Chapter 2: Karen vs The Supermarket
Upon seeing the banana prices outside a local grocery store, Karen received a rude awakening. They were even higher than in the supermarket! Sure, they seemed to be a smidge better in quality, but if she bought a kilogram of these, she would have to only buy half a kilogram of grapes and that simply would not do. If Kyle punched one more hole in the wall, Karen was sure the wall would crumble and the ceiling would fall on top of him.
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She weighed her options. Would it be worth it to drive to a cheaper grocery store? How much did petrol cost that day?
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Eventually, she compromised and pulled a couple of bananas off the bunch to make it lighter. Keeping Kyle’s hunger for grapes satiated was much more important than some bananas.
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She went inside the store to pay for groceries, grumbling about the prices to the poor woman at the register.
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The sun was just beginning to set when Karen was done with all her shopping. Her back was sore from hunching over a desk all day, made worse by carrying the grocery bags to her car. Once she was home, she ordered her children to help her put away the groceries. Sharon and Carol didn’t bother but Kyle joined her.
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‘About bloody time,’ Karen said.
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Kyle opened one of the bags, picked a single grape and popped it in his mouth. ‘Just here for these,’ he claimed, though he continued helping.
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Karen pulled out a pack of energy drink cans. ‘And these?’
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Kyle snatched it from her. ‘And these.’
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‘How was school?’
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‘Alright. Boring. Keith said he’ll let me borrow his copy of Code of Revenge: Gears of The Soldier.’
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‘Is that a g-’
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‘Yep.’
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Karen fell silent. Her knowledge of video games was limited to what she heard on the news, not nearly enough to carry a conversation about them.
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All she managed to say was, ‘Uh, that’s nice. Just make sure you don’t stay up too late playing it.’
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Ah, the classic line when you don’t know how to talk to your children about video games.
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‘Oh, and Kyle, give me your pocket knife. I know you bought one.’
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‘But mum-’
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‘I don’t want that game influencing you!’
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‘It’s for self-defence!’
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‘Why would you need that?’
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Kyle kicked one of the grocery bags on the floor. ‘You know what? Put this shit away yourself.’ He stormed back to his room and shook the frame as he slammed the door shut.
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‘Hey, come back!’ Karen shouted. No response. The ache in Karen’s back got worse as she leaned down to pick up items from grocery bags herself. Her arms were too weak to lift an entire bag onto the kitchen bench, which would have lessened the strain of leaning down.
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The following week, Karen tried another grocery store. The prices were better but the selection was downright embarrassing. There was none of the variety promised by living in the great capitalist landscape of Australia. Karen was sorely disappointed.
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Of course, Karen had to make this disappointment known to the cashier. ‘I may as well live in Russia if I’m getting this little choice.’ The cashier had no choice but to laugh awkwardly and grit her bared teeth.
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When Karen looked into the half-empty boot, devoid of many of the groceries she needed, she knew enough was enough. She winced at the thought but could no longer avoid a simple truth: she had to return to that supermarket.
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As she drove home, she considered how to avoid that manager and decided to shop on a different day. For the first time in a while, she grinned.
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That grin did not survive the following week’s shopping trip. Frema Nazarian, that beautiful witch, was at the supermarket, albeit as just another shopper. She wore a tight red shirt, scandalous high-waisted pale lemon shorts and a form-fitting blazer the colour of sand.
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And, of course, the witch smirked upon seeing Karen. ‘I must have misheard you a few weeks ago. I thought you said something along the lines of ‘I’m never coming back here again!’ Did you actually say something else?’
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Blood scorched rapidly through Karen’s veins. ‘I’m not here for you.’
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Frema raised an eyebrow. ‘When did I suggest that?’
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That boiling blood went straight to Karen’s cheeks. That dumb vixen must have cursed her with her luscious lips and spellbinding eyes!
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‘Uh, that… you just seemed like the kind of person to think about something like that. And why are you being so rude to a customer?’
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‘I’m not on the clock, am I?’ Frema asked as she pulled a jar of instant coffee from a shelf. A strong, agonisingly palpable desire nestled in Karen’s heart, eager to be quenched. This desire? To one-up Frema.
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She reached up towards an even higher shelf on the opposite side of the aisle. Alas, she was too short to pick up the packet of biscuits. Frema saw Karen’s flailing arm and grabbed the item for her, gracefully placing it in Karen’s trolley.
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Karen snatched the biscuit packet from the trolley and held it up to her chest like she was guarding it with her life. She stared at this audacious succubus with wide eyes that popped out of their sockets.
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Upon realising how ridiculous she must have looked, she put the packet back in the trolley.
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‘It’s not like your customer service was great even when you were working,’ she said.
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‘I apologise.’
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‘Thank y-’
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‘I should have magically been transferred to both the marketing department and the accounting department so I could change the prices of bananas for you.’
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‘Surely you’re allowed to give discounts!’
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A few shoppers turned their heads to witness this loud argument.
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Frema put her hands on her hips, swishing her blazer behind her. Karen noticed. ‘On what grounds would I give you a discount?’
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‘Y-you… have a nice jacket!’
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Karen scrunched her lips inside her mouth like she had just drunk unsweetened lemonade, her entire face now the colour of raspberries. Frema froze, as did the shoppers. Karen mulled over ways she could dig a hole in the ground to die in without breaking the pipes down below.
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Frema’s laugh was perhaps the ugliest laugh possible, a nasal cackle with plenty of snorting. Yet, somehow, it was also the sweetest laugh Karen had ever heard. A few customers grew bored of the deflated conflict and resumed their shopping.
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‘I’ll tell you what,’ Frema said in between laughs. ‘I’ll give you 1 per cent off per compliment. Do we have a deal?’
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Karen crossed her arms and looked beside her at the seemingly mocking smiles of the various brand mascots. At least their stares didn’t embarrass her as much as Frema’s beautifully horrendous giggling.
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‘I meant to say I should get a widow’s discount,’ she admitted.
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Frema wiped a tear from her eye and held back the dregs of her laughter. ‘I’m sorry for your loss. I don’t know how you got from widow’s discount to how good my jacket looks, but hey, I’ll take it.’
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Karen glared at Frema. ‘Well, enjoy your one compliment. It’s all you’re getting.’
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‘Shame. I have a whole collection of these blazers at home. All different colours.’
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Karen thought to ask if she had a collection of shorts no one her age should wear, but she held her tongue and returned her gaze to the mascots on the shelf.
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‘I’m Frema, by the way.’
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‘Karen.’
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Frema went back to her task of putting items in her trolley. She looked for a symbol on an instant coffee jar and groaned when it wasn’t there.
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‘Don’t tell the higher-ups that I’m complaining, but there really should be more kosher stuff here,’ she murmured.
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Karen whipped her head towards Frema. She felt a twinge of disappointment that Frema wasn’t Christian, though she had a feeling when she first heard her foreign-sounding name.
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Wait, why was she disappointed? It wasn't like, if Frema was a Christian like Karen, they could…
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Karen blinked quickly and her cheeks somehow got even hotter. Why was she even entertaining this idea? Hell, what idea was she even entertaining?
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‘Are you okay?’ Frema asked, getting just a little too close to Karen’s face.
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‘I’m perfectly fine. I was just surprised. You don’t exactly-’
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‘Look Jewish? Yeah, that’s probably because I’m a Mizrahi Jew.’ She pulled a necklace chain out from underneath her shirt, revealing a Star of David pendant. ‘Persian, to be exact, though my mum was born in Israel.’ Frema chuckled, though the sound took on a bitter tone. ‘Sorry I don’t look like Woody Allen.’
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‘I’m sorry.’
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‘All good. I’m used to it. Shouldn’t be, but I am. But hey, I managed to get an apology from you. That’s a start.’
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Karen started pushing her trolley as Frema chatted about various topics, also pushing her trolley. Frema was surprisingly talkative and Karen was content to listen because, every so often, her laughter would come out. Karen found herself grinning ear to ear every time she heard it.
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By the end of their shopping trip, the corners of Karen’s mouth had lowered completely. A realisation dropped two tonnes’ worth of bricks onto her heart.
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