Turning “Legal”
I stood in a grocery store aisle deciding between slivered almonds and crushed ones when I noticed a store associate standing in my peripheral vision for a while. A few minutes into our conversation that began when he approached to offer his help, I realized the man wasn’t wearing a Stop&Shop apron. It turns out he didn’t work there at all. He told me he had been watching me, and just knew he had to talk to me.
When I moved towards the registers, the man poured out compliments, his voice filled with desperation: that I was beautiful, stunning, there was something special and mature about me. He said he wanted to talk to me more. I declined. Question after question continued. He asked if I was home on break from college and I answered no, that I was only sixteen. At that, the man gripped his chest and let out a soft moan as if my age had pained him in some way. He said it couldn’t be possible and that he was 29. I assured him it could. (I wore braces, still had chubby cheeks, and was a late bloomer). Again, this man persisted, saying that if I wouldn’t give him my phone number, then I could at least give him my email. “You don’t even have to reply all the time if you are busy with school,” he pressed. “I could just be like a mentor to you for a few years until you’re ready.” I didn’t ask what exactly I would be ready for. I paid for my groceries and told him my mother was waiting for me in the car.
