“Tell Roy we said hi,” Bridget adds over her shoulder as they head toward the bus stop.

I step from the parking lot, through the sliding doors and into the cool interior of Roy’s new workplace, Home Depot. The smell of lumber is overwhelming and I’m surprised that Roy can even stand it; he complains when I wear even the slightest hint of perfume.

I’ve never been inside a Home Depot before and instantly I feel overwhelmed by the extensive orange shelving, the thousands of long aisles, the hundreds of … boy things just lying around with names that read like a bad porn magazine: coupling, female receptacle, male receptacle, screws, wood… I find it incredibly shocking that Roy has yet to make jokes about the products his new work place sells. The signs stare down at me, hanging from the shelving announcing the prices of the supposedly sexually explicit items.

“Watch out, you’ll catch flies if you’re not careful,” a voice says, startling me. 

I clamp my mouth shut and turn to find myself face to face with a boy about my age leaning against several carts pushed together.  His hair is disheveled and his grin is wide, displaying an expanse of perfectly straight teeth. His orange apron tells me his name is Jim.

“Yeah,” I manage to finally say. “It’s just really big…” As the words come from my mouth I can hardly believe I’m saying them. I’m such a dork.

“I get that all the time,” he teases.

“I meant the store.” I can feel myself inwardly cringe.  What’s my problem? I’m out of high school for a week and I can already feel myself turning back into a nerdy freshman. “There’s a lot of… stuff…” I add, blushing.

“Well, we specialize in stuff.”  His smile is causing my heart to do a funny little jump.  “Lemme guess, your toilet’s clogged?”

“No, I’m--” I begin to explain, but he interrupts me.

“Light bulb?  Paint brush extender? Too short to reach the ceiling? Need a ladder?” He asks in quick succession.   “I’ve been known to rent out my height,” he adds jokingly.

I laugh, his charm beginning to overwhelm me. 

“No, I’m actually…” I pause and move to nervously push a strand of hair from my face, having forgotten that my hands are held back by my heavy shopping bag. 

“Where’s my Home Depot Homer attitude?” He asks with a grin, pulling out a cart.  He pushes it toward me.  “For your bags.”

“Thanks,” I say.  I can feel my face begin to blush again as I put my bags into the cart. “Who’s Homer?” I ask in an attempt to deflect my embarrassment.

“This guy,” he says with a flourish, pointing toward his apron. 

I tilt my head.  His apron has several badges pinned to it and it sort of reminds me of the boy scouts.  I wonder briefly if Roy’s apron has any. 

“Keep it close?” I ask with a tease to my voice, pointing toward a green badge with the words embroidered upon it.

Taken aback, he looks down at his apron.  Noticing the badge, his face lights up and he laughs.  “No!” He declares.  “You’re kinda saucy, aren’t you?”

It’s at that moment that I realize Home Depot Jim is flirting with me. I bite my lip, suddenly feeling self-conscious. 

Jim seems to realize the shift in our conversation and begins to back pedal.  “I just meant…” He stammers, pointing toward a badge that says Certified Cashier, a small cartoon man in a plaid shirt next to it.  “Homer… He’s the Home Depot mascot.  He has this cheer, you know…”

“Cheer?” I ask, a smile pulling at my lips. “Now you’re totally going to have to show me the cheer…”

Jim laughs.  “Not a chance.  Way too embarrassing.  If you wanna see it, you have to come in at opening.”

“Just a hint?” I plead. “Please?  Please? Please?” I repeat, hoping that if I annoy him enough it will force him to share the embarrassing cheer.

“Okay, okay,” he says, finally relenting. In a show of dramatics, he clears his throat. “Who’s number one? The customer, always!” He pumps his fist into the air and I immediately double over laughing.

“Again!” I command as though he’s my wind-up toy.  “That was hilarious. Do it again!”

“No way.  My embarrassment is complete.” He does a quick bow.  “So you gonna tell me what you’re looking for so that I can do Homer proud?”

I’m suddenly reminded that I was supposed to meet Roy. My boyfriend, Roy.  My boyfriend who probably wouldn’t appreciate me flirting with a guy I just met-- at his work, no less.

“Actually, I’m looking for my boyfriend, Roy,” I say.  I notice that my voice has dipped and the words come out rushed- it’s as though I’m hoping Jim doesn’t hear what I’m saying.

“Roy from lumber?” He asks; his smile has disappeared and his voice has turned from new friend Jim into Home Depot associate Jim.

“Yeah.”

He pauses as though he’s contemplating something. “I’ll walk you there,” he says at last.

“Thanks.” 

We walk down the main aisle of the store in silence, the buzz of weekend activity drowning out the awkwardness.  I’m grateful for the noise because it’s something to focus on rather than the guilty thoughts that are racing through my mind.  I can see sheets of plywood, drywall and slabs of lumber in the distance, but for some reason I don’t mention this to Jim. 

“Lot associate to Front End,” says a voice from the overhead speakers.  Jim tilts his head and looks at me.

“That’s me,” he says hesitantly.  I think I notice regret in his voice, but I don’t mention it and I refuse to think about it any further.  I’m on my way to meet up with Roy after all.

My boyfriend, Roy.

“Okay,” I say quietly. 

“It’s just down this aisle,” he explains. “You’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, I think so,” I say nodding my head.  “There’s nothing here that can bite me, right?” I add, hoping to lighten the awkward, uncomfortable tension that has developed between me and Jim.

“Nope. Nothing will bite.” A smile spreads across his face. “Well… watch out for Flooring associates. Sometimes they bite.”

I chuckle at his comment. “I will.  Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

As he turns to walk away I find myself suddenly calling out: “I’m Pam by the way.”

“Nice to meet you Pam.”  And with that, before I know it he’s disappeared behind a crowd of customers.

Lost in thought, I barely hear Roy’s roaring laugh as he comes behind me.

“Hey Pammie!” He says greeting me, placing a kiss on my temple. “It’s about time you got here.”

For some reason I’m immediately annoyed. I manage to muster: “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that.”

“Listen babe, I’ve got to pack down some two by fours in the lumber run before I can go.  Why don’t you wait for me in the lunchroom?”

It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes. “I don’t work here, Roy,” I remind him.

“So?”

“So… wouldn’t it be weird if I waited in the staff lunchroom?” 

“Nah, just go down this aisle to the end and turn left.  You’ll see it on the right,” he motions toward the aisle of drywall. 

I narrow my eyes at him and sigh.  “Fine.”  Like always he doesn’t notice the snap in my voice.

“Great, thanks.” He turns and heads down an aisle, oblivious to my annoyance. 

I follow his directions and soon find myself at the door to what I figure is the staff lunchroom. I heave a big sigh, pull my bags from the cart and push through the door.

The room is filled with aisles of lockers.  To the side is a large fridge, a sink, a water cooler and three vending machines.  Several employees are sitting at the tables in the middle of the room.  A couple of them glance up and give me a curious look. 

“The washroom is—” begins one.  But before he can continue the door opens behind me.

“Pam?”  I turn and am relieved to see a familiar face.

“Hi!”

“What are you doing in here?” Jim asks.

“Roy told me to wait here for him… He needed finish something up.” I shift uncomfortably, not sure what to do with myself.

“Here, grab a seat.” He motions toward a nearby table and pulls a chair out for me to sit on. 

“Thanks,” I say, placing my bags on the floor.  

I watch as he quickly washes his hands, grabs a coke from the fridge and moves toward the vending machine.  He slips some coins into the slot and presses in his selection. He pulls out a bag of Sun Chips

“Grab some cups from behind you there,” he says motioning to the water cooler that’s just behind me.  I lean over and pull a cup from the attached dispenser. 

Jim opens the bag of Sun Chips and slips one into his mouth just as I’m placing a plastic cup onto the table. 

“Two,” he mumbles with a mouth full of chip.

I look at him curiously. 

“Two cups,” Jim repeats, this time his words clearer. 

I stop myself from protesting in part because I’m not entirely sure what he wants two cups for. 

Before I know it, he’s filled both with coke. 

“Cheers,” he says lifting one. 

“What?” I must seem entirely stupid to him.  

“For you.”  Jim motions toward the second cup of coke. 

I pause, unsure if I should take the glass. 

“You like coke, right?” He asks, noticing my hesitance.

“Yeah.”

“Well then, drink up!”

I finally relent, bringing the cup to my lips. He offers me some Sun Chips.  Shrugging off the insecurities that had been plaguing me, I happily share in the snack.

For several moments we sit in silence, drinking our respective cokes and eating from a shared bag of Sun Chips.

“So how long have you and Roy been together?” Jim asks quietly. I’m pretty certain he’s just trying to make polite conversation.

“Almost two years.  We met when we were juniors,” I explain.

“Wow,” he says amazed.  “That’s a long time.”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“So are you guys like, going away to college?”

“Nah.  I’m going to major in education and minor in art at Marywood.” 

“Oh.  To save money?” He asks.

“Yeah,” I answer absently. “Something like that.”

“What about Roy?”

“He’s gonna take a year off.  He’s been applying for some warehouse jobs ‘cause they pay a bit more, you know?”

Jim nods and I can tell he’s not particularly interested in hearing about Roy.

“How long you been working here?” I ask, attempting to change the subject.

“Too long,” he says with a chuckle. “Well okay, only four months. But it feels like forever.”

Just as I’m about to ask if he’s heading to college in the fall, the door opens and an awkward moonfaced man stumbles into the lunchroom. His hair is parted in the center and his glasses sit crooked on his nose.

“You. Identify yourself,” he demands, glaring at me.

“Dwight leave her alone.” Jim rolls his eyes. 

“I will do no such thing.” 

I watch, stunned as Dwight reaches into his apron pocket and pulls out a pamphlet stamped with the company’s logo.  “Home Depot rules and regulation clearly state that under no circumstances should a non-associate be privy to private company information, which includes the staff lunchroom.”

“It’s okay,” I say beginning to stand up.  “I’ve got to find Roy any—”

“No, no. Stay.  Ignore him,” Jim says, motioning for me to sit down again.

“Dwight, what did Michael tell you about secret shoppers?”

Dwight pauses and stares at me; I can almost see beads of sweat developing on his forehead. 

“That I’m supposed to be nice to them, show them to their product and escort them to the front cash.”

“And are you being nice right now to this secret shopper?” Dwight looks from me to Jim and then notices my shopping bags filled with art supplies lying on the floor.

Before I even have a chance to blink Dwight is on his knees clutching my hand.

“Can I get you a coffee?  Foot massage? A cart?” He begins to offer, fear obvious on his face.

“No, I’m good,” I say, desperately trying to hold in my laughter.

“Please don’t write a bad review,” he begs, clutching my hand tighter. “Please?”

I look at Jim who gives a quick nod of encouragement.  “Well, I don’t know,” I begin, making my voice sound stern.  “I was just doing my job when you accused me of stealing company secrets.”  I click my tongue for added effect.

“Please, please, please, don’t give us a bad review,” Dwight continues to beg.  “Anything, anything you want.

“Well then, I suppose I can leave a good review.  Under one condition though.”  Out of the corner of my eye I notice Jim pursing his lips, attempting to stop himself from laughing.

“Anything!”

“For the next week, every time you hear Jim’s name paged, you have to answer it.”  Dwight glares at Jim who has now folded his arms across his chest and is smiling smugly.  “Promise me you’ll do that, or else I will report you and this store to the… to the Secret Shoppers Network,” I saying, lying.

Dwight pauses, thinking about my offer.  “Fine. Fine. Deal.”  We shake hands and Dwight climbs to his feet.

“I swear Jim, if this is one of your pranks--” Dwight stops himself when he realizes that I’m listening to everything he’s saying. With a grunt of annoyance he storms from the lunchroom, the door swinging closed behind him.

Jim leans in toward me.  “Flooring associate,” he whispers with a smile. “Can’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

We both double over in fits of laughter as the door swings open again.

“Okay babe, ya ready?” Roy punches out at the time clock, unties his dirty apron and tosses it on the table.  I recoil at the smell emanating off of the apron and now surely tainting the once clean lunch table.

“Aren’t you gonna put that in your locker?” I ask, pointing at the stinky heap of orange material and sawdust.

“Nah. No one’ll touch it.” He picks up a couple of my bags from the floor.  “What the hell did you buy?  I hope not more art supplies.”

I stand up, rolling my eyes and ignore his question.

“Nice meeting you Jim,” I say with a nervous smile, pulling away a strand of hair from my eyes.  “Thanks for keeping me company while I waited.”

“No problem.  I had fun,” he says genuinely.

I’m unsure of what else to say.  Roy waits holding the door open for me.  “Ya coming?”

As I’m about to exit the lunchroom, I hear Jim call my name.

“Hm?”

“Good luck at Marywood.”  His eyes have a sudden lightness to them.  “Hopefully I’ll see you there,” he adds with a quick, almost unnoticeable wink.

“Yeah…” It’s the only thing I know to say in response, I’m grinning so wide that my cheeks are beginning to hurt.

“See you around Jim,” I say at last.

“See ya Pam.”