nothing in common

The woman approached me in Target. She had an infant, I had a tell-tale belly. We each had a husband in tow.

"Excuse me, we’re new here. I wonder if you know where we could buy a crib?" I didn’t really. Certainly not first-hand. We have nothing ready for this child, although we did bring home the borrowed bassinet that had been decorating Mike’s office for some months. Why buy a crib? One would show up when we needed it. (Or else Mike would decide to make one…) But being the habitual observer and compulsive eavesdropper that I am, I had heard word of a Babies R Us hidden inland about 20 miles. I had never been there. I had no plans to go.

I told the woman about what I’d heard. She nodded askance, like she was waiting for the rest of the list. "We’ve only been here a few days, but we haven’t found a Walmart!" she told me, her palms turned up to the florescent lights. Her husband cut in: "There’s only a Walmart in Salinas, and it’s not a SuperWalmart." He was clearly disgusted.

I looked at this couple, a bit younger than us, building their life, perhaps planning another baby. Maybe our kids would go to school together, give each other nicknames, stand at opposite ends of a jump rope. For now, these parents were new in town, a town without a Walmart, and my heart, well, it didn’t really go out to them so much as it curled back on itself in confusion.

We drifted away from each other, the woman and I - she, toward the strollers, I, toward the exit.