Or would the parent/guardian be inhibiting some form of self-expression in not allowing the child to make sure two hundred dollars worth of groceries were not too cold?
Of course, Yunho did not ask the question; although he dearly wanted to. He dearly wanted to look up to the professional, in all his limitless knowledge and ask if the word “no” when coupled with some deeper, did not change things a bit. For one does not raise a child with words. A child is not raised, but kept and cherished, far more precious- One stands in front of the child, behind them-ready to stop the world, and carry the child to safety.

Turning back to Jaejoong, reaching his hand out for his brother to hold, he said again, very softly and very firmly, “No Jae. We’ll go to the store first.”

And Jaejoong, taking Yunho’s hand with both of his own, a smile blossoming over his mouth as he held his brother’s hand, replied, “Okay, Yunho Okay-okay!”
* * *
The store they were heading to was a small local market, just on the edge of town. Standing in business for nearly thirty years, the market was a fixture, practically a land mark. One of the first sights seen when crossing into town, one could tell the years were fast approaching the structure, which looked like it had stepped out of a some Norman Rockwell painting. The bricks on the side had lost their rough texture from countless years of weather and wear, and were now nearly smooth. The low-slung roof boasted of shingles whose continuing sturdiness seemed a wonder. No neon sign, lit up so that it might be visible from space, decorated the store, only a hand-painted sign, standing to greet visitors on the edge of the parking lot; but somehow far more welcoming than the generic LED sign, boasting to stay lit twenty-fours a day, for your shopping convenience.

Maybe the entire staff consisted of twenty people, all of whom Yunho knew, if not by name, than at least very well by face. And though the chain-stores would have one believe that all their produce was washed and sterilized to absolute cleanliness, requiring an amorphous staff, who knew little, if anything, about produce and were loathe to help a customer-Yunho saw in this local market, fresh clean produce and a generous crew.

However, it was not that Yunho harbored some distaste for the ever-growing number of convenient mega-marts; in fact, he enjoyed that not only could he enter one of them and get everything he needed on his grocery list, but traverse to the opposite side of the store and find shoes for his brother or a new sweater, as everything one might need was right here in the mega-mart for one’s shopping pleasure. And several had been the times when it would have been easier to just run in and get what he needed and be on his way. And, the young man did not deny that the prices at the chain-stores were lower due to high turn over rate.

However, despite that Yunho enjoyed supporting the local community, despite that he enjoyed being able to walk in through those squeaky revolving doors and have an employee smile at him, there was another reason he no longer went into the big name mart stores.

The day, had been like so many others. Sitting in the car, wondering why when he truly wanted, needed to be someplace, traffic crawled at a pace a snail might laugh at, Yunho weighed, with a school function later that night, he might be better off taking Jaejoong home now and get him cleaned up, or take the time to run into the store and get a few things so there might be dinner later that night. The problem was a perplexing one as Jaejoong desperately needed to be cleaned up, as today had been “art day” and the remains of the day were to be found on his hands, his face and all over his clothes. Jaejoong had even announced, himself, upon getting into the car, that he looked like a rainbow. And there was absolutely no way Yunho was going to let him get up in front of his teachers and all the parents looking like a human tie-dye experiment; Jaejoong needed to go home, store or not.

Through three stop lights Yunho pondered the situation and perhaps he might not have gone to the store at all if, right on the corner, there had not stood a mega-mart. It was right there, and little time would be lost in going in; and then Yunho could race home and get his brother cleaned up, go back to school and still have the makings for dinner when they got home.

So, with a sharp turn, Yunho pulled the car into the expansive parking lot, saying to Jaejoong that they were going to go right in and right out. And Jaejoong, busy with trying to scrape a rather large blotch of red paint off his hand, nodded quietly.

How easy it all started.

Now, there were times when Yunho made sure he kept Jaejoong’s hand in his when they were in stores, as he knew that, sometimes, with all the sounds and bright lights, Jaejoong got excited and simply ran in the direction of whatever caught his eye. Yunho knew that, but this day, in a rush, he simply did not think to take his brother’s hand. After all, they were not to be long in the store as it was. So, his strides long and quick, an internal clock ticking away, reminding him that precious time was slipping, Yunho told Jaejoong to stay close, heard him say he would, and did not think of anything else.

Yet, standing in one of the aisles, there came a sharp tap on Yunho’s shoulder, followed by a rather descending tone of voice.

“Excuse me, sir. But is that-young man over there-yours?”

With a cold sinking feeling in his stomach, Yunho turned around. About three aisles over, totally unaware of everything around him, Jaejoong stood in front of a pet display of goldfish. The slender hands the plexi-glass as the gold-speckled fish floated by, trying to pet them. And the tender face, so fair and gentle, was lit up in such bright glee, a dazzling effervescence as if the best and most wonderful of presents had been laid out in front of him, just for him.

But that was not the problem. The sharp tap to Yunho’s shoulder and the insolent tone that followed came not from Jaejoong’s delight over the fish. No.

It was the disconnect. For, to the eyes of the world, Jaejoong was a young man, whose amusements should not be goldfish in a tank; yet there he stood, talking to the fish, laughing when one of them turned suddenly or opened its mouth. This was not normal. And some of the customers who walked by pointed, and stared, and began to make a wide berth around him. Delighted at the pretty gold orbs floating by him, sure that if he rested his hand in just the right way, he might actually touch one of the small fish-Jaejoong was beginning to frighten people. And the store clerk wanted him gone, taken care of.

Feeling as if an ugly hand wrenched his throat, Yunho strove to answer the clerk, “Umm. Yea. He’s-he’s my brother.”

“Is he,” there came a cruel pause, “Alright?”

“Yes,” Yunho croaked, “He’s fine. But I’ll go get him.”

And the whole thing might have ended very simply. Granted the clerk had been disgustingly rude. Sure. But the scene would not have gone further.

However, as Yunho began to make his way over to Jaejoong, trying to fight the hand grasping at him so tightly, the young man heard the clerk make one more comment.

“Maybe next time, sir, you might consider some kind of restraining device for him when you go out.”

As if he had been cut across the back, as if a whip slashed into his flesh, Yunho gasped and spun around, a dangerous light in his eyes.

A restraining device? A strap that either clasped around his brother’s chest or wrist, the other end to be held firmly in his hand. A leash. Yes, a leash for humans, for unruly humans who got in the way of the rest of decent society. Who interrupt important routines, who turn heads because they are-different.

Turning around, a terrible glint in his eyes, the clerk stepped back, crouching as if he feared Yunho might hit him. But Yunho, though he wanted very dearly to take the near-by can of baked beans and shove it down his throat, clenched his teeth and demanded for a manager.

What, exactly Yunho said to the manager he could no remember now. The only thing he recalled was the severe razzing the clerk received from the manager and how the man practically shrunk down into his shoes.

As it was though, that day marked the last Yunho ever went into a mega-mart store.

Pulling into the parking lot, Yunho got out, catching Jaejoong’s hand in his own as they made their way inside. Jaejoong bounced as they made their way in, asking Yunho if he could push the cart and if, today, he could pick the cereal. Trying to think what exactly to buy, as he had not made out a list, Yunho nodded to his brother’s questions, only making sure that even as Jaejoong began to push the cart, Yunho kept one hand on his shoulder. For it amazed Yunho that even in a store of so few aisles, there had been times Jaejoong slipped from his sight.

Moving slowly through the produce section, piles of bright fruits, jewel-tone vegetables, Jaejoong handed Yunho plastic bags which he filled with lemons, apples, kiwi, eggplant, fresh asparagus, tomatoes and onions.

From behind him, Yunho listened to his brother talk quietly as each new bag was placed in the cart. Jaejoong told the fruit how pretty it was today; he asked the vegetables if they were cold. And to hear him speak so gently, so confidently, as if he knew that though the fruits and vegetables could not answer him, they understood him none the less-Yunho tried very hard not to smile. And he wondered, as he so often had, if maybe it was that he could not hear the answers-but Jaejoong did.

Moving on into the deli section, the butcher hollered a greeting to Yunho and Jaejoong as they came over.

“Hey! Yunho-ah and Jaejoong! How are you two today?”

Hopping up and down, only restrained from slamming the cart right into the counter by Yunho’s hand on his shoulder, Jaejoong exclaimed, “We’re good!”

The butcher smiled, and asked, “Can I get you anything today?”

Peering in to the glass case, Yunho replied, “Yea. I think so. Can I get a pound or so of flank steak?”

“Sure. I’ll you what, I’ve got some fresher in the back. I’ll cut it for you.”

“Thanks, Sid,” Yunho replied, noticing Jaejoong’s concentrated attention on the various cuts of meat.

“Yunho,” he asked, after a moment. “Yunho? Where does beef come from?”

The dark eyes were very concerned.

Yunho felt his answer carefully, gently. “Beef comes from a cow, Jae.”

“But not a live cow?”

“No, Jae. Not a live cow.”

“From a milk cow?”

“Milk cows are for milk, Jae,” he replied, softly.

“Then,” and here Jaejoong paused, looking very hard at the meat. “Then beef comes from a beef cow?”

“Yea, Jae.”

The young man watched his brother nod understandingly. Milk from milk cows and beef from beef cows.

The butcher came back with a package of the flank steak wrapped very carefully in white paper. He handed it to Yunho with a smile, waving to Jaejoong as they walked away.

Through the rest of the aisles they moved, Yunho trying to think what he was going to make with each new item placed in the cart. Sometimes Jaejoong would stop and point, asking very earnestly if they were going to buy it, if he could have it. To these questions, Yunho’s answers alternated-sometimes yes, sometimes no.

By the time they reached the check-out aisle, the cart was respectably full, as Jaejoong took great care to push it. The lady standing behind register smiled at Jaejoong as he struggled to get the cart into the aisle, pushing and maneuvering, back and forth. Her greeting to him was gentle.

“Hello, Jaejoong. How are you today?”

And the boy, at the sound of her voice, blushed, burying his face into Yunho’s side in delight. Yunho could hear him giggle. And leaning down, catching Jaejoong around the shoulders, he said-

“Go on, Jae. Tell her how you are.”

And Jaejoong, barely turning out from Yunho, his voice muffled by his brother’s shirt, replied, “I’m-I’m-fine. I’m fine!”

And then, with a delighted giggle, he smashed his face back into Yunho’s side, the fair cheeks, blushing a rosy red.