Or Not to Be by Laura Lanni Page B

asked for her name and looked her up that way. He
didn’t even ask for identification.
    So when it was my turn and I was asked for
my discount card, I lied and said, “I forgot to bring it.”
    Then he asked, “What’s your last name?”
    I
met Eddie’s smiling eyes and confessed, “I said ‘Muckenfuss.’”
    “Seriously? Muckenfuss?” Eddie mimicked what
the cashier was undoubtedly thinking when he’d asked me to spell it.
    “ Yep. Then I spelled it for him, but I
was nervous that I would get caught. When he asked for my first name, I lost my
nerve and thought I should just give it up and run. What if they were recording
the whole charade on a security camera?”
    “You’re sneaky and paranoid. And like an
onion. Year after year I just keep finding more interesting layers of my wife,”
he mused.
    “You’ll never know all of me. I’m way too
complex.” The wine was going straight to my head, which I rested on his
shoulder.
    “So, he found a Muckenfuss then?”
    “Yeah. That’s the funny part. I said
something like, ‘I think it’s probably under my daughter’s name,’ thinking that
would end the panic induced by lying. I was digging in my purse for some cash
when I heard him repeating, ‘Emily? Is it Emily? Ma’am, is your daughter
Emily?’
    “That’s when I realized he was talking to
me. I looked up from my mess of a purse with a dumb look on my face and mouth
hanging open and said something smart like, ‘Huh?’
    “He said, “You can use your daughter’s
card. We allow family discounts. Is her name Emily Muckenfuss?’
    “I said, ‘Yes. That’s her.’ My hand shook
as I gave him some cash, afraid to get caught if I used my credit card.”
    Eddie lost it. He doubled over laughing.
    “Shh!” I giggled with him. “Don’t wake
Joey.”
    “Oh, man, that was so worth the eight
bucks!”
    I still felt guilty about it and asked
Eddie’s opinion, hoping for reassurance. “ Was this petty theft? Did it cost
Emily Muckenfuss anything that I used her discount card and I didn’t even know
her?”
    Despite
his laughter, he didn’t disappoint me: Eddie took my side. “Nah. It’s the
store’s fault that their lax discount policy doesn’t require having the actual
card.” He hugged me and said, “Anna, the world is immensely improved by your
presence.”
    My
husband used to love me. And then, he stopped.
    | | | |
    A couple of years later , I was in a different bookstore with my kids in tow.
Bethany had Joey by the hand while we waited in the slow line to purchase a big
pile of books. I switched to the other line, but my presence just made that one
go slower and the other one speed up.
    When it was finally my turn, the cashier
asked for my membership card, and I was honest this time to make up for the
Muckenfuss saga and said I didn’t have one. He asked if I wanted one, and of
course I asked if they were free. He said not for most people but it would be
essentially free for me that day. He said the card cost ten dollars and gave a
ten percent discount. Since I was spending almost a hundred dollars, the
ten-dollar card and the ten percent discount would cancel each other out.
    Well! This was an entirely new way of
looking at things. No one had ever done the math for me before. I had no frugal
card left to play, so I pulled out my privacy-freak trump card and asked, “Do I
have to use my real name?”
    From my shoulder, I heard Bethany admonish
me with a two syllable, “Mom!”
    The clerk smiled indulgently and said,
“You can be whoever you wish to be.” He sort of sounded like a wizard. Or maybe
he was my fairy godmother. Bethany stood at my side, agitated and embarrassed,
likely calculating the years until she could drive herself to the bookstore and
avoid her mother’s shenanigans.
    As I considered my identity choices—Elvis,
Elizabeth Taylor, Freddy Mercury—I glanced at Bethany and winked. She rolled
her eyes when I said, “I am Martha Washington and I would like to buy a