The Cashier by Trish Cantillon

The Cashier | Trish Cantillon

I pulled the wrinkled dollar bill from the front pocket of my too-tight shorts and laid it next to the bag of M&Ms. The Cashier looked at me, then at the candy.  I knew I wasn’t supposed to eat candy because of my diet, but he didn’t.  Or at least I assumed he didn’t.  

I lied when I told my mom I was going to hit tennis balls against the backstop near the courts in the apartment complex we lived in.  My real destination was The Grog Shop, the convenience/liquor store in the lobby of our building.  

He lingered too long with my dollar in his hand, “You don’t need these,” he said, “They’re really bad for you.”  It was as if time stopped.  I was frozen, unsure what to do, but certain I didn’t want to put the candy back.  My humiliation gave birth to another lie, “They’re not for me, they’re for my brother,” I answered and made sure to put my racket on the counter so he could see I was an athlete, not an overweight twelve-year-old girl desperate for the M&M’s she would eat in secret.

About the Author:

Trish Cantillon is a native Angeleno, and lover of California. She’s published personal essays on Brevity, Hippocampus (one of top 10 most read essays in 2023), The Fix, Refinery 29’s “Take Back the Beach,” The Manifest Station and Ravishly, among others.  .