“Samantha? Only one candy, all right?” Her father called to her from a couple yards away. Samantha looked at her father quickly, barely registering his existence, and then turned back to the brightly colored packets of overpriced, over-sugared, oversold sugar. This was her world right now. Samantha’s father came to the counter and put a protective arm around his daughter. Henry looked him in the eyes. He enjoyed doing that; the customers almost never noticed and it let him see what the customer was really like. Samantha’s father’s eyes betrayed the smile he had plastered on his face. They were tired and bloodshot with suitcases developing. His graying hair was beginning to thin and not really combed with any care.
Henry couldn’t imagine having a child with mental disabilities; the constant care and supervision, the disappointment and acceptance when he and his wife learned that their little girl wasn’t going to be like other little girls, and finally the joy when Samantha was born because even though she would be disabled, there was nothing that compared to the love a parent has for its child. At least that’s what Henry’s mother told him and Henry believed her. He had to.
“Can I help you, sir?” Henry asked as his customer smile came to his face. Customers loved seeing that shit-eating smile; the only ones that didn’t were those who had experience in the service industry before and knew it for the charade it really was.
“Well I think we’re still deciding here. Come on, Samantha…we’re already a little late as it is.”
“I want that one,” Samantha shouted pointing frantically to a candy. In her mind, she was probably pointing directly at one; to Henry’s eyes, she was pointing at about three right next to each other. Henry bent to get out the three that she had pointed to. While some workers would just wait for her father to make the decision and stand there looking listless, Henry would smile and display them far apart from each other for Samantha’s eyes to focus on which one she wanted. She would pick one and feel proud that she had gotten it right on the first try. Her father would feel unencumbered for the first time that day because he hadn’t had to help her daughter with yet another thing and thank Henry for his patience. Henry would take his money, make change and say, “Enjoy your movie.” They would toddle off to their movie and never see Henry again. Oh, sure, Henry might walk past them on a street or in a mall over the years; hell, he might have already sold them concessions in the previous three years he had been at the movie theater. Henry sighed and faced his bills. Another satisfied customer. All the customers liked Henry because he exuded confidence and was painstakingly polite to them. Why not? Henry thought. Why not be polite to someone you’ll never see again?
It was 5:03.
