12
Who's that?
Tegan sat in our shopping cart pointing to a stout man in his 20s. He was standing a few feet away in the dairy aisle looking at creamer options.
He was a bit heavy-set, had two-day scruff and thick brown hair, a gray wool hat pulled over his ears. He turned toward us, hearing Tegan's question.
"That's a man," I said.
He grinned unabashedly and walked toward us, looked at me like we were friends, like Tegan was a niece or sister.
He didn't say anything, just stopped next to our cart, pulled his hat over his face, then quickly lifted it to expose a gleeful expression.
"Peek-a-boo!" he said.
We all laughed. He continued to pull down his hat and lift it, pull down and lift, each time revealing a softness, unrestrained innocence and joy.
He didn't seem to notice how close he was standing to us, that Tegan began to look at him a bit quizzically. She wasn't used to a stranger being so forthcoming.
We didn't exchange words, just shared in this moment of play and lightheartedness, of finding happiness in connecting with a child.
And then I saw you running -- jogging, really -- as you rushed toward us with your full cart of groceries. You looked panicked, like you were expecting something bad to happen.
"I'm sorry," you said and parked your cart next to mine. You sighed, looked at me like you'd just delivered bad news.
"Oh, no, don't be sorry!" I said. But you were already turning your cart, telling the man to follow you.
You didn't make much eye contact, just looked ahead as you wove through the expanse of shoppers, pushed on as the man slowly followed behind. He looked over his shoulder to smile and wave at us, put his hands over his eyes and then remove them in one final peek-a-boo.
"Say bye-bye, Tegan," I said.
"Bye," she said softly, looking shy. She offered a gentle wave after you'd both turned the corner.
A part of me wanted to follow you.
I wanted to tell you that you didn't have to apologize, that nothing had gone wrong. The man had been kind, expressed joy in seeing my daughter.
To The
Woman Who Apologized
to Me at the Supermarket
By: Rachael Clarke