Wednesday, May 13, 2020

The drugstore is nearly empty when I come in. The man at the door scans my forehead with a thermometer and nods. I head straight for the back. No one is in line. I approach the counter. The pharmacist doesn’t look up from his phone. “You need a number.” I go to the machine, take a number, and return to wait at the line marked on the floor. “OK.” I walk up and slide the number and my health system ID through the slot in the plexiglass divider. It wasn’t there the last time I was in the store. He scans the card. “What do you need?” I mention one drug, but I should get refills on everything. “Anything else?” I try to answer in Hebrew. I fail. The words I need leave my mind for the moment. I ask if he speaks English. “Sure,” he says. He has a dense Arabic accent, but each of us understands what the other is saying. He runs down the list of my medications. I say yes to each one. He goes and gets them and brings them back. He doesn’t need to count out or label anything. Everything comes in boxes of blister packs. “So where do you live?” Here, in the same town. “You don’t sound Israeli. Where are you from?” The US. But that’s never enough of an answer. “Where?” I rattle off where I’ve lived: New Jersey, DC, Ohio, Texas, California. Oh, and Brooklyn. “Brooklyn,” he repeats. People seem to think it’s the largest place in America. “You’re in tech.” I nod. “Where do you work here?” Also in the same town. “Still in tech?” Yes. “Still working?” Yes. “Wow. Respect.” I slide my credit card under the plexiglass and pay. He slides the boxes of pills, an empty bag, and the card back to me. “If you need to know anything about the medications, just ask.” I know enough. I’ve been taking most of them for a long time. I think of getting more things while I’m there. A long line has now formed at the registers up front. I decide against it. I maneuver around the other people and head out. The shawarma joint across the street is closed. The ice cream parlor two doors down is open. I’m tempted, but I haven’t eaten dinner yet. I grudgingly convince myself not to stop in. I take my earbuds out of my pocket, select another podcast, and wander on.