To the Eight-Year-Old Girl in the Supermarket Parking Lot

I’ve seen the old women here before, with their frizzled grey-hair and lined faces, but never you. The old women seem to be here most mornings, at the pair of wooden tables someone has dragged to the corner of the parking lot, sheltered against the wind and out of view of the supermarket entrance. They spread their wares: a dozen cucumbers, a green onion, a few sprigs of dill. Sometimes, someone will bring a jar of salted cucumbers. Occasionally, there are misshapen knitted socks or barely used baby shoes. They chat loudly to each other and to the passers-by in Russian, sternly staring at the supermarket shoppers as we walk past, as if they might will us into buying a cucumber. I always glance at the tables and then quickly look down again, scurrying away before anyone can attempt to interact with me.

Today, my eye was caught by three piles of ripe tomatoes, first, and then a little girl with dirty-blonde hair behind the table. You, squirming on the bench, eager to be active. It’s late August and the supermarket is full of back-to-school specials. I imagine your parents are tired of you, so you’ve been sent to sit on an old wooden bench in the parking lot while your babushka gossips with her friends.

I glance at her lined face, half of her teeth missing, a spiders web of crows feet spreading across her face, watching me. Before I knew it, we’d made eye-contact and she was talking to me in Russian.

I shrugged apologetically but, for once, didn’t immediately turn away. Thinking of her as a babushka rather than just a severe old woman made me want to try. “Hello,” I said, hoping to establish English as the language of choice. I pointed at the tomatoes.

She said something to you rapidly and you stared at me with a deer-in-the-headlights look. She then motioned at me, that I should tell you what I want.

You said nothing, presumably not expecting a pop-quiz in English on a lazy Sunday morning. She said something biting to you, something that looked suspiciously like “go on, talk foreign!”

“Two,” I said in English, picking up the two largest tomatoes.

You opened your mouth and closed it again. Babushka took the tomatoes and replaced them into their piles, using hand gestures until I understood that I couldn’t just pick the best tomatoes, I should choose one of the piles. Of course! Who would buy the little ones, otherwise?

I nodded and pointed at one pile. “How much?”

She nudged you, hard.

You looked at me like you were hoping the asphalt would open up a crevasse and swallow you whole. “Five,” you finally said.

“Euros?” I continued.

“Yes,” you said in a tiny voice, holding up a worn wallet to show me where the money would go.

“OK, very good.” Obviously I had to buy them now. I handed you a five-euro note. “Thank you,” you said perfectly.

“Thank you,” I replied, as Babushka handed me my tomatoes in a bag. And then in Russian, “Spasibo.”

As I left, Babushka spoke again.

I paused, confused, unable to make sense of her hand gestures. I drew closer and she held up a cucumber and nudged you again.

You screwed up your face in concentration. “Want?” you asked, clearly dying for the interaction to be over with.

“No, I don’t want cucumbers, not today,” I said, with a smile, prompting you with the words that might come in useful if some other English speaker came to your parking lot, ignoring the fact that I was the only English speaker in town that spoke neither Estonian nor Russian. “Thank you.”

I left more quickly this time, hoping the tomatoes would justify the expense. Behind me, I heard your small voice one last time. “Goodbye,” you called out.

I turned and waved. “Goodbye!”

Your babushka looked proud; you looked relieved. You did well, I thought. You could have just refused to say anything at all but you tried, clearly dredging up the words from the silt of last year’s lessons.

And I thought, as I climbed the stairs to my apartment with an unexpected bag of tomatoes in my hand, that this could count as my good deed for the day. Because I’m pretty damn sure that this year, you are actually going to pay attention in English class.