🏹 Simon's holidays
Part 2: Shopping at the supermarket
⚠️ This is a work of fiction
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Tuesday goes by, but I think a lot about the decision I made the day before. Did I make the right choice? I've asked myself the question many times, and the same answer keeps coming back when I think about getting my console at the end of the holidays.
Certainly, I'll have to go through this week. It won't necessarily be a walk in the park, even though it's still a daycare center. I also need to be careful not to reveal myself; I would have made all these efforts for nothing.
Without mentioning that I was going, I asked my friends if they were going to a daycare center for the holidays, and none of them are, thankfully. Tony told me that only babies go there... it was a bit hurtful, but well, I think the same, actually.
Wednesday morning arrives, and during breakfast with Dad, he reminds me of our appointment.
I haven't forgotten," I say. "Perfect, then. We have an appointment at 2 PM, but we'll go shopping around noon, I'll pick you up from school, and then we can eat at Burger King if you want." "Oh yes, great, it's been a while."
The morning feels long, very long indeed. The two hours of math are endless, not to mention the German and French classes. The school bell rings, and my friends and I leave the classroom and the schoolyard.
"Aren't you taking the bus?" Théo asks. "No, I'm having lunch in town with my dad." "Lucky you."
Well, maybe I'm lucky to have a burger for lunch, but not so much to go to that appointment. But I can't tell him that, of course.
"See you tomorrow, Théo." "See you tomorrow, Simon."
Dad is already here, and I get into the car. We head to the nearest shopping center, which houses a hypermarket and a Burger King.
"What are we going to buy?" I ask. "Diapers," Dad responds matter-of-factly. "What, right now? Here? In broad daylight? Couldn't you have done it without me?" "We're buying diapers for you, so you need to be here." I now understand why you suggested going to Burger King afterward... I hope we won't run into anyone I know; that would be too embarrassing. "We'll be careful, I promise."
Once we enter the shopping mall and then the supermarket, we immediately look for the diaper aisle.
When we find it, much to my dismay, we're not the only ones there. There's quite a crowd! It's as if everyone decided to do their shopping on the same day at the same time.
I quickly scan the area for familiar faces, but thankfully, there's no one I recognize. Among the people present, several are mothers with their children, and they're selecting diapers. I spot several diaper packages in their shopping carts.
Dad, on the other hand, starts searching among the hundreds of diaper packages. He approaches, takes some packages in his hands, and puts them back after reading them. I cautiously stay away to avoid any association with me.
"Simon, come closer and help me, please. We shouldn't spend all day here. You know, the longer we stay, the higher the chances of someone you know seeing us," Dad advises.
He has a point; what he says is true. So, I start looking as well. After three minutes of searching without any luck, Dad tells me he'll find someone to assist us.
I'm not thrilled about it, of course, but what else can we do? Maybe there are no diapers for my age, at least not here.
He returns promptly, accompanied by a saleswoman.
"They're right here," she says to Dad, pointing. "You mentioned that there were several models and brands, didn't you?" "Yes, that's correct. It's for an 11-year-old child." "Um, Dad, that was absolutely unnecessary."
"So, you need a model for older children, for boys. Here's what I suggest," she says, taking a package from the shelf and handing it to Dad.
Dad takes it in his hands and examines it. I can read the word "Drynites" on it.
"I think I've seen advertisements on TV for these diapers. Excuse me, I don't know much about this, but aren't these for nighttime?" "They work just fine during the day, no problem." "And are you sure about the size?" "Absolutely. Look here; it's written that it's suitable for children aged 8 to 15. Your son is right within that age range. Just be cautious the next time you buy them; the packaging for other sizes is quite similar." "That seems to fit what we're looking for." "Oh, but wait, we've recently stocked a new brand of diapers, Carryboo. It's similar to Drynites, and we've had very positive customer feedback. Here, take a look; it's this package." "What do you think, Simon?" Dad asks. "Which one should we get?"
I feel a little ashamed, or actually quite a lot. But who cares? A diaper is a diaper. Dad shows me the two packages he's holding. I quickly glance at them and feel like the second package looks less "diaper-like" because it doesn't have any designs on it.
"The second package," I say.
"Thank you for your help, madam," Dad says. "I'll take these."
While saying that, Dad puts the first package back on the shelf.
"Thank you. Have a good day, both of you, and good luck to you, young man," she adds with a smile.
Grrrr, what am I doing here?
"Alright, should I just take one package?" "I don't know, whatever," I say, turning around to see if anyone is eavesdropping. "Yeah, one is enough."
Dad and I head towards the exit. He opts for the self-checkout, which is great because I wouldn't have wanted that diaper package on the conveyor belt with other people's groceries.
Dad holds the package between his arm and body, which partially hides the label. I have the feeling he's doing his best to spare me the embarrassment.
The self-checkout lanes are occupied, but the line moves quickly. In less than two minutes of waiting, a lane opens up for us.
Dad scans the package and places it in the bagging area. He proceeds to make the payment and retrieves both the package and the receipt. I'm right behind him when we pass through the security gate, and suddenly it starts beeping.
Both of us halt in our tracks and wait for someone to come over. Dad is still holding the diaper package, and I sense that people are looking at us.
A security guard arrives promptly and asks Dad for his receipt. He examines it, glances at the diaper package, and then looks back at us.
Did he realize that these diapers were for me? I'm not sure, but in any case, he tells us we can go. Phew, that didn't last long.
"Let's go eat that burger," Dad says. "You've earned it. I'm proud of you."
I don't really feel like I've done something praiseworthy, but oh well.
A few dozen meters ahead is the Burger King; I can see it from where I'm standing. We start walking, and I realize that Dad is bringing the diaper package with us.
"But we don't even have a bag to put the diapers in. Aren't we going to take it inside?" I ask.
"It doesn't even look like a diaper package. No one will notice. We'll just place it on the seat."
Well, I hope he's right, but it's true that this package doesn't look like the diaper packages we were looking at in the store.
When we reach the restaurant, it's the peak of lunch hour, and there are quite a few people. However, I can see that there are still some empty tables.
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