Hipster Hearts (ON HOLD)

Chapter Three

I was sitting at my counter in Square Books the next day, just admiring all of the literature and enjoying the scent of freshly brewed coffee.  I also observed the people as they walked in and out.  A woman with her child stepped in.  The child, maybe around three or four, had on a miniature Ole Miss cheerleading outfit with little red and blue ribbons tying up her golden pigtails.  She bounced around with her new Dora picture book she had just found.  I could literally see the joy in her pretty blue eyes and gap-toothed grin.  The woman had hair of similar color, and she had laugh lines around her eyes.  I could also see stress lines on her forehead.  She looked down at the girl lovingly, and laid a hand on her daughter’s fair head.  It seemed like the picture of perfection in that moment, and I wished that I had had my camera to capture it.  

Because not even two minutes later, the little girl looked up at her mother with big, puppy dog eyes and said, “Mommy, I want ice cream.”

The mother sighed and shook her head, “Maybe later, okay honey?  Mommy has some errands she has to get done before the game.”

“But I want it now!” the little girl crossed her arms and stomped a foot on the ground stubbornly.  Her bottom lip stuck out and her eyebrows furrowed.

“Baby, let’s just go ahead and get your book, okay?  Oh, is that Dora?  Can you sing me her theme song?  How does it go?”  the mother tried desperately to distract the child.

“No, I want ice cream.”

“We’re getting it later, sweetie.”

The little girl bursted into tears and threw the Dora book down.  She then jumped on top of it over and over again.  A few people in the store turned to look at the spectacle, not sure if they were supposed to help or not.

“Baby, stop.  Okay, we’ll go get ice cream.  Just stop jumping on the book.  Do you want the book honey?  We can read it tonight if you want.”  the woman said quickly.

The girl immediately stopped jumping and bounced back onto the floor as if nothing had happened.  Her eyes were completely dry, save one fat tear that rolled down her chubby cheek slowly and fell right on Dora’s face.

The pair walked up to me and set the book on the counter.

“That’ll be $8.50 please ma’am.” I said with the brightest tone I could muster.  (My boss said that I was too monotone when I talked.)

The woman looked at me with annoyance, “Really? $8.50 for a Dora picture book?  Seriously?”

“I don’t make the prices I just sell the books.”

“Well I’ll just have to talk to the manager about this.  That’s ridiculous, there’s barely ten words in here total.”

“I’m sorry ma’am.  Would you like to buy a gift card with that?”

I really didn’t want to say that last part, but it was protocol.  She looked at me as if I asked her whether the sky was green or purple.  Then she slapped the money on the countertop and grabbed the child’s hand.  They walked right up to the frozen yogurt place and stepped inside.  It was amazing to me to see how nasty people would let their children behave.  I thought to myself that if I ever had kids, they would never turn that naughty, or at least not until they were old enough to move out.  I shook my head and returned my gaze to the various customers inside my store.

I saw an old couple, probably in their late 70’s or early 80’s, lounging in a love seat near the door.  They were both sharing a copy of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.  The man would occasionally point to a spot on the page, explaining his thoughts to his wife.  She would almost always respond with a swat of her hand on his wrist, telling him to quiet down so she could read.  He would grumble a little after that, but then return to reading.