Find the Right Line
Very muchly belated b-day NON-smut for @madnanc - here’s to finding the right line.
***
It was remarkable, Cosima thought, how there was no avoiding checkout lines in life, not even when you find yourself buying emergency tampons at 2AM. There was surely a pithy aphorism to be gleaned in this somewhere.
What was also remarkable is that at least 4 of the dozen or so checkout counters were manned at this late hour, but only one seemed to be actually helping shoppers. She approached the bank of registers wearily, handles of her basket digging into the crook of her elbow, and eyed the first cashier. The woman was tall and lanky, dark hair cropped short, and was cackling quietly into her phone.
Cosima approached, then halted as the cashier raised a questioning eyebrow in her direction, then shook her head. Cosima glanced at the light above the register which indicated that the line should be open, but only received a jerk of the cashier's thumb, pointing her to the next register.
"People, man." She muttered, ambling to the next register in line, this one occupied by a short Latina. Cosima perked up, encouraged by the cashier's open, mischievous expression. She exhaled in relief, hefting her basket. Her ice cream was not going to stay frozen forever.
"Ay, no," dark-eyed cashier raised her hands at Cosima, palms out, then pointed to the next cashier.
"But," Cosima protested, pointing at the light above the register.
"Nem." The cashier managed an apologetic shrug, the mane of her dark hair cascading across her shoulders, but still shook her head in denial.
"I don't-"
"Nyet." The cashier produced a tiny dog, plopped it on the scanner and started brushing it.
"You're seriousl-"
"Not even a finger, sorry. Next register's open, though. Ciao!"
"Unbelievable!" Cosima stalked away, feeling her Purple Haze mellow evaporate harshly. It wasn't like that song at all - she couldn't check out any time she wanted.
She crossed over to the next in the interminable line of registers, one of the two remaining with 'in service' lights on. A disbelieving chuckle escaped involuntarily when she faced the cashier sitting behind it, a short-haired woman with glasses.
"You have.. a typewriter out. Like, a genuine, honest to god typewriter, just," she faltered, at a loss, "... and you're typing away. Seriously?"
The woman looked at her blankly, fingers hovering over the keys, a sheath of paper hanging over the typewriter carriage.
"Right. Should I just-," Cosima jerked her thumb in the direction of the next register. "Yeah, yeah, got it. Golden. Perfect."
This was a joke of some kind, one of those old-timey TV shows no one watches any more, with unsuspecting dopes challenged by a ridiculous setup, unknowingly followed by a camera. Except she was on the rag, slowly bleeding through her last tampon, and willing to kill for the first bite of her rapidly melting Chunky Monkey.
"I just wanna find a damn line I can stand in, like a good citizen, pay for my tampons and-"
If it were a movie, the surrounding lights would dim, leaving a sole beam trained on the apparition before her, and a chorus of angels would vocalize their awe as they beheld the glory, the beauty that stood at the checkout line #5.
Her blonde hair was up in a messy bun, a few escaped tendrils framing a smiling, lovely face. She was focused on the customer at her register, arms gracefully moving and scanning the items on the conveyor belt as she kept up friendly banter. Cosima swallowed, then stepped up to the line, silently sending a thank you to all the other lazy, unhelpful, rude cashiers that sent her in this direction.
Soon - the beautiful blonde stranger, in start contrast to her deadbeat co-workers, was efficient - it was nearly Cosima's turn, and she stepped up to the register belt, emptying her basket. This close, she could see the crinkles at the corners of the cashier's eyes as she smiled, the beauty mark just below her lower lip, could hear the clear, lovely tone of her laughter. "Delphine," she tried the name written on the name tag quietly to herself, "Delphine."
The belt moved silently, sliding her groceries closer to the cashier, and Cosima followed in lockstep, eyes never leaving the cashier's face.
Delphine.
Then the last item of the customer in front of her was bagged, and the cashier - Delphine - took a languorous stretch, arms raised, before sitting back down on the stool behind the register and smiling at Cosima.
"Hello. Did you find everything you needed tonight?"
Her eyes were caramel and warm, and her lips glistened slightly under the harsh fluorescent lighting, and Cosima found herself dazedly nodding in agreement. "Yeah. Totally."
Delphine glanced at the items laid out at the register, and as a blonde eyebrow went up at the selection, Cosima paled with belated realization.
"You, uhm, having a rough night?" The smile was sympathetic rather than pitying, as the first box of her OB Ultra Absorbency tampons beeped at the scanner and went into a shopping bag.
Cosima opened her mouth, then closed it after a long moment of silence. She cleared her throat as another box of tampons went into the bag and tried again.
"Um, yeah, yeah." Could it get worse? She was about to find out. "I, um, got mowed down by Aunt Flo and realized I was out of tampons, got ignored by every single cashier in here, my ice cream is melting, and now I have a gorgeous woman scanning my unmentionables. Pretty high on the embarrassment scale, I'd say."
Delphine paused, holding aloft a sweating pint of Ben&Jerry's. "Aunt Flo?"
Cosima snorted, waving her hand.
_That's what she focused on? "It's a silly expression. Means I got my period. You, um, sound.. French?"
"Ah," Delphine nodded, slowly lowering the ice cream, unscanned, into her bag. "I am."
Before Cosima could point out her mistake, the blonde leaned in slightly across the counter, lowering her voice in confidentiality. "I, ah, also have something embarrassing to share."
Cosima unconsciously leaned in response, mesmerized. Delphine bit her lower lip in a most distracting manner, eyes lowered, seemingly hesitant to continue. Cosima waited a beat, two, eyes trained on soft lips then blurted out in a strangled whisper. "What is it?"
Those eyes - hazel, she thought hazily - were on her again, and then Delphine took a deep breath. "Ah... well, the truth is, I told my coworkers not to help you, so you could come to this register."
Cosima stared at her blankly. She blinked. All the words she'd just heard made sense individually, but the actual sentence was indecipherable.
Delphine continued quietly, her eyes back on the counter between them. "I, um, wanted a chance to meet you. I'd seen you here a few times before, but neve-"
"Uh, no." Cosima shook her head adamantly, interrupting her. "Nnnno, you couldn't have. Cause, then I would have seen you, and I'd definitely remember that so, no."
This brought a small smile and something that looked like relief to Delphine's face. "I am not usually behind the register. I'm, um, a floor manager and so I mainly just stay upstairs and pitch in as needed." She smiled again. "And you're always on your phone when you're here, which is remarkable given that you seem to do your shopping only between midnight and three."
Cosima cocked her head to the side, her brain finally processing received information. "You wanted to meet me?"
Delphine took in another deep breath then nodded vigorously. "Yes. I overheard you berating your lab partner once for messing up the polymer cell cultures*, and figured out you're also a biology grad."
Cosima cringed, recalling the early-morning phone drubbing she'd given Scott, around the same time in her cycle and shortly after she realized the store was out of her favorite Cheetos flavor.
"And, um, I know you like the B52s," Cosima's eyebrows shot up, "since I saw you dancing to Love Shack in the cereal aisle one night, and, um." Delphine paused delicately, "I know you're single."
Cosima groaned, hiding her face her hands at the thought of what kind of a one-sided overheard conversation gave Delphine that information. "This is so embarr-"
Her head snapped up, eyes locked on Delphine's. "Wait, so you arranged this whole thing," her arm vaguely circled the space around them, "so you could meet me?"
Delphine smiled patiently, encouragingly. "Yes. And, um, my shift ended 30 minutes ago."
Cosima leaned on one leg, cocking her hip, first tendrils of giddiness rising up through her chest. She looked around - indeed, the entire line of open registers was humming busily to the left of them, each cashier which had previously dismissed her was now engaged with a customer. The peppy Latina gave her a thumbs up when she caught her eye, and someone had even crept up and placed a 'line closed' sign on the conveyor belt behind her at some point.
"And, wait," she held up a questioning finger, "you're also a student at U.T.?"
Delphine nodded again. "Yes, working on my PhD in Parasite/Host Relationships. And, ah," she opened her arms, motioning toward her uniform, "a part-time floor manager at EHW at night."
Cosima smiled, her full, broad, Cheshire-cat smile of the evening. "And you said your shift just ended?"
Delphine smiled back, less shyly, and nodded.
Cosima grinned, euphoric. "Would you be up for--"
"Yes. Yes, I would."
And so they did.
* Utter gibberish.
