By Philip Lear
It was 11:30 PM and I had been standing behind the cashier’s counter at Santelli’s Liquor Store for twelve hours. There hadn’t been a customer in over an hour and I was thinking about closing early. Tuesday nights were usually slow, but tonight my mind was numb.
That’s when I heard the bells jingle as the front door opened. I’ve seen many weird sights in my life. There was the time I saw the dog wearing headphones and the nude man with the suitcase at JFK Airport. This one was right up there.
For there, in front of me, was a woman with a very large belly. She looked like she was in her eleventh month and she was wearing a ski mask. Her gun pointed shakily at me.
“I guess you’re not a skier,” I said.
“Never mind the wisecracks. Open the register and hand me the cash.”
I handed her the cash.
She pushed the gun into my cheek and said, “I meant all the cash.”
“I don’t have any more,” I said. “But there’s plenty of booze and cigarettes. I even have a couple of cases of Johnnie Walker Black,” I added.
She turned the lock on the front door and nodded at me with the gun.
“Walk,” she said pointing to the back of the store.
I could feel the gun in the small of my back as we walked to the stockroom.
“Here are the cases,” I said pointing at them.
“Start lifting,” she said, poking the gun in my ribs.
“My back isn’t that good,” I said.
“You don’t expect a pregnant woman to lift that?”
I wasn’t taking any chances. I was just a clerk earning eight dollars an hour and wasn’t about to risk my ass. I lifted the two cases of Johnnie Walker and put them in the trunk of her car.
I had just finished when she let out a scream and doubled up clutching her stomach. The gun dropped and I grabbed it.
“Bad timing,” I said.
“I had a contraction.”
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“Couldn’t be better,” she said.
“Now give me the money and take off that ridiculous ski mask. It makes you look like a raccoon.”
She pulled off the ski mask. She was slightly plump and had short blond hair. She must have been in her early thirties.
“Put it back on,” I quipped.
“Do I look that bad?”
“No, you look fine. I was just kidding.”
“I need the money.”
“If I call the cops, they’ll return the money and your baby with be born at Rikers Island.”
She handed the money over. I put the liquor back in the storeroom and the cash in the register.
She screamed again.
“You need to go to the hospital. Give me your keys. I’ll drive.”
“I can’t go there. He’ll find me.”
“Who?”
“My husband. I was running away from him. I’m sorry if I scared you.”
“Scared me! Huh! Until you came in I was dying of boredom.”
“I was desperate.”
“There’s a women’s shelter over on Fifth. I’ll take you there. They’ll take good care of you,” I said.
As I stopped in front of the shelter she reached over and gave me a peck on the cheek.
“Thanks, mister,” she said.
I watched as she waddled up the stairs and went behind the door.
.