12. Coraline
12
Coraline
Present Day
I've searched high and low for the kiddie grocery cart with the car on the front of it, for at least ten minutes now. “I’m sorry bub, I don’t see it anywhere and we’ve really got to get started.”
“But mommy…” Michael's lower lip starts to tremble. I take his hand in mine, but before I can say a word, he starts to cry. “You promised me that I would get to drive the car inside of the grocery store today.”
It’s seven p.m. and we've had a very long day. Michael isn’t used to being out all day and is exhausted. When he’s this worn out and things don’t go his way, it’s tough for him to manage his big feelings.
“I know baby,” I say as I bend down and wrap him in a hug. “We have looked everywhere, but it’s just not here today.”
That only makes him cry harder. I’m so overstimulated and overwhelmed, I seriously consider just calling it quits and heading home empty-handed. But if I don’t push through, it won’t get done—and there’s barely anything in the kitchen as it is.
“What if I let you get a new toy? Would that make it better?” I offer, in hopes of calming him down.
“No!” Michael crosses his arms over his chest.
An older woman passes by with her cart and chuckles, “I remember those days.” She walks off, still laughing to herself.
After another five minutes of negotiating, I finally convince Michael to ride in the normal grocery cart. His only condition is that he gets to play on my phone while we shop.
I didn't really think that through well enough because my grocery list is on my phone. I won’t be able to check it while he’s on it. But at this point, I can’t afford to pick and choose my battles. I guess i'll just wing it.
After going down almost every aisle and allowing Harrison to throw whatever he wanted to get into the cart, I’ve discovered that I really strayed way from my grocery list. We got way too much stuff.
Of course, with my luck, every person in the entire grocery store goes to check out at the same time I do. Every register has three or four people, all with full grocery carts.
We’re going to be here awhile.
The line finally starts moving, but the kids are so restless at this point that I’m not sure I can handle it much longer. Being a single parent is incredibly overwhelming, and on days like this, it feels like I’m drowning in responsibility—like I’m just not good enough.
It’s finally our turn to unload our grocery cart and check out when the boys start to fight.
“Boys!” I whisper urgently. “You guys have got to stop it. We're almost done and then we'll be home before you know it.”
That lasted all of thirty seconds. I’m completely drained, both physically and emotionally, and I can’t even deal with how ridiculous the situation has become. I just give the cashier an apologetic look and mumble an apology.
After the groceries are all bagged, I reach into my purse to get out my wallet.
The cashier tells me my total, and I reach for my debit card—only to realize it’s not in my wallet. My stomach sinks. Can this day possibly get any worse?
“I think I left my card in the car. I grabbed fast food earlier and sometimes I get in a hurry and forget to put it back inside of my wallet. I’ll be right back!”I explain to the cashier.
I grab both kids and we do the quick, awkward walk of shame to the car, all while praying my debit card is somehow there. We search every inch—underneath the seats, in every compartment—and still, no card.
I take a step back, take a deep breath, and run my hands down my face. I've accepted my fate.
“I think I found it!” Harrison exclaims while holding up my golden debit card.
“Praise the Lord!” I exclaim. I grab both of their hands and we start the trek back into the grocery store.
My heart drops again when I get back to our register. Jesse Cooper is chatting with our cashier and holding a receipt. When he sees me, he gives me a playful grin.
“Excuse me Jesse,” I say as I push past him to get to the cashier. “I found my card!”
“He's already paid for it. No worries," the cashier replies.
“He did what?” My blood immediately starts to boil. First the food dump and now this?
“It’s really no trouble at all," he says as he crosses his arms and smiles again.
“Can I talk to you in private?”
“I suppose so,” he says, following me and the kids back outside and to my car.
I buckle both of the kids inside of the car and turn on some music for them to listen to. My kids and the rest of the grocery store are out of earshot now.
Jesse is making himself right at home and is leaning against my car like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“How dare you?” I sneer.
“How dare I?” he shoots back. “I was just being a friendly neighbor to the new family in town. It really was no trouble. It looked like you had your hands full today and I wanted to help out.”
“I am not a charity case Jesse. I have a full time job and I have money. I do not need your help.” I cannot believe the nerve of this guy. He wanted nothing to do with his own son for years and now, out of the blue, he wants to be a knight in shining armour. It’s too late now. I am not falling for anyone's tricks ever again.
“I don't think you’re a charity case Cora.”
“Oh really? You go years without contacting us and then one day you show up and buy us food from every place in town and now you’re buying us our groceries.”
His eyebrows furrow, a mix of anger and confusion crossing his face. “How did you know about the food? It was supposed to be anonymous.”
“Your name was printed out on every single bag,” I deadpan.
“Look, you weren’t supposed to know about the food. I was just trying to cheer you all up. I could tell you all are going through something and I–”
“Well you can stop.” I cross my arms. “I don’t want you anywhere near me or my kids. You had your opportunity. Now leave us alone.”
I turn around and practically jump inside of the car. I have both hands on the steering wheel and I take a few deep breaths to try to calm down.
I go to put the car in reverse so we can finally go back home and I realize that I forgot to unload the groceries and they're still sitting behind the trunk in the cart. Jesse stands there and just stares at me with a blank expression on his face. Why me God?