Chili Powder

Part I
A Short Story by Heather Choate

“You can still find Chili Powder in El Paso,” a hurried voice whispered to me from the next isle. “But you didn’t hear it from me,” the mysterious informer added and disappeared behind a stack of creamed corn before I could identify them.

I glanced around nervously; sweat almost dripping from my fingertips. I scanned the isle in both directions. A young mother jostled a tiny toddler on her hip to my left, doing her best to keep the child quiet; wouldn’t want to break the noise ordinance, and an elderly man studied a tangerine far to my right. Neither appeared to have noticed, but that didn’t mean I was safe.

I couldn’t risk being caught looking for chili powder, and so I hurriedly grabbed a small container of rosemary, a very safe choice, as if that were my reason to this sketchy section of the grocery. The tiny wheels of my cart spun madly as I quickly exited it.

“Now, slow down there, dear,” a middle aged grocery worker cautioned me in a very clam tone, “Can’t be too hasty.”

“Right,” I answer, not too hastily. “Thank you for reminding me of the Correct Way.” I bowed my head in the customary fashion and he bowed his as well.

“You are quite welcome,” the man smiled and returned to his box of rice before the conversation could be seen as anything but completely platonic.

He didn’t see the scowl on my face and I did my best to hide it under a natural looking smile, the one I had practiced to perfection for the last two years, before the cameras saw it too. My emotion was heightening, which was not good. I decided to cut my shopping short and head home.

“Thank you for choosing Correct Consumer Care for your grocery needs today,” a young blonde with too fake eye lashes smiled at me from behind the cash register. “Did you find everything that you needed?”

Everything accept Chili Powder, I wanted to say, but knew what it would mean if I did. So instead, I smile back. “Of course I did.”

She smiled again, without a second thought to the slight undertone in my voice. “That’s nice.”

On official paper above the register I read the following notice:

Official Statement of the Elect Board
The use of the substance known as “Chili Powder” is herefore BANNED from all use, both public and private. Chili Powder has been associated with loud laughter, alcohol, and monotonous music and therefore CONDEMENED by the dually appointed leaders of the Correct Way.

Any persons found using this substance will immediately be detained and tried for public disturbance.

“That will be 16 Service Credits.” The cashier rang up the total. That’s a whole week’s worth of lawn care at the community learning center, and I didn’t even get everything that I needed. What am I going to make now with canned tomatoes, a box of dry cereal, and a few red apples?

She scanned my retina and the monitor registered that payment had been made. “Have a great day.” She beamed as I left.

I turned the key in the ignition and my car rumbled to life. There is a tap on my window. It is a man dressed from head to toe in pale gray. I recognized him as a serviceman at once and my heart started thudding madly. They’ve caught me. They overhead me in the spice isle and now I’m going to be taken in. I wrapped my fingers tightly around the steering wheel. I hope they give me a fair trial, if they do at all.

There is a second tap on the window and I know I can’t put it off any longer. I lowered the window. The serviceman misread the anxious look on my face.

“Concerned about your car?” he asked.

“What? My car?” Why is he talking about this? Why not just get it over with and lock me in the back of his deployment vehicle. I almost said this to him when he tapped on the hood.

“You really should have this looked at by the Vehicular Safety Inspections Department. The noise it made starting up doesn’t sound good.”

I can’t believe he is talking about my car. “Uh, yeah,” I pretended concern too.

“If you want I can tow you there right now,” he offered. “It isn’t far.”

“Um, no, thank you,” I declined as politely as I could. I couldn’t risk being more than a few more seconds in his presence. “I have an appointment there already.”

He continued to look at me and I hoped he didn’t catch my lie. “Tomorrow,” I added, to further assuage him.

He seemed to accept this. “Tomorrow then,” he said and gave the hood another clonk. “Consider investing in a better vehicle in the future.”

“I will,” I did my best to smile. “Thank you for your help.”

The serviceman nodded and walked away. I raised the window. In the confides of my own car, I took a deep breath to steady myself. I knew he would still be watching me. He was. Feeling shaky, I put the car in reverse and hoped he wouldn’t follow me.

I glanced out the rearview mirror as I turned right, away from the store. He didn’t follow me. I took another deep breath. My name should be disaster obverted, not Sandy.

© Heather Choate