CHAPTER SIXTEEN
As we walk into the supermarket, I hold Shiloh’s hand tightly. I feel more in control, more myself. I can continue tonight. For now, though, I want to spend some quality time with my daughter.
Shiloh looks around the shop curiously, no doubt sizing up what she can ask me to buy for her. I get a cart and tell her to walk beside me.
We start in the meat section, where I carefully check the prices of the various cuts and start packing certain packages into the cart. Shiloh swings back and forth near me.
“Shiloh,” I say quietly. “I thought you were going to practice.”
“I haven’t had a chance,” she says, not quite as quietly.
“Hush. Now, how are you supposed to get done in the next three days if you’re not practicing? I’m only giving you three more days. Not a day more.”
“I know, Mommy,” she says, swallowing hard.
“Are you scared?” I ask.
“It’s just… no one else seems to do this kind of thing ” she says.
“Have you talked to other people about it?” I ask, giving her a reproachful look.
“No, of course not. You said not to. But some kids have their au pairs for years, not just a couple of months.”
“I know what’s best for you,” I say quietly as I push the cart. My voice is barely above a whisper. “And if I set you a task, you are to complete it. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Mommy,” she says, though I can see her eyes shining as though she wants to cry.
Weakness. In its purest form. I may have to ponder her punishment because I don’t know if she’s strong enough to do what is required. Yet, maybe she will surprise me.
We go over to the frozen section, and I rifle through the various packs. I take out vegetables we can eat, some frozen quick and easy meals like fish fingers that Shiloh loves, and I pass it to her to pack in the cart. She packs it neatly, much like I would, and I only have to straighten it a little.
Next, we’ll need to restock on cleaning supplies. As we pass the toy aisle, Shiloh glances down it wistfully.
“Go pick something,” I say. “No more than twenty dollars.”
Shiloh smiles and runs down the aisle while I wait for her. I watch her choose carefully. She is concentrating so hard. How can she not apply the same concentration to the task I’ve set for her? She needs to dice up an au pair. It’s not rocket science.
She picks a set of barbies and comes running back. “Nineteen-ninety-nine,” she says breathlessly.
“Good girl,” I say with a smile. “Do you want to have a look at the knives while we’re here?”
She shakes her head and I’m disappointed. I know she can tell, because she instantly tries to perk up. “But we can. I just think we have enough blades at home.”
“Oh, Shiloh, you can never have enough blades. Let’s go take a look.”
I lead her to where the guns and knives are kept, and I take her over to a display case. “You want something with a bit of weight, but not too heavy,” I explain.
Shiloh nods. I’ve told her this before. But I need her to remember this lesson. Picking the correct blade is important. Picking the correct tool is always pertinent to a successful contract.
“See anything you like?” I ask quietly.
Shiloh shakes her head. “Nothing that speaks to me, Mommy.”
I know it’s a copout, but I leave it at that. “Machete, it is then,” I say sternly. “I expect you to practice while Kerri is cooking dinner.”
“What do I tell her when she asks me what I’m doing down in the basement?”
“Chores for Mommy,” I say. “Don’t elaborate on that.”
Shiloh nods and looks at her Barbies longingly. No doubt she wanted to play with them as soon as she got home. Though there are more critical things to do.
“We need fresh bread and milk, and some coffee for the coffee machine, and thenI think we’re done. Can you go get me a box of milk?”
She nods and runs off as I call out to her, “I’ll be by the bread.”
I go there and choose the bread I want, and put it in the front of the cart where it won’t get squashed. I look around as I wait for Shiloh. People just pass me by, their masks and guards up. Happy housewives, grumpy husbands, and overexcited children. Everyone is pretending that life is okay and everything is going to be alright.
It’s sickening. I never want Shiloh to believe that kind of bullshit. Life is alright if you make it so. Don’t leave anything to chance. Don’t pretend to be what you’re not. I hear Shiloh huffing and puffing as she walks back to me with a box of long-life milk. She puts it on the bottom of the cart and smiles at me. I return the smile and lean down and kiss her forehead.
“Coffee and we can go home,” I say. “Mommy has somewhere to be tonight, so I’m going to eat dinner and let Kerri put you to bed.”
We get the coffee and check out. Shiloh helps me load the trunk with the groceries and we go straight home where Kerri is almost done with dinner. I send Shiloh to the basement to do her chores while I pack the groceries away. Tonight, the boy is going through his final night of light torture before I get into the real nitty gritty of what I have planned tomorrow night.