DEADTIME

Limes

( By sharksofwrath on Reddit)

When I was sixteen I had a summer job delivering groceries for the local Mom and Pop market. It was 1994, and the AC in my old mustard yellow station wagon was not keeping up with the blistering July heat. After my fifth delivery of the day, I sat in the break room of the store putting my hair up and laying some wet paper towels on my neck. As much I begged my manager not to, he insisted I wear the polyester brown pants and orange polo shirt that was the standard uniform. I tried to tell him that the inevitable pit stains I would suffer at the hands of my sauna of a car would be off putting to customers, but he wouldn't hear it.

I was just starting to cool off when boss man barreled in the swinging door.

"Hey Steph, we got another delivery for you," he waved a receipt in front of my face.

I groaned and put my head on the table.

"C'mon kiddo, you could be out chasing carts all day like Robbie. Plus, it's only one item, and it isn't too far."

"Too far" ended up being about 15 miles out of town. The drive only took about twenty minutes, but that's a road trip in small town time. Sticky beads of sweat were running down both sides of my face, and my throat was burning from the smell of my engine protesting the heat.

I glared at the box of limes in my back seat through my rear view mirror. That was all the customer ordered. A single, goddamn, twenty pound box of limes. What could possibly prompt someone to order an entire box of limes on the hottest day of the year? They weren't on sale, so that ruled out obsessive "couponers", those housewives who spent their lives trying to save a penny on a gallon of hand soap. And, considering we were a dry county, I doubted it was some sort of last minute margarita emergency.

After passing mile after mile of corn fields and turnip patches, I turned my car onto a dirt road leading up to what looked like an old ranch that had been out of commission for a long time. It was lined with broken wooden fences, overgrown weeds baked by the sun, and bails of rusting chicken wire were scattered to either side. My car was creating a massive dust cloud, but through the haze I made out a two story farm house about a hundred yards away. That was when I realized it wasn't just dust I was trying to see through, steam and smoke bellowed out of the hood. My engine had finally had it. I turned off my car, glaring at the house.

I hoped the owners could spare a cup of coolant when I got to the door, or at least their phone so I could call my dad. Peeling myself off the vinyl seats and into the dusty heat, I grabbed my citrusy cargo and headed off.

The distance hadn't seemed so bad when I was driving, but now it just looked further with every step. The box just kept getting heavier. The heat was bringing out the oil in the lime's skin, their perfume-like smell hit me in the face, stinging my eyes, like they were mocking me. Doesn't everything feel so personal when you're a teenager?

When I finally got to the porch of the old house, sweat was running into my eyes, I dramatically dropped the box and banged on the screen door. A scraggly man, who looked to be in his late 20s opened the interior door. He stared at me with a confused look on his face.

"Y-you're not Robbie," he wrung his hands together.

"Um, no, I'm Stephanie. I brought your box of limes, and I was hoping I could--"

"I thought they would send Robbie," he was agitated.

"No, Robbie backed his car into Mrs. Adjimi's mail box last week, so they took him off deliveries. Also, I was really wondering if I could use your phone."

"My what?" he looked at me wildly.

Looking back, it was definitely stupid to insist that the irate and unkempt man, who clearly did not want me to be there, let me inside his house.