Security

My friend and I made a list.
'Top five most important things in life,' she said. 'In any
order.'
I chewed on a nail and considered.
'Friends,' I offered.
'Good health?' she suggested. 'I mean, you won't go far without
it.'
'True. And love.'
At this, she laughed.
'We should be so bloody lucky!'
'Oh come on...'
'Yeah, sure. Love's in there. But, in that case, so should peace of
mind. To counteract it.'
'Counteract what?'
'Love gone wrong.'
We both were silent for a while. Love goes wrong all the time, it
seems.
'Right,' she said, finally. 'What else?'
I suggested creativity. She made a 'hmm' noise.
'What about security?' she said. 'We all need a little security.'
'Yeah,' I agreed, 'we do.'
So security made it into the top five.

Security is quite tight at my local Tesco. They stand in twos, the
guards in their dark blue suits. They stand tall, even though most of
them are not. They are always watching.
'I've been watching you,' the man says. I look up, notice the suit, the
golden badge, the broad shoulders. Beyond them, his collegue by the
door has his eyes fixed on us.
'Officially?' I ask.
This is not the first time we've met. I'm always in here; he's always
on duty. He says hello, tells me I'm pretty, asks for my number. I say
hi, thanks and no. It's routine. But he doesn't normally leave his
post.
He's laughing now.
'No, he says. 'Not officially. I just noticed you've been wandering
around for half an hour.'
'Yeah,' I say. 'Can't decide what I want.'
He raises his eyebrows and looks down into my basket.
'Frozen pizza. Not cooking tonight then.'
'No. Can't be bothered.'
'How about I cook for you?' he suggests.
I giggle.
'I'm serious. Not tonight, but one day. Next week.'
'Thank you. But...'
'Thank you? Is that all I deserve?' He's laughing as he says it.
'I'm sure you deserve a lot. But I've gotta do my shopping,
yeah?'
'Ok,' he says. 'Let's go.'
He grabs my basket and heads towards the pasta and rice section.
'What are you doing?'
'Helping you with your shopping,' he replies.
'Right. Can I have my basket back please?'
'A girl like you shouldn't have to carry stuff around. That's a man's
job, innit?'
'Not really. And I'm used to it.'
'So your man sends you to do the shopping?'
'He does his own shopping. I do mine. And I like to carry my own
basket.'
With that, I pull the basket away from him.
'I like you,' he says.
'No shit.'
He laughs.
'You're cool. Your man's a lucky guy. I hope he knows it.'
They all say that.

My security guard follows me up and down aisles of frozen, fresh, dried
and tinned food. Through the clothes section and back towards the books
and CDs. Across the store, past the soft drinks, to the farthest
corridor, lined with bottles of wine and spirits. We talk a little
about London, the weather, about his country, Ghana, far away. Mostly
he tries to convince me that dinner's a good idea. That he just wants
us to be friends, get to know each other. I say it all sounds great in
theory but it doesn't actually work that way. I say: I'm very flattered
and all, but I'm getting to know somebody else right now.
'I know!' he says. 'I just don't see what the harm is, in giving me a
chance.'
I smile at him.It's not a smile of encouragement.
'He's a lucky guy,' he says again, in resignation.
We join the queue for the cashier, and he tries again.
'If I was your man, I'd do everything for you. I'd do the shopping, the
cooking, I'd even do the cleaning.'
The old lady queuing behind us finds this sweet.
'Isn't he a lovely young man?' she says.
Grateful for the support, he continues.
'I'd look after you, proper. I wouldn't let you walk around here on
your own. I'd stand guard at your door all through the night.'
The lady at the till is trying hard not to laugh.
'They're looking for you at the door,' she says to him. And to
me:
'Have you got a clubcard?'
I let him help me put my shopping into bags. It seems to make him
happy. Just as I'm about to go, he pulls a pen out of his jacket pocket
and scribbles his number onto my receipt. He puts it in my hand.
'I won't call you,' I say.
'Take it anyway.'
He walks me to the exit. I thank him for the company.
'Yeah,' he says. And as I walk away, he adds: 'If you were mine, I
wouldn't let you out of my sight.'

At home, the lights are off and the TV's flashing shadows across my
bedroom.
My boyfriend's asleep, the remote resting on his chest. I sit on the
edge of the bed.
'Hi,' he says, from somewhere inside a dream.
I pull my jeans off and the Tesco receipt falls out of my pocket.
'Babe?' I say. 'Would you carry my shopping basket for me?'
'What?' He sits up. 'I tried once. You wouldn't let me.'
'Oh, yeah.' I switch off the TV and slip under the covers, next to
him.
'Would you stand at my door all night, to keep me safe?'
'No,' he says. 'You know me, I'd probably fall asleep.'
We both laugh a little, because it's true.
'But,' he adds, pulling me closer to him, 'I'm right here with you.
Nobody can hurt you, you know that.'
'I know.'

With love, I guess I got lucky. And a little security goes a long
way.