She was a beautiful young woman: long, slender legs, trim hips, mid-length blonde hair with streaks of darker color crafted at a beauty shop. The blue fleece running suit reminded him of a soft velour, inviting to the touch. She had the top unzipped enough to reveal a bit of cleavage: tan, firm, healthy skin. Were those a few freckles? Full lips and a very “American” face. Not the girl next door; he’d never have been that lucky. Maybe the girl two blocks over that you’d see once in awhile and wonder who she was, how she got to be so beautiful.
“Do you have a dog or a cat?” he asked. She was just ahead of him in the checkout line with a small bag labeled “Beneful.” He recalled it was a brand of pet food. At ten o’clock in the evening, the Safeway was fairly deserted, palates in the aisles and empty shelves in the cooler where the whole milk for his morning latte should have been. He had picked up a few other items and headed to the cashiers. He invariably chose the slowest line: some dictum of nature and social function he seemed to have mastered, or not. Seeing her, the choice this time was easy. He would be visually entertained; the length of his wait would be inconsequential. He looked at her again. Maybe his penchant for picking the longest line would work for him. Sometimes longer was better.
“A dog,” she said. “Just a little Jack Russell Terrier. My boyfriend forgot to buy dog food, so here I am.” Her last words referenced the unusual time and place. There was an easy, unhurried aspect to the setting – quite different from the usual bang and bustle of a six-in-the-evening Safeway. She smiled; was she glad for the company? Having no cart, she placed the package on the belt.
“Does he like that?” he asked, glancing at the bag. He bought a different brand from a pet food store for Mallory, the miniature poodle he and his daughters got to help his wife through empty nest syndrome. Of course, the majority of the dog’s care fell to him, as Lauren worked full time at the other end of a long commute. Here they had found a measure of kinship already: they both got sent out to buy dog food. “Here honey, fetch!”
As they waited for the person ahead to finish her transaction, he followed the contours of her body once again. Such beauty, yet unassuming. Firm, strong legs he could wrap his hands around. Inviting contours of her breasts beneath the sweats; a lovely neckline he could trace from collar to the lobe of her ear. He guessed she was somewhere between 22 and 25: a visual feast. Every once in awhile, nature would surprise him. He loved to be so pleasantly surprised.
She looked around the store in a way that implied awareness of someone who might be looking at her. Well, why not keep it going, he thought? “Is your Terrier a big dog?”
She awakened into animation. “No, he’s a small little dog, but full of energy. He chases the cows all day. He’s only two, and feisty. He gets into everything.” She rolled her eyes playfully.
Castro Valley was a town without cityhood, an unincorporated anomaly in a busy San Francisco Bay Area. He recalled their first year in residence, amazed to find himself in a parade down main street with the Nursery School parents and kids. Horses and a rodeo were part of the festivities. Twenty years later, there was still a saddlery in town; ranches dotted the roads extending east into the hills.
Perhaps this young woman was a ranch girl, born and raised down Palomares Road. What would that life have been like? He smiled back at her. The fresh air and open space seemed to have suited her well.
The check stand cleared; the belt moved; she slid along to engage the cashier. He loaded his things onto the belt but maintained a certain distance from her. Was that from a respect for their differing stations in life, he wondered; or his shyness; or because he was freer to look her over a few steps back? Respectfully, he appreciated her with a last glance that lingered into a smile. Gotta love the work of Nature.
As she completed her purchase, he felt her awareness again. She seemed appreciative of the … not just company for a deserted night at Safeway … but attention. Attention of whom? It surprised him to think that she enjoyed his interest in her. He supposed it was flattering, yet there was more. Was a young girl — a young woman — curious about all the life experiences that his age implied? Did she wonder about life beyond the fences, the big world out there? Did she ever let her sense of fantasy take her past the limits of her young country man, imagining a level of sophistication, adventure and sensuality – a level that may have already past him by? A quick smile, a glance, and she was off.
As he left the store, missing her already, he realized that he had enjoyed the attention too. If only for a few precious minutes, he had been twenty years younger, rekindling a feeling that was too often lost beneath domestic covers. The night air was cool, fresh; still, he felt warmed by an exchange that had reached across a generation, touching him at some basic level where gender defined and at a higher, cultivated level where beauty was appreciated in full. Looking up at the night sky, he whispered to himself, “Gotta love that Nature.”