There’s a First Time for Everything
By Mary Combs
January 2000

“Got your list?”

“Yes, I’ve got my list,” Nick said, getting out of the car. “Nat, this is not the first time I’ve ever been in a supermarket.”

“It’s the first time you’ve bought some of the things on that list,” she said meaningfully, winking at him as she pulled out a shopping cart for each of them.

“True, doctor, true. Where do we begin?”

“At the beginning,” Nat said, pulling her notebook out of her purse and leading him toward the produce section...

“No, no, no,” she whispered under her breath as she examined and then rejected a series of tomatoes.

Nick watched, his brow slightly furrowed as he tried to figure out what was wrong. “They look fine to me,” he said. “I mean, they’re red and everything.”

“Hmph. They may be red, but they won’t have any flavor. Here, smell.” She thrust one of the smooth-skinned fruits under his nose.

Nick inhaled obligingly, then shrugged his shoulders. “Actually, I don’t know what they’re supposed to smell like, Nat. Tomatoes came to Europe... after.”

“There’s nothing to smell. That’s the problem. If it doesn’t smell like a tomato, it won’t taste like one. Same goes for peaches and pears, too.”

“Now those, I remember.” He shook his head as he looked around the laden shelves. “Although we only ever had them in season..... And I never tasted an orange until the cru... until I was in the East. Amazing.....”

Nat looked up to see the familiar, slightly glazed look that came over Nick’s eyes when he was stuck in a memory. She nudged him gently in the ribs, and he blinked and came back to the present, grinning at her.

“Well, doctor, in the interests of efficiency, I think we’d better split up. Think I’m ready to solo?”

He came to attention. Nat sketched a faint salute that Nick returned with precision, spoiling the effect somewhat by kissing her on the cheek as he went off toward the opposite end of the store.

"...Creme rinse, hairpins, Kleenex.” Natalie said with satisfaction, crossing the last items off of her list.

“Help.” Nick’s whispered plea came just an inch from her ear, and, as always, he succeeded in startling her half out of her boots.

“Don’t *do* that,” she said punching him in the chest, without much conviction.

“Sorry. But Nat, I’m desperate.”

“What’s wrong?”

Without a word, he took her by the hand and led her into the next aisle. He gestured helplessly at the display before them.

“How do I choose? So many different brands — not to mention sizes, and strengths.... although there doesn’t seem to anything less than ‘super.’ I mean — it’s ridiculous!”

“Yes, it is, isn’t it,” she agreed, barely suppressing her laughter. “But that’s the wonder of free enterprise.”

“Nat, when I was...” he looked around and lowered his voice, “mortal.... we didn’t.... we just didn’t use anything like this.” He paused while a woman with a cart full of disposable diapers and an angelic-looking baby eased down the aisle beside them. Distracted, they both watched her passage with wistful smiles.

Nat snapped out of it first. “You were saying, back in the olden days.....”

“I mean, we washed more often than some people give us credit for, but still...” he chuckled. “Perspiration was supposed to be healthy.”

“Ewwww. How did you stand it?” She was teasing him, of course, and when he looked down she was wrinkling her nose so charmingly that he could not resist the temptation to kiss it, just once, before answering.

“We got used to it. It was part of the background noise — like wood smoke and manure. Everything smelled like a farm. You only noticed if someone smelt particularly bad — or particularly good.” She was smiling now and he couldn’t resist the temptation to kiss her again, this time, on the mouth.

Natalie gave into the kiss briefly, savoring the softness of his lips, the smoothness of his freshly shaved cheek and the spicy scent of his cologne. Then she laughed and pulled away. Nick let her go, reluctantly.

“Okay, how about something that goes with your aftershave?” She pointed to a row of containers.

“Right, but that still doesn’t answer the burning questions: stick, roll-on or spray? And what magnitude?” Nick said lugubriously.

Natalie picked a container at random. “Here, try this and if it doesn’t do the trick, try something else.”

“Okay.” Nick smiled at her, a little shyly. “Nat, if.... I mean, would you....”

She grinned back. “Yes. I promise. I’ll tell you if I think you need something.... stronger. Of course, you can’t really be sure until it’s been tested.”

“Tested? How?”

“Well, you have to see if it holds up after a certain amount of... exertion.”

“Exertion?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

“Moderate or strenuous? Prolonged or intermittent?”

“Well, preferably all of the above.” She looked up into twinkling blue eyes and a mischievous smile, and felt the color rising into her cheeks. “I mean, you know, scientifically speaking, one couldn’t make a judgment without thorough analysis of all the variables,” she added, gamely maintaining eye contact, although she was having a very hard time getting her breath.

“So, Doctor, you require more data in order to come to a conclusion?” His face was so close to hers she could feel his breath on her cheek.

“Yes,” she sighed. His fingertips were on her face now, lightly tracing a trail of fire down to her throat.

“I think we can manage that,” Nick murmured against her lips....

“Ahem.”

They separated reluctantly and turned somewhat dazed glances toward an elderly gentleman who was trying — not very successfully — to glare disapprovingly at them over the rim of his spectacles. He waved a hand dismissively when they started to apologize.

“Just hand me one of those cans of shaving cream behind you, son... yeah, that’s it.” He tucked it in his basket and gave them a wink. “As you were...”

Natalie turned back to find Nick tossing assorted brands of deoderant and antiperspirant into his basket with abandon.

“What *are* you doing?”

“Getting one of each.” He grinned over his shoulder at her. “Far be it from me to impede the workings of the scientific mind.”

“Nick,” she laughed, “at this rate, the experiment might last....”

“Forever. C’mon. Last one to check out is a rotten egg.” He deftly wheeled his cart around her and sprinted toward the front of the store, laughing at her over his shoulder, his hair glinting gold in the sunlight pouring through the windows behind the cash registers.

The End