Chapter 25 Connor #2
Grinning toward the windshield, I tell him we’ll have to stop by Kohl’s and get him a coat so he’s not cold while we traipse around town. Dane not even having a change of clothes reminds me of how spontaneous this trip was, and how much he’s sacrificing for me.
“Shit,” I say. “Are you gonna be okay while we’re up here? Like, with your classes and practice and stuff? Where’s your car? Is it gonna get towed?”
“Don’t worry.” He pets my thigh in short, comforting strokes. “Coach always gives us the week off practice when the season ends, and I haven’t missed a day of class yet this semester. I won’t get docked for missing a few this week. And, uh, don’t worry about the car. The car is toast.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that it’s toast. It’s gone. Artie took it.”
“What?” I whip a glance at Dane to gauge how upset he is, but he traps his emotions behind a stoic expression. “I’m sorry. I—”
“Hey, it’s all good, puppy. It’s just a car. You’re more important.”
As sweet as that is, the Beemer wasn’t just a car. It was something he cherished, just like he cherished his waterlogged PC, the letters from that shoebox, and the bedroom that was the only place in his house where he felt safe.
“I’ll make sure you get anywhere you need to go,” I say. “I’ll drive you to class and to practice, and wherever else. And I’ll pick you up, too, so don’t worry about that.”
He chuckles and squeezes my thigh. “Thanks, Connie. I’ve always wanted a sexy chauffer.”
“I’m really happy you’re here, Dane.”
“Me too. But I gotta warn you, I’ve never gone grocery shopping before.”
“Wait, really?” Now I’m grinning through sheer shock. But maybe it’s not so shocking, considering his family is anything but a typical one. Artie isn’t the sort of dad to pile his kids into a van for a family trip to the supermarket. “So, I’m about to pop your grocery store cherry.”
“Ha! I’ve been inside a grocery store. For, like, a Red Bull or gum, but I’ve never really shopped before, like with a list and a cart and shit.”
“Oh my God, Dane.” Excitement makes me sit up a little straighter and drive a little faster. “This is gonna be so much fun.”
“Fuckin’ dork,” he laughs, jumping his hand from my thigh to my head and rustling up my freshly styled hair.
Right through the sliding doors of Albertsons, Dane looks anxious.
Can’t blame him. Grocery shopping can be very stressful for a newbie.
An overabundance of sensory stimulants mixed with the pressure of a task list and the strategy required to optimize efficiency can be incredibly overwhelming.
I credit Mom for always taking me with her on grocery runs growing up that all of this is second nature.
I snag a cart from the parking lot on our way inside. Step one: complete. Off to a great start.
“Alright, here’s the game plan.” I link arms with Dane so the flow of people can’t pull him away from me. It’s easy to get lost in a place like this. Best to stay close. “We go for the canned foods first, boxed second, produce third, frozen fourth, and dairy last.”
“Canned, boxed, pro—” Dane mumbles to himself. “How do we know if the food on the list in canned or boxed or whatever?”
“That’s something you’ll pick up on the more you shop.”
Dane grimaces, casting a long look at our surroundings. “I’m just gonna follow you.”
I put Dane in charge of Mom’s list, and he checks the items off with a pen from my glove box as we weave through the aisles collecting cans of sauce and soup, jars of jams and condiments, and boxes of pasta and rice sides.
The cart is half-filled when we get to the produce department, possibly the most daunting department of all.
Not only do we have to identify the right products, but there’re measurements and math involved, then struggling with the produce baggies is always a mini nightmare.
Add onto all of that the constant barrage of strangers who can’t wait their fucking turn at the Honeycrisp apple bin. Now I’m getting stressed!
“Connie!” Dane’s voice shouts over the heads of the hoard. “This one look good?” He heaves up a head of lettuce, and I send a thumbs up.
As soon as I have several nice-looking apples into a produce bag, Dane hops up to our cart and plops his lettuce inside. “What’s next?” he asks, like he’s really getting the hang of this.
I check the list sitting in the front basket of our cart. “Four ears of corn. Think you can find it?”
“Sure, but how big should they be? Like, are we wanting Dane-sized corn or Connor-sized corn?” His wiggling eyebrows and goofy, beautiful smile make my eyes roll. “I’ll just use my best judgement.”
Dane’s best judgement is leaving a lot to chance, but it’s just corn, so I tell him I believe in him.
“Connor?” A familiar voice pulls my attention in the opposite direction. When I realize why the voice is so familiar, my face drops.
A slightly higher-pitched version of Thalia’s voice streams from the mouth of a woman who looks like a mash-up of Thalia and Dane while being significantly shorter than both.
“Connor, I thought that was you.” Lori snakes between people and carts to reach me. She’s in a River Cats hoodie and boots, gray-brown curls cascading around her shoulders.
There aren’t enough moments to even glance at Dane between my shock and Lori’s thin arms coming out to give me the same gentle hug she would always greet me with.
“It’s so good to see you.” She pulls away to give me a once over like it’s been years and not months since we’ve seen each other. “I figured you’d come up for Thanksgiving, but it’s a little early for that. Is everything alright? Your parents are well?”
“Um, uh, y—yeah.” I shake my head to dislodge my nerves, but they cling to my throat like mites, chewing at my words and making them come out meek. “Eh—everything’s fine. Um, just got homesick is all. Taking some personal time.”
“Did Thalia come with you? She didn’t call—”
“No. Just, uh—I mean, Thalia and I broke up.”
“What? She didn’t tell me.”
“Yeah, so I just, uh…really wanted to see my folks.”
“I’m sorry.” The genuine sympathy in Lori’s brown eyes renders me even more unwell, not only because I don’t deserve it for what I did to her daughter, but also because of how unfair it is that she’s apologizing to me when she ought to be apologizing to her son.
“I’ll have to call her when I get home. I had no idea. ”
If Lori makes that call, she’ll find out a lot of things about me I’d rather she not know, but that’s the least of my worries right now.
“Lori!” Martin Lassiter, Thalia’s stepdad, waves Lori over from the drive aisle, hollering that he’ll meet her at the checkout line.
“I better get going,” Lori gives my arm a pat and asks me to give Mom and Dad her best. All I can do is nod like a fucking doorknob.
Lori leaves, and I swivel the other way just in time to see Dane’s back as he rushes through the crowd.
“Babe!” I chase after him, winding through people and product displays, and clipping my hip on a pyramid of Pepsi twelve-packs until I catch him at a dead end behind the discounted bread rack.
Seeing him cower in the corner, I feel Dane’s pain like it’s vibrating in my soul, and I can’t help but think this too is all my fault.
I begged him to bring me to Sacramento. I goaded him into doing the shopping with me.
I didn’t fucking think, like always. Sac is a big city, but it operates like a small town in a lot of ways.
It’s not surprising to run into someone I know, but it’s really goddamn unfortunate that the person I ran into had to be Dane’s mom.
“Hey.” I touch his back, and that’s all he needs to turn around and sling his arms around me like I’m something that can protect him from all the terrible things in the world. As he moans in agony against my shoulder, I really, really wish that were true.