Fish Eyes

Dallas, a hot summer day and the line in the 7-Eleven store never ceased. Slurpees and Big Gulps were the favorite choices of the day, followed by Marlboro cigarettes and money orders sales. Yes, it was another typical Saturday afternoon on Denton Drive in Dallas, and I had the pleasure of working the registers by myself that day, but the typicality was about to be interrupted.

I was in the zone. Ringing up customers and serving their personal needs, I was able to send them on their ways, satisfied, with smiles on their faces. The customers came in, and the line never ceased. It was good though, for it made the day pass by quickly. The regular customers would come in, and we would greet each other cordially, and the ones I didn’t recognize would be greeted as well. Then, it happened.

A customer walked in, whom I had never seen before caught my eye. He was tall, thin, had a dark complexion, and sported a full head of black hair. Nothing about him stood out. Still, I felt there was something odd about this person and the hair raised on the back of my neck. If there was a warning sign about the evil that may lie within this person, it had to be his eyes. Lifeless, like a fish, who was stranded on a beach.

As I continued to take care of my customers, I watched him as he slithered through the aisles and navigated throughout the entire store. Aisle after aisle he paced through, often more than once. It was as if he was either casing the store, waiting for the customers to clear out, or both. After what seemed like an eternity, he came through the checkout line. A young lady was just in front of him, and as I was ringing her up, I saw her jump and turn towards that man. It wasn’t until later I found out he had grabbed her ass. I rung the man up and was glad to see him walk out the door. I felt relieved, but still that feeling of dread failed to pass.

As the afternoon dragged on, I would occasionally look out the front window, observing who was pumping gas or just passing by. Suddenly, a familiar face walked past the window and my heart skipped a beat. The man with the fisheyes was lingering around in front of the store. It was late in the afternoon, and business was slowing down, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before the store would be empty. My mind began to race. “Is he waiting for the store to empty so he can rob me?” This was 1987, and there were no security cameras in the store, no panic buttons, and I had no one working with me. I was alone and unarmed. The training I received from 7-Eleven said if we were robbed, we shouldn’t resist. Just give him whatever they want and hopefully all will be well. Still, I couldn’t forget those fisheyes.

Calling 911 was out of the question. There was no emergency, except for the dark scenarios running through my head. My customer count kept dwindling and was more than certain he was waiting for the right time. Not knowing what else I could do, I called the police station.

The Desk Sergeant answered the phone, and I told him about my situation, and he asked, “Do you want us to do a welfare check?” I wasn’t sure exactly what that was, but if it brought the police to my store, I was all for it. I hung up the phone and waited for them to arrive.

Unlike earlier in the afternoon, time began to drag. Every so often, I could see that man hiding around the corner, standing by the phone booths. Only a couple of customers were left in the store, and there was no sign of the police. I began praying for more customers to show up, giving me more time for the police to appear. Then, a squad car pulled up, and two policemen stepped out of the vehicle.

Though they were partially out of my view, I heard a commotion between them, and the next thing I saw was the police handcuffing the man. Shortly after, another squad car pulled in and then the commotion continued. A few minutes there, they put the man in the back of the first squad car. As they were sitting him down, I could see the look of anguish on his face and tears rolling out of his eyes. When the car pulled away, the sergeant from the second car came into the store and told me what had happened.

“The man you reported to us was wanted for murder. Last month, there was a robbery in another convenience store, and they found the body of the store clerk lying in the walk-in cooler. I’m not sure that would have happened here, but in my opinion, you were lucky today.” He thanked me for my participation and left.

After that, things returned to normal. As my shift was about to be wrapped up, the young lady who was accosted returned to the store and thanked me. For some reason, she thought the police had arrested that man for groping her. I didn’t have the heart to say what really went on and she really was worth the police’s time. So, I said, “You’re welcome and glad that you are okay.”

I often look back at that time in my life and wonder how or why that man caught my eye and why my hackles were raised when I saw him. Scientists would say it was a primordial instinct that raised my internal alarm. The religious would say I had a guardian angel, or the Holy Spirit was protecting me. As for what I believe, in think it was just fate. His days of freedom had come to an end, and I happened to be the one to put him away.