Love and the Deli Counter

At my Stop & Shop the ladies at the deli counter

give us free slices of meat so we can talk about

how thin we want it. Everyone wants it thinner

but me. A woman asks for four slices shaved

ham. She can have anything she wants. I want

two pounds of turkey, sliced thick. I never

got the thin slice thing; it's hard to pick up. It tears.

It takes the ladies longer to cut it up. Here's what

I hate: inconveniencing ladies. One of the deli ladies

tells me the provolone piccante smells like feet and I

say Way to sell it! I make her coworker laugh,

which is all I want from a trip to the Stop & Shop.

She and I keep looking at each other, nodding as if

we are listening seriously while foot-taste cheese

lady makes her case; the foot taste is a good thing!

Then she wants to talk about not wearing socks

as a kid, getting in trouble with her mom. I love

them both. I am eating a free slice of turkey, thanking

them, telling another lady in the store I love the blue

and yellow grosgrain ribbon down her jeans' seams,

telling another I love your boots. There are no men

in the store. Saturday afternoon; we stroll the aisles,

kind to each other. Some days Boston is just a bunch

of women calling out to each other I LOVE YOUR DRESS!

We eat free turkey, help each other find the sour cream.

The checkout girl's name tag says Love. Love tells me

her mom called her love so much she just changed it.

I love it, love my Stop & Shop, her name, love

when people, strangers, call me love or lovie. At the gym

Christine says Hello, love until she learns my name;

a shame. At the deli counter, a woman dries her hands,

smiles at me, says and what can I get you, my love?

-- Jill McDonough

From AMERICAN TREASURE 2022 Jill McDonough.