, and how much they missed their spouses. It was a “get acquainted” conversation, not a sharing of deep feelings or intimate thoughts. They both enjoyed it and secretly hoped they might meet again although they never said so when they parted.

Because they shopped at the same store at the same time, they met later that week on Thursday and then again on the following Tuesday. There was no conscious plan that they meet or any agreement between them. But each understood the other was glad when they did. John learned that Evelyn liked movies, popular music, and best selling novels. John liked cars and baseball and the latest news about the War then raging in Europe and the Pacific. She tended to the more formal; he was casual, almost always wearing a jacket and sometimes even blue jeans.

On Thursday of the second week, John waited for Evelyn after he had checked out. She saw him standing near the door and could tell from the look on his face he was going to say something serious. She now knew his facial expressions that well.

“I hope you won’t think I’m too forward. And I don’t want you to think I’m pushing you or anything,” John said. “But would you go out with me tonight, maybe over to Dimple’s down the street for a couple of drinks?”

“I’d love to,” Evelyn replied without hesitation, “but on only one condition. That you do something for me first.”

“Is it real important?” John asked a little uneasy. “Is it hard to do?”

“It’s very important. But I don’t think it’s difficult. I want you to come over to my place first and have a cup of the Red Circle coffee I bought here last week.

John laughed. “I can do that. By the way, Evelyn, what’s your favorite drink?”

“Gin and Tonic,” she replied quickly.

“Mine too.”