Cantaloupe Hell
by Sophia Darlow Valencia
It was a particularly ugly day for summer. Diya sat at her counter, staring at the clock on the wall. Her shift would end at 6:00 p.m., and if she left at exactly 6:05, she’d get home before the rain started.
Her mom told her to get a job that summer, that it’d be good to have some experience in the workforce before graduating. She’d spent so many days looking at that stupid clock in the little produce shop. Ten more minutes, just ten, she told herself.
After spending a while in a place, you start to hate your surroundings. She hated the little bell above the door; she hated the overpriced packs of mango in the fridge; she hated the newspapers pinned to the wall behind her; and she hated that little bobblehead hula dancer that sat at her counter.
The owner placed her there one day, saying “She’s hot. Isn’t she?” Out of boredom, Diya decided she was named Helga. Her smiling mouth was the gateway to hell. All evil lived in her belly, swaying back and forth.
Despite it all, there was one thing she didn’t hate.
“It’s funny how we get so few customers whenever the weather gets bad.”
Mindy. She walked over to the counter from the box of cans she was meant to stack. She’d been working there longer than Diya, despite not doing much work. If it were someone else slacking off, Diya’d be pissed, but it was Mindy. She was special.
“Like okay, I guess a bit of rain means no one needs clementines anymore.”
Diya chuckled. “Yeah. Guess it’s just not the most pleasant walk.” She bit her lip and looked at the floor. “That doesn’t really matter for us though, right?”
“Hm?”
“We still have to come to work, even if nobody’s here. The store could be attacked by zombies and we’d still have to work. The pay’s not even worth it.”
Mindy giggled, sending a flush to Diya’s face. “You’re always thinking so hard about these things.”
“...Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay! It’s cute.”
The word “cute” is versatile. It can be used to describe someone attractive, but also to describe things like pets and small children. Diya knew Mindy meant it as the latter, but at the end of the day, it was the same word. That’s all that mattered.
“So…I’m super sorry, but something really important came up,” Mindy said, a small pout on her face. She moved to lean on the counter with both hands, towering over Diya. “You wouldn’t mind taking my shift for me, would you?”
Mindy was pretty in a way that was nauseating, and Diya was stupid.
“I don’t mind,” she replied, staring down at the red polish on Mindy's fingernails.
Mindy beamed, bending over to squeeze her in her arms. “Aw, you’re the best!” she squealed.
Mindy always smelled like coconut and vanilla. Diya thought about trying to memorize the scent, about holding on tight and never letting go, but she didn't. She reached to graze her fingers against Mindy’s auburn hair, but she was too slow. Mindy pulled away to grab her bags, leaving the ghost of her perfume on Diya’s clothes.
“Thanks, babe! I totally owe you!” she said before disappearing out the door.
Diya waved pathetically. “Bye.”
Staring out the store window, she watched as beautiful Mindy walked over to a boy in a leather jacket. She planted a kiss on his lips as he wrapped his arms around her waist.
She tore her eyes away from the scene. Yeah, she thought. Seems about right.
The bobblehead bobbled.
“Don’t mock me, Helga.”
The bell above the door rang as a man walked inside. Tall, with white skin painted deep red by the unforgiving sun. The clock read 7:30. Thirty more minutes. The only thing Diya wanted to think about was leaving. She thought of eating leftovers with her mother, lying on her lap, with a movie playing.
Thoughts of home were interrupted when the man dumped a cantaloupe on the counter. “I want this.”
“Okay,” she mumbled. While going to scan it, the man raised a hand and gestured to the left side of her hair.
“You dyed half your hair orange,” he said, as if this were some profound discovery. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” she responded. She didn’t feel like explaining that a certain someone always came to work with a clementine in hand. “Just felt like it, I guess.”
“Aren’t you worried that you look like some kind of delinquent?” he remarked. “Especially with all those holes in your ears.”
When customers made her angry, she’d imagine a large wolf pouncing on them. It’d calm her down enough to keep her from losing her job. A job that she didn’t even like.
“That’ll be $3.99, sir,” she said. “How would you like to pay?”
The man rummaged through his wallet and pulled out a small envelope. “Here,” he grumbled. “Gift card.”
Diya was sure they didn’t sell gift cards. She grabbed the envelope. It read, “To Derek, happy birthday man!” Inside was a gift card, but not for their store.
Diya sighed. “I’m sorry, sir. This is a Shoppers gift card. You can’t use that here.”
“Yes, I can.”
“...What?”
“It’s a Shoppers card. I’m a shopper. I can use it.”
“Derek” had to have been faking it. There was no way anyone was this confidently stupid. In fact, maybe the whole day was just a fever dream. Maybe she’d wake up and beautiful Mindy would actually give two shits about her.
Mindy didn’t have that many issues with customers. She cared less about following rules than Diya did. If someone wanted a return with no receipt, she made it happen. People liked Mindy. Diya liked Mindy. She wondered what would’ve happened if Mindy didn’t leave with the boy. Maybe she could’ve saved her from this whole conversation, but Mindy didn’t like Diya as much as Diya liked Mindy.
She shook the thoughts from her head. “No, like Shoppers. Like the store.”
He laughed like she was the stupid one. One wolf wasn’t enough. She imagined two more bursting through the wall and tearing him to shreds.
“Listen,” he boasted. “I’ve been in Canada my whole life. I know how stuff works around here.”
Diya stared at him.
“I understand that maybe wherever you came from, it might be okay to treat your customers like this, but not—”
The conversation was interrupted by the ringing of bells. Diya scanned the entrance for auburn hair, but she was met with chestnut instead.
A woman her mother’s age walked in, wearing an eggplant raincoat. Umbrella in one hand and a little boy's hand in the other.
“Welcome, ma’am.”
“Are you forgetting about my cantaloupe?”
“Um…” She thought fast. “This cantaloupe has a bruise. And it smells weird. Maybe go get, uh… a new one?”
He looked down at the cantaloupe, then up at her, and then back down to the cantaloupe.
“Whatever.” He huffed while walking away with the unbruised melon and useless gift card.
Diya sighed in relief and watched the new customers. Eggplant Mother walked through the store and showed each vegetable she was buying to her Eggplant Son. He shook his head in disapproval, and she laughed while adding them to her basket. They seemed like a nice family, like Diya and her own mother. Man, I’m gonna have so much to tell her when I get home.
She celebrated internally when they made it up to the cash register before Derek could. Eggplant Mother placed four cucumbers, one head of broccoli, two beets, a bag of celery, and the overpriced mango. After she finished, Eggplant Son reached up to the counter and placed two chocolate bars. Surprisingly, there were no eggplants.
“Just these, please.”
“Alright.”
Scanning each item, Diya looked over to the wide set of eyes staring at her.
“Orange,” Eggplant Son said.
“Yeah.” Diya nodded. “Orange.”
“Woah.”
It was sweet. “Okay ma’am, your total is $46.45.”
“What?”
“$46.45. How would you like to pay?”
“No, I heard you. It's just…” She took a deep breath. “That’s a lot, isn’t it? I didn’t get that much.”
“I know, right? Prices.”
“Well? Can’t you do something?”
Diya was going to handcuff herself to a refrigerator and toss herself into the Pacific Ocean.
“It’s just not fair. Can’t you speak to your boss and get him to drop the prices?” Eggplant Mother bargained. “I mean, I’ve been to places that sold these things for less.”
“I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do.”
Eggplant Mother sighed deeply. “Okay, whatever.”
She paid quickly, grabbed her overpriced groceries, and booked it towards the door.
“Mama, can I be like her when I’m older?”
“A cashier? Don’t you want better?”
Diya really didn’t want to have to imagine the wolves attacking her, but the woman made it very hard. The son was alright, though.
“No, I mean orange.” Whatever he said after was silenced by the rain.
Derek walked back with the ugliest cantaloupe known to man. He slammed it on the counter, knocking over poor Helga. “Here.”
Diya really wished he would’ve stayed looking through cantaloupes until she could clock out.
“Great. So how would you like to pay?”
He handed her the gift card. It took every muscle in Diya’s body to keep her from chucking it out into the storm.
“You can’t pay with this.” She tried to hide the venom in her voice, but she was tired.
Derek furrowed his bushy eyebrows, “I want my cantaloupe.”
“I’m sorry, but you just can’t—”
“I get it. You’re new to English. Here.” He leaned in. “I. Want. My. Cantaloupe.” Each word with emphasis. “Do you understand?”
She stared. Seconds, maybe minutes passed. At this point, it wouldn’t have mattered if every wolf in the world gathered to rip Derek limb from limb, it wouldn’t be enough.
“Gift cards are usually gifts you give to people if you don’t care enough to know what they like,” she spat out. “You seem like you get a lot of gift cards, Derek.”
His eyes widened, and his mouth opened to say something in his defense.
“I—”
“You know no one cares when you give them the whole ‘Pure-Blooded Canadian’ shit, right? I was born here, too, but I don’t act like it makes me right about everything. Is this really your biggest accomplishment? Staying in one place your whole life? Never seeing the world?”
She stood back from her counter, her voice getting shaky. “I get paid to be nice to you, and all of a sudden you start thinking I’m not a person who actually feels things. I feel a lot of things, Derek.”
Tears began to stream down her face. “I feel like you’re stupid! I feel like your shoes don’t match your beer-stained shirt! I feel like you peaked in high school and resent every young person you ever meet because they remind you of everything you can no longer have!”
Derek looked dumbfounded and had nothing more to say. “And I feel,” she sobbed, “Like you and your fucking cantaloupe can go fuck yourselves all the way to cantaloupe hell!”
Diya didn’t wait for a response. She just grabbed her things and ran straight out into the pouring rain.
Diya sat at the bus stop. She’d lose her job for sure, but at least there’d be no more counting minutes, no more Helga, and no more need for wolves. It was only a shitty summer job at a corner store no one cared about.
Her clothes were drenched, yet still stained with the scent of coconut and vanilla. She thought back to beautiful Mindy. Part of her felt sorry for leaving when she’d told her she’d stay, but a bigger part hoped she’d never see her face again.