Her eyes bulge. “Is he alone?”
I nod.
This seems to set her off all over again. “He was sleeping when I left. I didn’t want to bring him with me in this heat. My aunt couldn’t miss work. I’m staying home with him. I’m old enough.” There’s anger in my tone, and I’ve already said too fucking much.
“I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re thinking. This is not your fault,” she assures me. “You’re a good brother.”
She rushes us to check out, and I stare at the sea of bags wondering how I’m going to haul it all home, but excited about the idea of Dom lighting up when he sees what’s inside them.
“Come on, let’s load the car and get you home.”
Relieved, I look her over. “You sure?”
“Of course. You didn’t think I’d let you carry this three miles, did you?”
The cashier gives her the total, and I stare at the screen, eyes wide. Two hundred and twelve dollars. She doesn’t even blink as she hands him three hundred dollar bills and puts the change in one of my bags. I look over at her, eyes wide.
“In case he needs more medicine,” she says, but I know it’s pity. And I fucking hate it.
Swallowing hard, I nod because I’m finding it hard to speak. I gather the bags and haul them to the car as she turns the ignition and flips on the AC. The drive home is silent as I glance at the back seat full of bags and then back at the woman gripping the wheel, her fingers turning white. I feel sorry for her, this sad pregnant woman, who’s so lonely she needed to shop with me to make herself feel better.
When she pulls into the driveway, I stop her from helping me. As nice as she’s been, I won’t invite her in. I rarely let any grown-ups near Dominic. I don’t trust them. I don’t trust anyone here. Once I haul the bags to the porch, I walk back over to the car and shut her back door, and she rolls down her window on the passenger side. “Thank you.”
“Really, please don’t thank me, it was my pleasure.” She shakes her head and again looks like she’s about to cry.
“I’m Tobias,” I tell her as if it matters.
“Thank you for keeping me company, Tobias.”
“I hope you have a better day.”
She bites her lower lip as if she might explode before she speaks. “You made it so much better. Thank you for indulging me.” She shakes her head. “You must think I’m crazy.”
“It’s like you said, you’re having a bad day. I was too. You made mine a lot better.”
“You’re a good kid. You deserve,” her eyes drift to the house, “you deserve a lot better than bad days.”
I shrug. “We all have them.”
“Thank you, Tobias.”
Weirded out about the last half hour and the goodbye, I turn to run up the stairs and drag the bags in, closing the door and locking it three times.
Once inside, I peek through the bent-up blinds to see her still parked in the driveway, head bent on the wheel, her body shaking.
She’s crying. A part of me wants to go to her. Mama always said never to let a woman dry her tears alone and never be the reason for them, but I wouldn’t know what to say to her. All I do is watch her for a few minutes before she wipes her face and pulls away. The aching feeling in my chest stays with me as I unpack the bags. Dom was still asleep when I poked my head in his bedroom. Lining up the cans in the empty narrow pantry, I feel relieved when I stare at the amount of food. No more starving before Delphine decides it’s dinner time. She rarely eats, so the stash will feed us for a few weeks. It’s when I hear Dominic pipe up behind me that my excitement kicks up.