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doppleganger
Dec. 11th, 2004 02:58 pmLast night, I decided to stop at the grocery store on my way home from work because I had a little bit of extra money and the need for several things.
Shopping in general, and food shopping in particular, is something that I rather enjoy (much to the Engineer's dismay, he gets very impatient with me at stores). The spice aisle is something that always draws me, even if I'm not needing anything from there. If left to my own devices, I would stand there for hours. Smelling everything, rolling the glass jars between my hands, reading the exotic names and wondering what I could possibly do with them, attempting to justify spending fifteen dollars on a tiny jar of vanilla bean or saffron.
The Engineer was spending time with the Amazing Larry, and was unable to join me, which suited me just fine. I rather like being by myself, especially when wandering around in a store, and so it didn't bother me.
I was pushing my little cart around a corner, heading towards the funky cheese section (the one that has Queso de Frier, Mexican Frying Cheese!) when the woman in front of me turned her head and spoke. I didn't quite catch what she said, because she quickly caught herself and laughed.
Mistakenly thinking that I was her daughter coming up behind her, she had asked me a question meant for the other girl. I've done this a thousand times before, believing that a companion of mine was right next to me or behind me, saying something over my shoulder to them, then turning to find it was a complete stranger. I smiled and acknowledged the woman's apology with a slight nod, then continued past her.
"Are you Pat's daughter?" She asked to my retreating back.
Turning around, I studied her face. She didn't look like anyone my mother might have known, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. My memory for faces is rather poor and is only trumped by my absolutely spectacularly shitty memory for names.
"I am."
She asked how my father was doing, which I told her he was making me crazy. Which is something that my father always does, no matter what else is going on. He's a good man, but he drives me nuts in a thousand small ways.
The woman continued to prattle on at me, mindlessly making small talk, until I asked her if she knew what had happened with my mom.
"My mother passed away three weeks ago, in November."
Appropriate shock, followed up with questions. All of which I answered. She grew more shocked.
"I didn't even know she had cancer! And I haven't seen very many people over at the house."
Something slowly began to creep around the edges of my brain, picking quietly at my conciousness. tara tara tara pay attention tara tara tara
Then it dawned on me.
I was not who this woman thought I was.
"Hang on a second," I said. "I think you might have the wrong Pat's daughter."
Her eyes flew open and her hands began to flutter on the sides of her shopping cart. "Where do you live?" She asked me.
"Audubon. In an apartment."
She began to laugh nervously. You could tell that she wanted to be amused at the fact that she mistook me for someone else, but was afraid because I had just told her about my mother's death and laughing at the situation would possibly offend me (it wouldn't, but after all, she doesn't know me).
"Well, I'm sorry to hear about your mother. Was she sick for very long?"
This is the part of the conversation where I decided I had had enough. I gave the standard answers I've been rattling out for the past three weeks to people: Yes, she had fought the cancer for three years. No, she wasn't in any more pain when she died. Yes, I'm doing okay. And then I started slowly backing away from her.
"I must say, you look exactly like Pat's daughter!" She said to me and then to her daughter, "Doesn't she look just like Pat's daughter?" The daughter agreed and I smiled faintly at the two of them.
"Have a good night."
I saw them later in the dairy aisle, bickering over cream cheese. Playing my you can't see me i'm invisible you can't see me i'm invisible game, I skittered past them without making eye contact.
The funny thing about the entire situation?
I think they believed me to be Thee Pumpkin Girl.
Shopping in general, and food shopping in particular, is something that I rather enjoy (much to the Engineer's dismay, he gets very impatient with me at stores). The spice aisle is something that always draws me, even if I'm not needing anything from there. If left to my own devices, I would stand there for hours. Smelling everything, rolling the glass jars between my hands, reading the exotic names and wondering what I could possibly do with them, attempting to justify spending fifteen dollars on a tiny jar of vanilla bean or saffron.
The Engineer was spending time with the Amazing Larry, and was unable to join me, which suited me just fine. I rather like being by myself, especially when wandering around in a store, and so it didn't bother me.
I was pushing my little cart around a corner, heading towards the funky cheese section (the one that has Queso de Frier, Mexican Frying Cheese!) when the woman in front of me turned her head and spoke. I didn't quite catch what she said, because she quickly caught herself and laughed.
Mistakenly thinking that I was her daughter coming up behind her, she had asked me a question meant for the other girl. I've done this a thousand times before, believing that a companion of mine was right next to me or behind me, saying something over my shoulder to them, then turning to find it was a complete stranger. I smiled and acknowledged the woman's apology with a slight nod, then continued past her.
"Are you Pat's daughter?" She asked to my retreating back.
Turning around, I studied her face. She didn't look like anyone my mother might have known, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. My memory for faces is rather poor and is only trumped by my absolutely spectacularly shitty memory for names.
"I am."
She asked how my father was doing, which I told her he was making me crazy. Which is something that my father always does, no matter what else is going on. He's a good man, but he drives me nuts in a thousand small ways.
The woman continued to prattle on at me, mindlessly making small talk, until I asked her if she knew what had happened with my mom.
"My mother passed away three weeks ago, in November."
Appropriate shock, followed up with questions. All of which I answered. She grew more shocked.
"I didn't even know she had cancer! And I haven't seen very many people over at the house."
Something slowly began to creep around the edges of my brain, picking quietly at my conciousness. tara tara tara pay attention tara tara tara
Then it dawned on me.
I was not who this woman thought I was.
"Hang on a second," I said. "I think you might have the wrong Pat's daughter."
Her eyes flew open and her hands began to flutter on the sides of her shopping cart. "Where do you live?" She asked me.
"Audubon. In an apartment."
She began to laugh nervously. You could tell that she wanted to be amused at the fact that she mistook me for someone else, but was afraid because I had just told her about my mother's death and laughing at the situation would possibly offend me (it wouldn't, but after all, she doesn't know me).
"Well, I'm sorry to hear about your mother. Was she sick for very long?"
This is the part of the conversation where I decided I had had enough. I gave the standard answers I've been rattling out for the past three weeks to people: Yes, she had fought the cancer for three years. No, she wasn't in any more pain when she died. Yes, I'm doing okay. And then I started slowly backing away from her.
"I must say, you look exactly like Pat's daughter!" She said to me and then to her daughter, "Doesn't she look just like Pat's daughter?" The daughter agreed and I smiled faintly at the two of them.
"Have a good night."
I saw them later in the dairy aisle, bickering over cream cheese. Playing my you can't see me i'm invisible you can't see me i'm invisible game, I skittered past them without making eye contact.
The funny thing about the entire situation?
I think they believed me to be Thee Pumpkin Girl.
