A Brush With Celebrity
About 12 years ago, my mother had a brush with celebrity. I happened to be with her.
We went up to the local Fay's Drug Store on Lake Avenue. My mother was in full shopping mode. What I mean by full shopping mode for Marlene is this: she picks up items in a store, looks at them with amazement and puts them down. It's like watching someone who came from an Eastern Bloc country go into a Western store for the first time. Shopping with Marlene is a time-consuming process.
My mother walked slowly up and down the aisles of our local Fay's, stopping to sniff perfumes or touch knic-knacs. I walked with her--I was in a sullen teen state. I probably went with her to get out of my house.
It was then my mom saw her. Serial killer Arthur Shawcross' girlfriend.
She was possibly the most famous person my mom had run into in all her years shopping at Fay's Drug. My mom was able to instantly recognize her face from hours of watching the trial on TV.
"Kim!," she exclaimed in a loud whisper while nudging me. "Do you know who that is?"
"No," I responded, petulantly.
"It's Arthur Shawcross' girlfriend!" Marlene was excited. Before I could say anything to her, she had turned her cart around in the aisle and was on pursuit of the girlfriend.
I reluctantly followed her.
"Are you sure, Mom?" I asked. God, this was embarrassing!
"Yes!," she hissed, watching the woman.
"His girlfriend...or his wife?" I wanted to get the story straight. Between snow days and banging in sick, I watched the entire Arthur Shawcross trial on TV during my sophomore year of high school.
"His girlfriend," my mom answered in an impatient whisper. She suddenly bolted the cart forward as the girlfriend left the aisle.
I quickly lost interest in my mother's cat-and-mouse game involving the serial killer's girlfriend. I went to the magazine section and absorbed myself in the latest exploits of Guns-n-Roses.
My mother must have spent at least a half hour following this woman around the store. I think she was trying to track her consumer habits: after all, I'm sure people have always wondered what a serial killer's girlfriend buys at Fay's Drugs.
I spotted my mom in line, ready to pay. I brought the magazine up to the register with me to slip it into my mom's order. She didn't notice. She was behind the girlfriend in line.
On the drive home, my mother chatted away about Arthur Shawcross' girlfriend. She had a list of what the woman bought, but I forgot what it was.
I guess my interest in the purchasing habits of serial killers' girlfriends is not as strong as my mom's.
