I paid for it myself.
When I handed her the bags, her eyes filled up with tears. “I can’t take all this,” she whispered. “Yes, you can,” I said.
“Go home.
Take care of your brother.”
She nodded fast. Then she ran.
The man stepped forward next. He put a pack of gum on the conveyor belt and barely seemed to know where he was.
“You only want this?” I asked.
He blinked. “Yes.”
He paid, took it, and went out after her. That should have been the end of it.
It wasn’t.
I got home after midnight, checked Dana’s temperature, made sure she took her pills, and listened while she apologized for being expensive. I hated when she did that.
“You’re not expensive,” I told her. She gave me a tired smile.
“Then why do you always look like you want to punch the electric bill?”
That made me laugh, but only for a second.
After she fell asleep, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. I kept seeing that little girl holding the milk. Kept hearing her say her mother’s name.
Marilyn.
I kept thinking about the man in the coat.
