Waiting in Line - 1. Chapter 1

"This cashier," she said testily in Russian to her friend, "needs to hurry up."

"Why? We're not in a hurry."

"I don't like standing in this line, is all. Anyways, look at her, look how slowly she's ringing his things in. Typical lazy Canadians..."

"What? We haven't been waiting all that long."

"Fine. I don't like standing in this line with him."

"Anna, don't point like that, it's rude. And anyway what's wrong with him?"

"Look at him! All weak and scrawny, and his hair's too long. And he doesn't have a proper beard. And even his-"

"What has gotten into you? He looks like an ordinary young man to me, and you're acting like he's some dirty crazy homeless person pawing at your purse!"

"He's not a proper man! And I shouldn't have to stand in line with, with... with that."

"Oh God. Not this again."

"Yes this again! Of course this again! You may tolerate their... their kind, but that doesn't mean I have to!"

"Anna, keep your voice down. And stop pointing, you're making him uncomfortable."

"Good! If I'm uncomfortable, then he should be too. He should be damned miserable!"

"You're so-"

"No! No I'm not 'so'. I'm not 'intolerant' - no don't look at me like that, I know that's what you were going to say! I'm not intolerant; you're too tolerant. And you're damned pushy about it. Always trying to force me to see things your way. Always getting mad at me when I don't act the way you think I should!"

"Can you even hear yourself?"

"Humph! No. You know what, Olga. I pity you. I pity you because here you are doing the devil's work and you don't even know it. But I'll pray for you, you know. I'll pray-"

"Oh stop with all that pious garbage. You know I don't believe."

"You only say that because the communists got to your family when you were young. If your father hadn't brainwashed you into the Party, you'd believe. And you wouldn't be defending that...abomination."

"The communists? The communists?!You know full well what they did to my family, and you call me one of them?! What have those priests of yours put into your head, Anna? You're the one treating that poor boy like the old Party would have!"

"Well, maybe they didn't get everything wrong."

"I- I don't believe this. After what happened to your cousin..."

"They tried to help him! It's not their fault he chose to kill himself. And anyway he's not really my cousin, he was adopted."

"He was not-"

"He was adopted!"

"I don't believe this..."

"And I don't believe you, Olga. And I don't understand you. I don't understand how you can stand there and smile apologetically at him - as though he actually deserves an apology - when I know you saw him with his fellow-pervert boyfriend in the street not fifteen minutes ago. It was revolting! I wanted to throw up, and here you are defending- Why is the cashier leaving? Where's she-? Oh God, the old man's paying with a check? What year is this? Does he know what year this is?"

"Anna-"

"No! Don't interrupt me! I wasn't finished. It's disgusting. He's disgusting. And the only thing that galls me nearly as much as having to stand in this line with him is listening to you - my friend - defend that thing."

"Christian indeed. Your own Jesus forgave the prosti-"

"The prostitute was the way she was because she was poor. She hadn't chosen to be a pervert!"

"Right. And that boy did. In a world full of hate like yours he chose to draw it to himself."

"Oh don't roll your eyes at me. Anyways why did he have to be the one to come in here to shop?"

"Because he needs to eat, the same as us?"

"No, I- Oh good, the cashier's coming back. "

"No? What do you mean 'no'? Oh no. Dear God, don't tell me. In fact please tell me that I'm wrong. You meant why couldn't it be the other one, his boyfriend, here shopping instead, don't you?"

"Maybe. I- What are they arguing about? I don't understand."

"They can't take the check. The old man wants to see the manager. The cashier's just called him up."

"Always delays when you're in a hurry!"

"We're not in a hurry. You're just being stupid. Anyways, explain why you'd rather have the other one. He's just as gay as this man."

"Yes. But at least he's not the woman."

"Pardon? He's not the-?"

"The woman."

"I'm- I- God! What-? I'm almost afraid to ask... You know about their sex life how, exactly?"

"Oh look at him. It's obvious. He's thin and weak and that necklace-"

"The necklace? Lots of men wear those necklaces. Your son has one-"

"That's not the same!"

"I'm pretty sure it's exactly the same necklace."

"Forget the necklace! It's not the same! And anyway he's here shopping, doing woman's work."

"Unbelievable! You snap at your husband whenever he makes a sexist joke, and now you're-"

"That's not the same!"

"Of course it's the same! What, did your husband grow breasts every time he stood in a bread line back in Moscow?"

"What do bread lines have to do with anything? It's not the same!"

"Fine, fine. Still, none of that means he likes it-"

"Don't finish that sentence! I'll throw up if you do! And who cares what he likes. The other one was twice his size and strong. He probably-"

"My God! What is wrong with you?"

"What? Nothing's wrong with me. And don't yell like that, you're making a scene."

"Are you hearing yourself at all? You'd really rather stand in line with the man who you just practically accused of raping his own boyfriend, just because he's marginally more masculine? I'm- I don't know what to say!"

"Marginally? Look at him! Look at how he's standing there, how he- Ugh! I bet he even has one of those revolting lisps."

"Anna, I..."

"And tell him to stop glaring at us! Why's he glaring at us?"

"After all that you just said-?"

"Oh don't be stupid, he doesn't understand. These Canadians barely speak their own language, bunch of idiots. Not like us. We had to learn at least three by the end of school, remember? And this one's too stupid to even know where he should put his dick, assuming it's not too small-"

"Anna!"

"Oh whatever. It doesn't matter. It's only rude if he knows what I'm saying, and I can't imagine he's understood a single word."

"You can't imagine a lot of things."

"What's that supposed to mean? And he's still glaring!"

"He's probably impatient to pay for his food, like we are."

"...nothing like us."

"What did you just mumble?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter. Anyway, look, the idiot finally managed to pay. We can finally pay and get the hell away from that- Wait, what's she saying? I don't understand."

"The cashier wants your discount card."

"My what?"

"Your discount card. You know, for the store? The little blue-"

"Oh! Right, that! Here it is. You know, she's actually quite fast when there's not some dumb old man holding up the line. So... Same time next week? You know I so appreciate you interpreting for me all the time. English is such a hard language to learn-"

"I'll be busy then."

"What? Ok. Well... Then how about in the morning?"

"Busy."

"Then the next day. Sunday. After church."

"Still busy."

"Well. When will you be free?"

"I don't know. When I decide to be. I might let you know."

"Ah. Well, I need-"

"Just go and bag your things. We'll talk later."

"Yes of course. Ugh."

"Stop making faces at the boy and bag your things! I won't wait for you all day."

"Probably the parents."

"Anna, please don't start again-"

"Oh look at him. He moves like a girl-"

"No he doesn't-"

"-his parents should have seen it and his father beaten it out of him when he was young! But no, these Canadian parents can't be bothered to watch their kids and make sure they grow up right. They neglect them and teach them nothing and leave them in front of Satan's box and this is what happens. Disgusting! Revolting! Well God will judge-"

"Hopefully with more wisdom than you've-"

"-God will judge! ...disgusting! And people get upset with me when I point out the world has gone to hell!"

"You know what, forget about next week. Forget about the next two months. I'm done with-"

"I bet they just ignored him. Didn't feed him or anything, I mean look how skinny he is. Probably has brain damage from malnutrition..."

"Stop muttering! Are you listening to me at all?"

"...go to hell along with their pervert son..."

"No. No this is too much. This is too much by far. Anna Ivanovna, are you listening to me?"

"What? Yes, of course."

"The cashier wants you to go pay. I hope there are no problems because I'm leaving now-"

"You can't leave. I need help carrying the bags."

"I don't care."

"What?!"

"Look at yourself! Day after day - you never stop! I'm done listening to your endless rude, hypocritical, foul, venomous, self-righteous... spiteful little tirades. You hear me? Done! Finished! Find yourself another translator, I'm not doing this again, and - before you say it - twenty years of friendship can burn in hell!"

"No! You can't-"

"Oh shut up and take your change."

"Olga!"

"Excuse me," Olga turned to me and spoke in English, "I can't help but notice you've bought a lot of fruits and vegetables. It's good to see the younger generation taking care of themselves."

"What? What are you saying?"

"Why thank you. I do like to cook healthy."

"Oh? You cook! What sort of things do you cook?"

"All sorts. Soup, stir-fry, steaks. A few specialties from my childhood. Salads..."

"That's wonderful! How did you learn? My friend here's son-"

"What are you saying? Your friend's... Your friend's...son?!"

"Sorry, as I was saying, my friend's son here never bothered learning. The boy couldn't cook to save his life."

"My son? No! No don't talk to him! I forbid you from talking to him about my Anton!"

"Sorry, she's very excitable. Like I said, he never cooks. Just buys junk food all the time. Between you and me it's made him rather fat."

"What did you just say? What are you saying about my Anton?!"

"Relax, I'm just asking him where he learned to cook."

"You shouldn't talk to his kind! They're-"

I cut her off and answered Olga flawlessly in unaccented Russian, "Well, you know, my parents taught me. I never really wanted to learn when I was little, but, of course, they insisted. They cared very much that I stay healthy. I've been grateful to them ever since."

A long stunned silence followed, the cashier eyed us all suspiciously as she rang my groceries through the till. Olga answered, "Well that's delightful! Anyways, I need to run! Lovely meeting you!"

"Olga! Wait! Where are you going? I need help with these bags! Olga! Olga!"

I paid the cashier and took my bags, barely resisting the urge to sneer back at Anna when Matt met me by the door and took a few from me to carry.