sapphire

Sapphire is not my passenger but rather the wife of my passenger. I learn this when she—Sapphire—texts me to inform me that I’ll be collecting her husband in front of Saint Vincent’s hospital. 

It turns out Sapphire just had a baby the night before. 

“I’m a father,” Sapphire’s husband replies when I ask him how his day is going. “I just had a son last night.” 

“What?! That’s awesome! I wish I had a cigar or something!” 

It’s their first, and everybody’s doing great. He’s been sent to Walmart to pick up diapers and other supplies. Before we even make our way out of the sprawling hospital complex, Mr. Sapphire calls Sapphire on speakerphone. It’s sweet, I think, they’re checking in on each other. 

But then Mr. Sapphire surprises me.

“Baby, I’m afraid to go into Walmart.”

“I know you are, baby,” Sapphire tells him, “but it’s okay; you got this. Just get the diapers and the other things on the list.” 

“But I know I’m gonna buy a TV or something. I know how they do. I used to work there. They lay all that stuff right out in front of you to distract you and tempt you.” Sapphire reassures him again, and he hangs up.

I tell him I sympathize. I go into Walmart with my little list of six things, and an hour later, I’m pushing a shopping cart overflowing with nine things, none from my list, but: “You know, oh cool, I hadn’t thought of that, and wow, it’s cheap!“ Only it’s not cheap because the total comes to $194.86, so before I’m even in the car, I feel depressed and ashamed at my privilege, mental weakness, and failure to complete my mission. And we’re not even talking about diapers for my first baby. So yeah, I feel you, Mr. Sapphire.  

“No, listen, you’re sleep-deprived, so you really gotta dial in.” I coach him as I pull into the Walmart parking lot. “You know the layout already. Avoid the front-end displays and the back wall with the flat screens. Instead, make a bee-line for some random spot in the middle of the store: maybe bath mats or candles. Take out your list once you’ve dropped anchor in the middle of nowhere. Do you have a pen? Wait, here, take mine. Just bob in that dead zone and sketch a little map right on your list. Then, you just follow the line like a fuckin’ robot, you feel me?” Now he’s laughing out loud.

“Thanks, man. Five stars!” We fist bump.             

“Hell, yes! You got this.”

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