comparable buy he could see at $2.49 for fourteen ounces. But then he saw twelve-ounce bottles for $2.09. He stood there in a dilemma for three or four minutes trying to figure. For a fleeting moment he considered putting some of the bread back. Then he thought about the pork and beans. He was looking back and forth from his cart to the beer. And then he realized that he hadn’t even considered cigarettes.
“Shit,”
he whispered. A boy sweeping the aisle was trying to sweep around him.
“What’s the cheapest beer y’all got?” Wade asked him. The boy stopped and scratched his head. He looked around as if seeing it for the first time, since, in fact, he was.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Well, see if you can help me. You got anything cheapern this Old Milwaukee? It’s two forty-nine.”
The boy went from display to display, checking prices.
“I guess we got this here,” he said, tapping a stack of quarts. “It’s sixty-nine cents.”
Wade eyed it doubtfully. “What’s that shit?” he said.
“Says. Misterbrow. Somethin.”
“ What’d that be for a case? Ten and two. Six ninety and . . . one thirty-eight. Be . . .” He looked at the boy.
“I don’t know,” the boy said.
“Be eight twenty-eight.”
“Plus tax,” said the boy.
“Plus tax. Which is . . . what? A nickel?”
“Six cents now.”
“Six cents. Six eights forty-eight.” He was wagging his head slightly from side to side. “Almost nine dollars.”
The boy didn’t say anything.
“But that’s three gallons of beer,” Wade told him. “Ain’t that right? Twelve quarts to the case?”
“I guess.”
“But I still got to get some cigarettes. And tax on all that . . .”
“I got to sweep this floor,” the boy said.
“What’d I say while ago? Nine dollars. So a half a case’d be bout four and a half. Gallon and a half of beer. And this other ...” He turned his head and looked back to the Old Milwaukee. “Two six-packs five dollars. Fourteen times twelve . . . ten’s a hunnerd and forty . . . and twenty-eight . . . that ain’t but a little over a gallon,” he said. The boy had dropped all pretense of trying to sweep. He was just listening to him.
“Half a case of that’s what I need,” Wade said. “How bout takin six of them out for me?”
In the end he ditched six cans of pork and beans into the freezer section along with one of the loaves of bread, and wound up with five packs of generic cigarettes instead of a whole carton of Camels. He shoved into line and waited for the girl to set his things on the counter. He moved his head from his goods to the register like a tennis spectator as she rang it all up. He winced when she added the sales tax.
“Goddamn,” he said. “ Y’all the highest place in town, ain’t you?”
She just leaned on one arm and tapped her nails on the counter and gave him a shitty look while he pulled out his money. A boy sacked the groceries and started to push the cart out the door.
“I got it,” Wade told him, and went out onto the sidewalk. He had all his groceries in one sack, but the meat scraps alone were almost more than he could carry. He looked out over the parking lot as the sweat leaped out of him. He saw a parked cab and he pushed his cart down the ramp and went over to it. There was a pony tailed young white man sitting at the wheel.
“You got a fare?”
The man glanced up from his paper and flipped some ashes offhis cigarette down the door. He looked at his newspaper again and turned a page.
“I’s supposed to had one but if she don’t bring her black ass out here in about two minutes I’m fixin to go eat dinner.”
“What’ll you charge me to carry me out to London Hill?”
The driver looked up.
“London Hill? Hell, that’s way out in the country.” He shook his head a little. “I don’t know.”
“What’ll
“Shit,”
he whispered. A boy sweeping the aisle was trying to sweep around him.
“What’s the cheapest beer y’all got?” Wade asked him. The boy stopped and scratched his head. He looked around as if seeing it for the first time, since, in fact, he was.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Well, see if you can help me. You got anything cheapern this Old Milwaukee? It’s two forty-nine.”
The boy went from display to display, checking prices.
“I guess we got this here,” he said, tapping a stack of quarts. “It’s sixty-nine cents.”
Wade eyed it doubtfully. “What’s that shit?” he said.
“Says. Misterbrow. Somethin.”
“ What’d that be for a case? Ten and two. Six ninety and . . . one thirty-eight. Be . . .” He looked at the boy.
“I don’t know,” the boy said.
“Be eight twenty-eight.”
“Plus tax,” said the boy.
“Plus tax. Which is . . . what? A nickel?”
“Six cents now.”
“Six cents. Six eights forty-eight.” He was wagging his head slightly from side to side. “Almost nine dollars.”
The boy didn’t say anything.
“But that’s three gallons of beer,” Wade told him. “Ain’t that right? Twelve quarts to the case?”
“I guess.”
“But I still got to get some cigarettes. And tax on all that . . .”
“I got to sweep this floor,” the boy said.
“What’d I say while ago? Nine dollars. So a half a case’d be bout four and a half. Gallon and a half of beer. And this other ...” He turned his head and looked back to the Old Milwaukee. “Two six-packs five dollars. Fourteen times twelve . . . ten’s a hunnerd and forty . . . and twenty-eight . . . that ain’t but a little over a gallon,” he said. The boy had dropped all pretense of trying to sweep. He was just listening to him.
“Half a case of that’s what I need,” Wade said. “How bout takin six of them out for me?”
In the end he ditched six cans of pork and beans into the freezer section along with one of the loaves of bread, and wound up with five packs of generic cigarettes instead of a whole carton of Camels. He shoved into line and waited for the girl to set his things on the counter. He moved his head from his goods to the register like a tennis spectator as she rang it all up. He winced when she added the sales tax.
“Goddamn,” he said. “ Y’all the highest place in town, ain’t you?”
She just leaned on one arm and tapped her nails on the counter and gave him a shitty look while he pulled out his money. A boy sacked the groceries and started to push the cart out the door.
“I got it,” Wade told him, and went out onto the sidewalk. He had all his groceries in one sack, but the meat scraps alone were almost more than he could carry. He looked out over the parking lot as the sweat leaped out of him. He saw a parked cab and he pushed his cart down the ramp and went over to it. There was a pony tailed young white man sitting at the wheel.
“You got a fare?”
The man glanced up from his paper and flipped some ashes offhis cigarette down the door. He looked at his newspaper again and turned a page.
“I’s supposed to had one but if she don’t bring her black ass out here in about two minutes I’m fixin to go eat dinner.”
“What’ll you charge me to carry me out to London Hill?”
The driver looked up.
“London Hill? Hell, that’s way out in the country.” He shook his head a little. “I don’t know.”
“What’ll
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