A polite young man from the San Fernando Valley phoned the shoppe one rainy morning and held it up. Rain kills business, so they say, and so it did, all morning. Which is not to say it was a particularly bad morning. I do enjoy the quiet time, savoring the potpourri and thumbing through my Reader’s Digest. A woman eventually did come in, a tad severe in her demeanor, but I didn’t judge. She walked directly to the glass case beneath the register, to our most precious of Moments, the newlyweds and graduates we keep under lock and key.
“I’ll take this one,” she said.
“The little boy with the chocolate smeared on his face! How lovely!” I climbed down from my chair and opened the case. “Would you like this wrapped today? Why don’t you try some of our biscuits there and I’ll get this all wrapped up.”
“Thank you, I will.”
“This must be for someone very special, I can—”
“Jeanette! Jeanette!” Lisa, our newest part-timer, came running out of the back office with the phone. “There’s someone on line one who wants our money!”
“Lisa, I’m with a customer at the moment, it’ll just be a sec.”
“He says it’s a stickup and we need to send him all our money!”
“These biscuits are good,” said the severe-looking woman.
“Aren’t they? That’s real apricot—take another. Lisa, could you wrap this figurine for me?”
Lisa came over, sweating more than I’d like, and I took the phone. “Rosebud Gifts, this is Jeanette, could you hold for one moment? Lisa, the bows are in the drawer. That’s it, the blue one. Yes?”
“Send me all your money.” The words were direct enough but the voice was soft, shy, inviting of a conversation even if the young man on the other side didn’t seem to want one.
“My, oh my! Who may I ask is calling?”
“Nevermind who’s calling. Send me all your money.”
“Yes, sir, of course. I’ve never been held up before so—hold on a sec. Thanks for coming in! Enjoy your miniaturette! Sorry. I’ve never been held up before so you’ll have to walk me through this. Although I did imagine if it were to happen, it would happen in person.”
“I’d get caught if I did it in person.”
“Yes, I suppose you would.”
“And now you can’t call the police ‘cause the line’s tied up.”
“Very clever.”
“Go get an envelope.”
“Ok. A business-sized envelope?”
“The biggest you’ve got.”
“Lisa, go into the back office and get one of the manilas.”
“Wait—is there someone else with you?”
“Yes, I always work with Lisa on Thursdays.”
“Well, tell her to get down—and with her hands behind her back.”
“Lisa, the young man wants you to lie down. If you could just grab one of those manilas and then lie down—and with your hands behind your back.”
“Now empty your till.”
“Let’s see, I’m not sure how to enter this in. Shall we just say it’s a No Sale and I’m getting you quarters?”
“Just take out the money!”
“Right, I’ve got the envelope.”
“Good. Put all the money in it.”
“All of it? Gosh.” I had Lisa hold the manila above her head while I shook the drawer into it. “Alrightey, it’s all in there.”
“Seal it up. And address it.”
“Will do. Just have to find a pen. I’m addressing this to—who am I addressing this to?”
“To—damnit! Evan Kowalski.”
“Evan! I almost named my son Evan.”
“24 Orange Grove Place. Woodland Hills, CA. 91302.”
“Wood…land…Hills. CA. CA? That’s in California!”
“Yes.”
“That’s the other side of the country!”
“I can’t hold up a shop in my own town!”
“No, but California. Wow. Where in California are you?”
“The San Fernando Valley.”
“Well I’ll be. You know I have a son-in-law comes from that area. I’ve never been myself. Is the sun everything they say it is?”
“Did you address the envelope?!”
“What do you do down there in the San Fernando Valley?”
“…I’m a student.”
“Oh, how wonderful. What is your area of study?”
“Botany.”
“Fascinating! And do you know what you want to do after you graduate?”
“No.”
“Well, that’s fine. You know, I didn’t know what I wanted to do when I was—”
“My health insurance runs out.”
“—your age and everything worked out just fine so don’t you worry.”
“My health insurance runs out.”
“What’s that?”
“When I graduate, next month, there’s no more health insurance.”
“Oh, companies normally take care of that sort of thing. I remember when I—”
“Do you know of any openings for a botanist?”
“Well…”
“I get sick all the time. They’re about to kick me out on the street and I’m gonna get sick!”
“There must free clinics in the San Fernando Valley.”
“I’ve been coddled and mollycoddled and now it’s skid row, the cold nights, the whores, the hypodermics, and all without health insurance!”
“No, that doesn’t sound good.”
“Not to mention the shelter and food I used to get. Where is it now? I need money!”
“Have you thought about teaching?”
“Don’t try making up excuses and giving me advice.”
“Sorry.”
“All this future living, it’s blind tightrope walking! They gave me a line, it moves forward and forward, over and ever forward and suddenly, at the drop of a hat, they’re taking the net! I’m falling and the only thing provided is the cement floor that turns my body into a half-inch layer of blood and crushed bone! And no health insurance!”
“I’m sorry.” I was touched
“Put it in overnight,” and the young man hung up.
The electronic chimes went off and another woman, not as severe as the one before but similar capris, came into the shoppe. “I’m looking for a figurine,” she said, “it’s a little boy, his face is covered in chocolate?”
Dazed, I said, “What? Chocolate? Oh no, I’m afraid we just sold that one.”
“Shoot. That’s too bad. Why is that woman on the floor?”
“Hmm? Oh, Lisa, get up. Run this envelope through the postage machine. Is there any thing else I can help you with today?
“I’ll take a quick spin around.”
“Jeanette! The envelope’s too big, it won’t fit!”
“Just put stamps on it!”
“How many?”
“All of them!”
“Are these soaps handcrafted?” asked the woman.
“We’re out of stamps!” screamed Lisa.
“Soaps? Uh, yes, I think so. How can we be out of stamps?”
“You two sure are busy today.”
“We were robbed. Um, can you go to the post office?”
“Robbed! Did anyone get hurt?”
“No, he did it over the phone.”
“There’s no time for the post office! He’ll call back!”
“I don’t understand. Over the phone?”
Lisa was jumping up and down. “What do we do? What do we do?”
“Yes,” I said. “From California.”
“California! Well, don’t send it!”
“What?”
“He’ll come to our windows at night!”
“And he was so polite! We have to send it!”
“He’ll look at us through our windows at night!”
“Suit yourself. I do like these soaps.”
The electronic chimes went off again. A woman dragged her sons inside. They started running around, touching things. I looked to Lisa. She still had the package in her hand.
“Excuse me,” a woman approached me, “I saw a card in here a couple weeks ago. There might have a dog on it. Do you still have that one? Douglas! Did you-? If my boys break anything, what is your policy on that?”
“Well…”
Lisa slid the envelope under the counter and bit her lip. I bit my lip. We walked onto the floor and helped our customers—so much for the rain.
We take the phone off the hook now. The envelope is still under the counter. Our till is filled with new money. But something is missing. The shoppe moves on, over and ever on, but something like the floor is missing.
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