le bonheur de vivre

13

The supermarket was cold.

It was the type of cold you feel at dusk in London in the wintertime when it hasn't rained for three days straight. Fresh. Icy. Dry. She liked this. It was gentle on her skin. It caressed her cheeks with elegance, if air could do such a thing.

Her mother stared with bulbous eyes at the various vergetables lined in front of her. She had come with her to pick up some food because they were running low, and it was convenient since they were in Gustavia. The others had gone to a bar down the road.

Elodie held a slab of chocolate tightly in one hand as she approached the woman, two stacks of cleaning products in neon-blue packaging guarding her mother's sides.

Under the sterile light they appeared as if covered in a layer of gloss, the plastic scintillating under the blinding white. It reminded her of when the waves would shimmer as the sun cradled itself in their roundness.

"Mama, may i have a dollar please?"

Her mother looked up and flashed a smile.

"For what?"

Elodie revealed her hand.

"That stuff is terrible for you."

"Mama please. I'm hungry."

"We're having lunch as soon as we get back."

Elodie grunted and dissapeared back into the aisle. A boy had appeared at the end. He was recongnisbale even from the distance by his lanky body and marroon  trainers. Garrett. Alone, as he was normally found.

She hadn't seen him a while.

"Garrett!" she said, excitedly, skipping over.

He looked up at her with a gentle smile.

She stopped beside him, peering into his shopping basket. A singular pack of jam doughnuts slumbered in the lower right corner.

"Elodie. What a pleasant surprise."

She noticed him avoiding eye contact.

"It's been a while hasn't it? What have you been up to?"

The boy shuffled his feet, scratching the side of his jeans.

"Hanging with the others. Fishing with my dad. My mum's in America right now."

"How exciting," Elodie beamed. "What is she doing up there?"

"Work, I guess," he muttered. A lock of his hair fell in front of his eyes, partially obscuring his view.

It seemed as if Garret had lost his ability to provide an interesting conversation. Or perhaps he was just nervous. Or perhaps he genuinely had nothing to talk to her about.

"I'm sure Mama will be at the check out by now," said Elodie, ending the conversation.
"I'll see you around another time. Maybe we can go on a walk along the north side together."

"I would very much enjoy that,"he replied, smiling once more as she began to walk off.

The check out was at the end of the shop, plopped conveniently next to the door. An older woman worked it. She had skin the colour of sun-burnt leather and eyes of rusted copper. Her hands were bruised from years of work. Her hair was always in two plaits. Her deep, black hair.

"Elodie," Garret shouted softly, just as she turned the corner into the final aisle. She stopped in her tracks and turned as he dashed up to her.

"I'm going to look like an absolute fool telling you this because I assume you already know it but if you don't I would think you'd like to kno-"

"Just tell me," she replied smoothly.

He swallowed and pushed the hair out of his eyes.

"Elliot has been telling people he slept with you."

It was as if a weight had been dropped into her lower abdomen. A heavy, stuffy weight that blocked her airways and held tension captive between her guts and stomach.

"Who has he told?" she mumbled, now the one avoiding eye contact as she squeezed the chocolate tightly in her hand.

"Paul, Adam, Gabriel.."

"Elodie I'm leaving!" her mother called from the door.

"Is that all?" Elodie asked anxiously, as she fumbled with the fresh thoughts being birthed from her skull.

"I believe so."

"Please stop that rumour from being spread. Tell them it's not true."

"ELODIE!" her mother yelled.

Elodie swivelled her fragile body towards the exit and began to leave, dashing down the aisle, stuffing the chocolate into her back pocket.

"Is it really not true?" Garret remarked, just loud enough so that she caught the comment as she turned the corner.

She couldn't blame him for suspecting the worse. He felt it, trust and understanding beginning to dissolve from around the skeletal substance of their friendship. It was as if it had been flayed, it's flesh open to be gobbled up, the uniqueness of its insides morphed into mere amity.

"No, Garrett," she replied, almost disappointed, before vanishing from sight.

And so he stood alone in the condiment and sugar laden aisle, not knowing where to go.
He put the doughnuts back. His appetite was gone. It had been replaced by an uneasy feeling in his gut.