Chapter 1 #2
She swung back around and shuffled up. The surgeon followed too, but kept a huge gap between them. If the situation was reversed, she would have done the same thing. But she told herself he wouldn’t think about her ever again after tonight.
Five agonizing minutes later, she found herself at the front of the line. A self-checkout machine opened up. She strode over and quickly scanned the Oreos and bread. Then she tapped her credit card against the screen to complete her transaction, but it failed.
With a groan, she muttered to herself, “This can’t be happening.” She tried a second time, convinced it scanned it wrong. It made an embarrassing loud beep that would’ve woken the dead.
The cashier running the three checkout registers came over. “Is everything okay?” Their wrist had a dangle of keys and cards hanging from it.
“No.” Brooke tapped her credit card again. “It’s not accepting my card.”
Beep. Beep. Beep. It blasted back at her, loud enough that a few other customers peered in her direction. Brooke tapped it again and again against the screen. This will work. The card is active.
“Let me see.” The cashier moved closer.
Brooke held up the card then slowly attempted to tap her credit card against the machine. It failed again. “See? This shouldn’t be happening. It’s your machine, not my card. I used it earlier today.”
“Oh.” They pointed to the big sign above the check-out screen. “We don’t accept American Express.”
“You don’t?” She wanted to shrivel into herself. “Since when?”
“Since last week, it’s too expensive. American Express charges exorbitant fees, too much for a little corner grocery store like us. The owner finally made the decision to not accept it anymore.”
“I see.” She squinted at the sign for a moment letting the realization that she had no other way to pay sink in.
The cashier’s forehead furrowed. “Do you have any other form of payment?”
“No.” Brooke stared down at the bread and Oreos. “I sure don’t.”
She had only left the house for a quick walk around the block, and she’d brought one credit card with her as an afterthought.
The walk had been to lift her spirits. When she returned from her long shift at the hospital to her empty and lonely apartment, she knew she needed to get outside for a minute.
She had read somewhere that exercise helped lift a person’s mood, so she decided to give it a try.
The stop at the grocery store really hadn’t been planned.
The call of bad food choices had pulled her through the doors.
“Okay, then.” The cashier rubbed their hands together and uncomfortably rocked back and forth on their heels. “I’m not sure how to help you then.”
“Forget it.” Brooke slid the credit card back into the pocket of her sweatpants and moved the items to the side of the machine. “I don’t need them anyways.” Then she walked away leaving the unpurchased items for the cashier to deal with.
It was for the best. She took it as the universe’s way of keeping her off carbs and stopping her from eating away her heart full of sorrows.
Though the whole situation completely mortified her.
Repressed memories from her childhood trekked up to the surface.
No matter how hard she tried to splat them away, they broke through her protective layer.
Her mom never had enough money to pay for her things at the store.
She wasted all her money on drugs and booze.
Often, they’d ring everything up only to discover they had maybe a fourth of what was needed to cover what was on the conveyer belt.
Then her mom would ask the cashier to remove items one at a time until the bill was low enough for her to pay for it.
It didn’t help that the cashier always eyed her dirty face and ratty clothes with pity, making her feel small and insignificant in the world.
Sometimes her mom would beg the random cashier or the person behind them in line to spot them the difference.
It worked sometimes. Other times, they left the store with only an item or two.
Then Brooke knew she wasn’t eating until she received the free school lunch the next day.
So, she promised herself, way back as a child, that someday she’d earn enough to never have to bear the shame again.
And there was no chance she’d ever do drugs or drink alcohol.
Living the nightmare of her childhood kept her far away from those things.
In this moment, Brooke reminded herself she wasn’t ten, and she wasn’t her mother.
It wasn’t her fault the grocery store stopped taking her type of credit card.
The grocery store stop had been a terrible idea, anyway.
Brooke wasn’t a person who ate bread or Oreos, nor was she a person who hissed at unsuspecting nice guys.
Usually, people thanked her for being kind and considerate.
Her patients and their parents loved her quiet and calm demeanor.
And she always received high reviews at the hospital where she worked.
But today, this evening, was out of character for her, she wished she could close her eyes and start over.
Only this morning her world had lit on fire and burned to the ground.
She woke up to a text from her boyfriend, Justin, dumping her.
He didn’t even think she was worthy of a phone call.
Apparently, Justin met the woman of his dreams, who, newsflash, wasn’t her.
He didn’t explain how they met either or the shady timeline.
Somehow, Brooke managed to pull herself together enough to get to work.
But work, well, it wasn’t too great either.
A pair of twins vomited all over her at the hospital when she was examining them.
She had to change into the extra set of clothes in her locker to rid herself of the vomit chunks.
Then she had an itch between her shoulder blades she couldn’t reach.
Back at home, her kitchen sink had a leak that made the most annoying dripping sound. And now, this.
Inside, she felt dead.
Empty.
Alone.
The glass electric doors swung open, blasting her with the frigid Chicago winter air.
She shivered and crossed her arms to try and warm herself as she passed through the doors.
The L train ran overhead. A gust of dingy air replaced the earlier aroma of bread.
Slowly, she made her way to the crosswalk and pounded the button with a closed fist. The dark sky matched the color of her heart.
She wondered if it would snow overnight, making the sidewalk a slushy mess on her way to work tomorrow.
Then she thought of Justin and how he wouldn’t spend the night alone. Her shoulders drooped.
“Hey, wait up,” the now-familiar voice from the grocery store called out.
Brooke peered over her shoulder as the man from earlier jogged out of the store and over to where she waited. He had a brown paper bag in each of his hands. It looked like he didn’t only have American Express. The crosswalk light flashed walk, but she remained glued in place.
She rubbed her arms with her hands. “Yeah? What’s up?” She sounded like a teenager.
He landed in front of her. “Here.” He held a bag out to her. The loaf of French bread stuck out of the top. “This is for you.”
Blankly, she stared down at the bag. Her jaw slackened a little. This guy bought her things. She hadn’t even been nice to him. Tears tickled the corners of her eyes. Kindness from strangers wasn’t something she experienced too often.
When she didn’t move or answer, he said again, “Here.” He shook the bag. “Take it.” Then he pressed it against her arms.
Brooke kept her arms folded. “Did you buy my bread and Oreos?” Her voice softened as their gaze caught. All that stared back at her was a sincere and earnest desire to help her.
“Yes, so please take it.”
Slowly, she uncrossed her arm and hooked her hand around the top handle. He let go.
“I can’t believe you bought me my things.
” She forced her gaze away from him and down to the bag in her hands.
“Why?” The worry lines on her forehead eased.
“I wasn’t very nice to you back there. I’m really sorry by the way.
I’m normally not ill-mannered.” She gnawed on her bottom lip, trying to find the words. “So, why would you buy food for me?”
“Because you said you were having a difficult day.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “And if you went into a store only to buy those two items, I figured you do need them, for whatever reason.”
Then she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. “Are you a murderer or something?” She cautiously brought the bag tight against her chest and cradled it between her arms. “Buy me bread to butter me up then I end up as a story on Dateline.”
He laughed. “No—geez. Do I give off that vibe?” He shuffled his feet then ran his free hand through his messy dark locks. “I hope I don’t look like a murderer. But I think you’ve managed to give me one more thing to be self-conscious about.”
She chuckled. “Sorry, I’m not used to men being nice to me for no reason.” A crooked smile cracked her lips. “Also, I just watched this documentary about Ted Bundy. He was attractive and used his charm to lure women. You seemed too good to be true buying my bread and Oreos.”
“Ha.” He shifted his own brown bag from one hand to the other. “Trust me, I’m not charming any women.”
“I don’t know.” She held up the bag. “This certainly could’ve worked on women who are into that type of thing.” A tiny smile attempted to make the ends of her lips curl.
“But not you.” His eyes crinkled around the edges while the streetlamp overhead made them shine brightly. “Right?”
“Correct.” She shook her head. “Not me.”
The crosswalk light came and went again. Another L train ran overhead making the street vibrate. Brooke pressed the crosswalk button again.