There's this girl at The Store.
She's a General Assistant of sorts, as far as I can make out: she's not tethered to any particular department like quite a few of the others are, instead working wherever the Manager on duty puts her. She's tall, and broad, and very pretty - in a James Herriot novel, she would be referred to as a 'nice big strapping lass' - and whenever we pass by one another she smiles at me with a big beaming smile (which is nice).
Today, while sweeping the staff smoking area - a small courtesy I perform a few times a week providing I have the time; technically not one of the requirements of my job - she was stood enjoying a cigarette with one of her male colleague's, and I happened to overhear quite a bit of their conversation.
The male colleague - young, in his early twenties, if that - was saying about how hard it was for him to admit to his parents that he was gay (even though as it turned out they knew anyway and didn't care), and she was nodding sympathetically - y'know, as you would - and then she said it:
"I didn't Come Out to most of my family for years, just to my closest friends. It's easier these days, of course, as it's more accepted, but still, it's hard: even though you know they love you, you don't quite know how they'll react to news like that."
'Ooh, when you Came Out, indeed', thought I, as I carried on sweeping: 'hmm! Interesting...'
They nodded at one another understandingly, and in my head I nodded along with them, and I was just about to take the plunge and insert myself into the conversation - something along the lines of "I know what you mean about it being hard: my grandparents still have no idea about me, they're just assuming I'm waiting for the right man". Y'know, just throwing it out there into the ring so that the Nice Big Strapping Lass was made aware that I (another lass who was fat, rather than strapping, but still very pretty and nice) also was gay... - when she said and then did something else, which rapidly killed off the butterflies that had just woken up a little and were beginning to drowsily flutter their wings. What she said was:
"got to go, anyway. My husband's bringing my daughter in to meet me at 11:30 to help pick the new wallpaper".
What the f***?! Daughter, fair enough, but; husband?
Bisexual perhaps / probably. Or perhaps by 'husband' what she had actually meant was 'wife'. Either way, not what I'd had in mind when my poor little butterflies had first begun to stir.
That information killed a few of the said butterflies off on it's own, but then; THEN dear reader(s), do you know what she did straight after?
I'll tell you what she did. She took the cigarette she had been smoking while chatting to her colleague and watching me carefully and methodically sweep up every last bit of debris in the surrounding area and proceeded - looking directly into my face with an impassive expression as she did so - to flick said cigarette onto the just swept ground (next to my feet, no less).
Then she turned and walked away without a backward glance, leaving me, and the cigarette, and the gay male colleague (who was now looking embarrassed) and most importantly the bin she had been stood right next to at the time behind her.
"Er...let me get that for you..." the young lad said at last to break the awkward silence. Stamping on the butt to put it out - yes, reader(s) she hadn't even done that much: the thing was still lit and puffing away - he picked it up and put it in the bin: "some people just don't think, do they?"
"Nope," I agreed with a wry smile.
He hovered for a few seconds more as though uncertain what to do, then giving me another sheepish smile stubbed what was left of his cigarette out fled after making sure he disposed of it properly.
I watched him go.
Then I sighed.
Then I dusted down my trousers, grabbed my equipment, and got on with the next thing on my list, uncomfortably aware of the little pile of dead insects currently lying in the pit of my stomach for quite a while afterwards...
B.C.B.F.L.B x
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