By Mimi Demas
She’s just debating on whether to buy pulp or no pulp.
“Does anyone even like pulp?” Robiel says, not even glancing up.
Sara shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t like pulp but we always buy it. Do you think Mom cares?”
I shift my hips and say, “I have to pee.”
Sara finally looks at me over her shoulder. “I know. You said so in the car. Just wait until we’re done shopping, Sweetie.”
I mumble an agreement. I try to keep moving as much and as rigidly as possible. “I Got A Feeling” is playing on the Target intercom, with the occasional interruption from an employee calling a Jennifer or a Todd or a Queenie to various isles and registers for assistance. There’s about a hundred cases of water bottles in the isle that I’m awkwardly pacing past. My sister finally drops a pulp-free jug of orange juice into the cart and we continue shopping. We came here for fucking girl scout cookies. Why are we grocery shopping?
And then the bitch is back at it again with creamy or crunchy.
“Sara, I really have to-”
“Fine,” she snaps. “If you can’t wait then just figure it out yourself. I’m busy right now.”
I look at my brother, who still does not look up from his phone. I’ve never been in a Target before. I don’t know where the bathrooms are, but I do know I’m not getting any help from them.
So I’m wandering around Target for the next fifteen minutes, and I don’t know where the bathrooms are, and I have to pee so badly that I spend a solid five of those minutes standing in the diaper aisle quietly contemplating.
Then I leave because, you know, fuck that.
And I’m sidestepping (so my bladder doesn’t rip me a new one) to the Starbucks near the exit thinking, “Maybe they know where the bathroom is or maybe they’ll let me piss in a cup,” and then I see them. The bathrooms were right by the entrance.
That’s why my sister said to wait until we were leaving.
As I’m thinking this, the most populated Asian family I have ever seen in the state of Georgia walks in and just stops to stare at me. And that’s when I realize I’m fucking pissing myself in the entrance of a Target.