She smiles at me. “You’re a smart one, huh?” She pushes the cart forward, and I follow.
“I have a really good memory.”
“That’s good. I wish I didn’t,” she says on a light laugh.
We move to the toy section, and I weigh the price of a few cars with the cash in my pocket when she lifts a set off the shelf.
“This is a set. He can have all of these.”
“I can’t…” Face burning again. I look away. “I don’t have the money for a set.”
“My treat. Please, it will make me happy.”
Dropping my eyes to her bulging belly, it feels wrong to let her. She can’t have a lot of money, either. Not with the car she drives and the clothes she’s wearing. I pull at the collar of my T-shirt, my skin growing hot. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to, really. Please let me.”
“Okay.” I give in because it’s all I can do. I have to get back to my brother. The same churning in my gut has me tapping my fingers on my thigh.
You locked it three times. Three.
She runs her fingers over the package as if it’s some sort of answer and adds a small blanket covered in cars into the mix of the rapidly filling cart.
“He’ll love that. He’s really into cars.”
This seems to perk her up. “What else does he need?”
Everything. New clothes and shoes. His parents. Throat burning, I look away. “Just a book. He’s getting better with his reading.” I don’t know why I felt the need to report this to her, but I feel like she wants to know, and I want someone, anyone, besides me to want to know. Hardly anyone from the meetings comes around anymore. From what I’ve gathered, a few months after death is the max for people to inquire about our well-being.
“A book, okay,” she smiles, though her eyes are watering again, and I clear my throat, uncomfortable with how emotional she is. This lady is suffering from way too many hormones. I play along with her, unsure of her reasons for helping me, and wonder if she, herself, will be able to afford everything she’s tossing in the cart. We go through the book section, and I pick out two. She grabs them from my hands before adding seven more. And then we’re in the grocery section as she clears a shelf of soup, tossing it into the cart along with some Gatorade, candies, and chocolates.
“He doesn’t eat chocolate,” I tell her.
“Do you?”
“Yeah, I love it.”
“Then they’re for you.”
“You really don’t have to do this,” I tell her, scanning the overflowing cart with apprehension.
“I really do.”
“Do you live in Triple Falls?” I need to take my mind off the time. He’s awake. I can feel it.
Three times. It’s locked, it’s locked.
Unable to help it, I glance at the plastic clock hanging just above the pharmacy. Seven-thirty. Sean will be heading over for his walk to school by now. If he’s asleep, it won’t be long before he wakes him. I have minutes to spare.
“No, I used to live here, but I moved away not long ago. I came back today to see someone…but I…” she shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter.”
I glance at the clock again, only half listening as my heart starts to race. If he’s hungry, he might try something stupid, like cooking an egg.
Except, we don’t have any fucking eggs. My palms begin to itch as I turn to her. “I need to get back to my brother. I need to go. Right now.”