Late Night Shopping
Mar. 22nd, 2009 01:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
purple_pen“Broccoli? Seriously?”
Nearly stumbling into the root vegetables in surprise, Emma was grateful that the supermarket was nearly empty at half one on a Thursday morning. “Jesus! Where the hell did you come from?”
Alison ignored her, continuing with her perusal of Emma’s shopping trolley. “Since when did you get so healthy?”
“Five portions of fruit and vegetables a day. It's supposed to help lower your risk of getting cancer.”
“That's good to know.” Alison rolled her eyes. “What about food that actually tastes of something?”
“Give me chance. I haven't even got to milk and cheese yet.” Emma tossed a handful of mushrooms into a paper bag and added them to the trolley. “So, what *are* you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I asked you first.”
“I asked you last, you answer.”
“Age before beauty.”
“Not any more.”
Emma just about managed to keep her hold on the box of filled pasta, her eyes suddenly filling with tears. Riding on the trolley, Alison ducked her head, looking guilty. Silence fell over them, and Emma noticed for the first time that the canned music was turned off in the night.
“Sorry,” Alison said quietly.
“It’s OK. I just… you didn’t have to remind me. I remembered.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Here, go mad, buy full fat cream cheese, it won’t kill you. Not unless I’m really lucky.”
For a moment, Emma wanted to throw the cream cheese at the other girl. Not that it would have any effect, but that didn’t make it any less tempting. Instead, she dropped it into the trolley silently.
Alison took the hint and muttered, “Sorry,” again.
“Stop saying sorry. Stop saying that stuff.” The trolley jammed, one wheel trying to go in the opposite direction to the other three and she shoved it a little harder than she’d intended. Alison wobbled.
“You didn’t have to do that!”
“Never noticed it stopping you.” She’d never yet figured out why, but it was a universal truth that it was impossible to buy two pint cartons of semi-skimmed milk after midnight. Emma sighed and added a four pint carton to her trolley, resigned to pouring most of it down the sink, assuming she remembered before it started turning into cheese.
“Don”t forget the Port Salut.” Alison nodded her head at the counter next to them.
“I can’t stand that stuff. I only used to buy it for you and there’s not much point now, is there?”
Alison’s face fell. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”
“No worse than what you’ve been saying to me since you materialised and made me look like a crazy person in the middle of Tesco.” Apple juice, orange and grapefruit, since Tabraz might be coming for dinner later in the week. Or long life, since he might not bother.
“I’m allowed.”
“Oh really? Why’s that?” She always meant to write a shopping list, but somehow she never remembered. She’d have to do one and leave it by the bed, ready for the next time she couldn’t sleep and had to get out of the house. At least then she wouldn’t have to go back to the supermarket the next day to buy all the things she’d forgotten.
“Special circumstances.” Alison grinned, but there was a touch of sadness to the edges of it. Emma knew how to read her, always had.
“Whatever.” She did know that she needed pasta, she’d used the last of it making carbonara a couple of days ago.
“You didn’t use milk instead of eggs again, did you?” Alison grinned gleefully from the end of the trolley.
“I don’t know why I tell you things some days.” Emma slung a bag of shells into the trolley. “No, I remembered to buy eggs. It wasn’t bad actually. And stop doing that, it freaks me out.”
“That’s the only reason I do it. Got to get my fun somehow. Don’t forget to buy rice.”
Emma stopped, frowning at the other girl. “Do you want to do this for me?” she asked sharply.
“No, no, you go on ahead. I was just trying to help.”
“What do you know, miracles do still happen.” She added a 500 gram packet of basmati rice anyway, ignoring the smirk on Alison’s face.
“Call it one of the perks.”
The trouble with forgetting was that when she did remember, it was worse. Even six months later, the shock of remembering, of talking to Alison and suddenly knowing, was still enough to freeze her, to make her hands shake and her throat close with pain.
And there wasn’t a damn thing either of them could do about it, or at least nothing that they could live with… nothing that she could live with.
“Alison…” Her voice sounded thick with tears, and she felt the cold drop on her cheek when she blinked.
“I know.” Alison reached out, her hand stopping before it got close to Emma’s arm, her face twisted with regret and unhappiness. “I know.”
“I wish –” A hand ghosted across her mouth, stopping the words.
“Don’t say it,” Alison whispered. “Can’t change it, can’t go back. And don’t think this means I’ll forget that you promised to buy decent food.”
“I bought vegetables, what’s more decent than that?” Emma scrubbed a hand across her eyes, ignoring the way her voice shook on the words.
“Food that tastes of something. The kind you eat because you like it, not because it’s recommended by the Health Eating Commission or whatever they’re called this week.”
“Fine. Liquorice All Sorts it is then.”
“I meant chocolate.” Alison made a face, helpless. “Do you know how many additives there are in those?”
“No, and neither do you. Besides, that’s why I’m buying vegetables.” Emma surveyed the contents of her trolley. Just like always, she knew she’d forgotten something and, just like always, she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. She forced the trolley to turn and headed towards the tills.
“Wait, wait, wait, hold on a minute.” Alison held up an imperious hand, dragging one foot on the lino floor, to no discernible effect. “Buy a bottle of wine.”
She stopped. “Why? Who’m I going to drink it with?”
“Doesn’t matter. Drink it by yourself, next time you can’t sleep. Better than going shopping in the middle of the night, only crazy people do that.”
“Explains why I’m talking to you then.” Ignoring Alison’s glare, she grabbed a bottle of Ernst and Young that was reduced to half price. “Happy now?”
“Ecstatic. Nothing better than the idea of getting you drunk.”
“You just say that cos you won’t be around to deal with the hungover part. Hi.”
The till assistant smiled back wanly, and started pushing Emma’s shopping over the scanner, eyes glazing over.
“Honestly, I can’t believe you’re buying broccoli. How anyone can like that stuff is completely beyond me.”
“Would you give it a rest already?” Emma demanded, throwing the offending vegetable onto the conveyor belt.
The assistant glanced up. “Sorry?”
“Oh, no, not you. Sorry.” Emma felt herself flush. “See what…?” She stopped, half-turned back to her friend.
Alison was gone.
She let out a deep sigh of disappointment, and handed over her credit card.
It wasn’t until she was back in her kitchen, unpacking the bags, that she discovered a slab of Cadbury’s Fruit and Nut that she knew she hadn’t put there.
Some things never changed.
Nearly stumbling into the root vegetables in surprise, Emma was grateful that the supermarket was nearly empty at half one on a Thursday morning. “Jesus! Where the hell did you come from?”
Alison ignored her, continuing with her perusal of Emma’s shopping trolley. “Since when did you get so healthy?”
“Five portions of fruit and vegetables a day. It's supposed to help lower your risk of getting cancer.”
“That's good to know.” Alison rolled her eyes. “What about food that actually tastes of something?”
“Give me chance. I haven't even got to milk and cheese yet.” Emma tossed a handful of mushrooms into a paper bag and added them to the trolley. “So, what *are* you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I asked you first.”
“I asked you last, you answer.”
“Age before beauty.”
“Not any more.”
Emma just about managed to keep her hold on the box of filled pasta, her eyes suddenly filling with tears. Riding on the trolley, Alison ducked her head, looking guilty. Silence fell over them, and Emma noticed for the first time that the canned music was turned off in the night.
“Sorry,” Alison said quietly.
“It’s OK. I just… you didn’t have to remind me. I remembered.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Here, go mad, buy full fat cream cheese, it won’t kill you. Not unless I’m really lucky.”
For a moment, Emma wanted to throw the cream cheese at the other girl. Not that it would have any effect, but that didn’t make it any less tempting. Instead, she dropped it into the trolley silently.
Alison took the hint and muttered, “Sorry,” again.
“Stop saying sorry. Stop saying that stuff.” The trolley jammed, one wheel trying to go in the opposite direction to the other three and she shoved it a little harder than she’d intended. Alison wobbled.
“You didn’t have to do that!”
“Never noticed it stopping you.” She’d never yet figured out why, but it was a universal truth that it was impossible to buy two pint cartons of semi-skimmed milk after midnight. Emma sighed and added a four pint carton to her trolley, resigned to pouring most of it down the sink, assuming she remembered before it started turning into cheese.
“Don”t forget the Port Salut.” Alison nodded her head at the counter next to them.
“I can’t stand that stuff. I only used to buy it for you and there’s not much point now, is there?”
Alison’s face fell. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”
“No worse than what you’ve been saying to me since you materialised and made me look like a crazy person in the middle of Tesco.” Apple juice, orange and grapefruit, since Tabraz might be coming for dinner later in the week. Or long life, since he might not bother.
“I’m allowed.”
“Oh really? Why’s that?” She always meant to write a shopping list, but somehow she never remembered. She’d have to do one and leave it by the bed, ready for the next time she couldn’t sleep and had to get out of the house. At least then she wouldn’t have to go back to the supermarket the next day to buy all the things she’d forgotten.
“Special circumstances.” Alison grinned, but there was a touch of sadness to the edges of it. Emma knew how to read her, always had.
“Whatever.” She did know that she needed pasta, she’d used the last of it making carbonara a couple of days ago.
“You didn’t use milk instead of eggs again, did you?” Alison grinned gleefully from the end of the trolley.
“I don’t know why I tell you things some days.” Emma slung a bag of shells into the trolley. “No, I remembered to buy eggs. It wasn’t bad actually. And stop doing that, it freaks me out.”
“That’s the only reason I do it. Got to get my fun somehow. Don’t forget to buy rice.”
Emma stopped, frowning at the other girl. “Do you want to do this for me?” she asked sharply.
“No, no, you go on ahead. I was just trying to help.”
“What do you know, miracles do still happen.” She added a 500 gram packet of basmati rice anyway, ignoring the smirk on Alison’s face.
“Call it one of the perks.”
The trouble with forgetting was that when she did remember, it was worse. Even six months later, the shock of remembering, of talking to Alison and suddenly knowing, was still enough to freeze her, to make her hands shake and her throat close with pain.
And there wasn’t a damn thing either of them could do about it, or at least nothing that they could live with… nothing that she could live with.
“Alison…” Her voice sounded thick with tears, and she felt the cold drop on her cheek when she blinked.
“I know.” Alison reached out, her hand stopping before it got close to Emma’s arm, her face twisted with regret and unhappiness. “I know.”
“I wish –” A hand ghosted across her mouth, stopping the words.
“Don’t say it,” Alison whispered. “Can’t change it, can’t go back. And don’t think this means I’ll forget that you promised to buy decent food.”
“I bought vegetables, what’s more decent than that?” Emma scrubbed a hand across her eyes, ignoring the way her voice shook on the words.
“Food that tastes of something. The kind you eat because you like it, not because it’s recommended by the Health Eating Commission or whatever they’re called this week.”
“Fine. Liquorice All Sorts it is then.”
“I meant chocolate.” Alison made a face, helpless. “Do you know how many additives there are in those?”
“No, and neither do you. Besides, that’s why I’m buying vegetables.” Emma surveyed the contents of her trolley. Just like always, she knew she’d forgotten something and, just like always, she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. She forced the trolley to turn and headed towards the tills.
“Wait, wait, wait, hold on a minute.” Alison held up an imperious hand, dragging one foot on the lino floor, to no discernible effect. “Buy a bottle of wine.”
She stopped. “Why? Who’m I going to drink it with?”
“Doesn’t matter. Drink it by yourself, next time you can’t sleep. Better than going shopping in the middle of the night, only crazy people do that.”
“Explains why I’m talking to you then.” Ignoring Alison’s glare, she grabbed a bottle of Ernst and Young that was reduced to half price. “Happy now?”
“Ecstatic. Nothing better than the idea of getting you drunk.”
“You just say that cos you won’t be around to deal with the hungover part. Hi.”
The till assistant smiled back wanly, and started pushing Emma’s shopping over the scanner, eyes glazing over.
“Honestly, I can’t believe you’re buying broccoli. How anyone can like that stuff is completely beyond me.”
“Would you give it a rest already?” Emma demanded, throwing the offending vegetable onto the conveyor belt.
The assistant glanced up. “Sorry?”
“Oh, no, not you. Sorry.” Emma felt herself flush. “See what…?” She stopped, half-turned back to her friend.
Alison was gone.
She let out a deep sigh of disappointment, and handed over her credit card.
It wasn’t until she was back in her kitchen, unpacking the bags, that she discovered a slab of Cadbury’s Fruit and Nut that she knew she hadn’t put there.
Some things never changed.
