I Take My Aunt to Wal-Mart

She eased out of the passenger side of the Honda without the usual fanfare of complaints and difficulty, her gaze focused on the shopping cart next to the car. I watched as she did a fast shuffle to snag a shopping cart to use instead of a walker. At ninety, she thinks a walker makes her look old. When I joined her at the curb, she was smiling triumphantly. I was puzzled because while her pace was slow, her determination belied her constant complaints about walking. Then she turned to me suddenly with a look of concern.

“Where is my cane? Oh, darn, I must have left it at home. Oh, Lord,” she exclaimed. She is a church going woman who doesn’t curse, certainly not in public.

“I’m not sure where you left it,” I say, knowing that I won’t go back and look in the car. Her performance in getting this far was surprising. Does she need the cane if the cart works?

We slowly roll from the parking lot towards the front door of Wal-Mart. I am wishing now that I had chosen someplace not so large. Like so many older people, she gets just inside the door of the store and stops dead in her tracks, oblivious to the people behind her entering the store. There is a lot that needs to be done here and I am working it out in my head now that I know that she moves so slowly. In front of us is the food section of Wal-Mart with display cases starting to the left, produce in front of us, everything else off to the right.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. “The meat section is over there,” I say pointing to the left.

“Where are you going?” she asks with some confusion. She is gripping the handlebar of the cart and not moving. “Chicken, we need chicken.”

“What? No, I need to get ground beef. Remember, I said I would cook meatloaf tonight.”

“Chicken,” she repeats, her top dentures perfect in their pink and whiteness. They give her a comical look because no one her age has natural teeth that perfectly formed. “We have to have something to eat. I need to get chicken. Don’t you want something to eat while you are visiting?

This statement is one of the many observations that alarm me and I have only been in town less than twenty-four hours. She has forgotten our grocery shopping plans made less than an hour ago. I figured a meatloaf would last a few days and maybe some of it could be frozen for meals next week. Her mind is on chicken. She seems afraid there won’t be food at home for me to eat because she has so little in her freezer. She often forgets the Meals on Wheels daily delivery. I am annoyed about the chicken because she only likes dark meat and I only eat chicken breasts and neither of us ever accommodates the other

We move slowly over to the meat case. I point her to the poultry section while I check out the packages of ground beef.

“Why don’t you go ahead an start checking out the chicken while I look at the ground beef,” I say to her hoping to save time.

“No, I don’t want you to leave me,” she says.

“I’m going to be right here. Besides, you can’t lose me if you are only fifteen feet away.”

She pushes the cart over to poultry while I figure out Wal-Mart’s pricing and packaging. After I decide on the plastic wrapped four pound economy size of ground beef I walk over to where she is examining the packages of chicken. I can tell she is having a problem so I watch for a moment before jumping in to help.

“Do you see what you need?”

“I can’t find the wings.”

“Here they are. You can buy the small package for $4.97 or for a better deal this large one for $7.97.” She continues to go through all the identical packages and looks confused. She moves to the chicken thighs and then stops in confusion. I know what’s coming and I brace for it.

“How much are these?” She is frowning while trying to find the price on the package. It’s on the bin label, not the package.

“The price is right there on the label. They are all the same price. If you want the best deal, buy the larger package,” I say uselessly because I know she is frugal to the point of self-denial. I wait.

“How much is this again?” she asks as she again picks up the smaller package of chicken wings and frowns at it. She seems to be counting the number of wings.

“Four ninety-seven.”

“Oh. And how much is the big package?”

“It’s still seven ninety-seven.” I am starting to get irritated.

“I think Wal-Mart is too high. I don’t know why people think Wal-Mart’s prices are low because I know I can get a better deal at Save Rite. I think I’ll just wait and buy chicken later,” she says. This means we will visit another store and do this all over again.