Wishing for Someday Soon (3 page)

I was pleased to find the grocery store clean and well lit inside. It was a little smaller than I expected, but seemed to be fully stocked. Grabbing a buggy from the front of the store, I slowly made my way up and down the aisles, grabbing the ingredients for lunches and dinners that were cheap enough to keep Lucinda pacified.

I made sure to scoop up a dozen packages of Top O’ Ramen soup for Kevin and me. At twenty cents a package, it was a cheap staple item for us. We didn't always have a means to cook them, so we would crunch the package up, pour the seasoning mix into the bag of broken pieces and shake it up. That was Kevin's favorite part. We would munch on it with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and it would fill our bellies for hours afterwards.

As I pushed the cart down the cereal aisle, I passed all the name brands that Kevin and I preferred, choosing the generic economy-sized bags instead. Some of them didn’t hold a candle to the name brands, but we had learned through trial and error that the generic chocolate puffs were the closest in taste to Cocoa Puffs. I grabbed one of the bags from the back knowing they usually moved the older stock to the front. We could tolerate the generic brand, but once it went stale, it really sucked.

Milk and orange juice were the next items to make it into my cart. I dreaded the weight they would add to the bags on the walk home, but knew both were necessities to Kevin’s diet. Once I had all my items, I pulled my buggy off to the side to total up my cart and cringed at the amount. I surveyed the cart critically, trying to decide what I could put back to shave seven dollars off my total. I remember Rosa telling Lucinda there was three hundred-seventy-five dollars on the card, but I also knew from past experience that overspending would not go over well. I put back Kevin’s Cosmic Brownies along with the grapes and bananas I was hoping to sneak into his lunch. Kevin and I weren’t huge fans of fruit since we really didn’t have much opportunity to add them to our diet, but I had wanted to start encouraging him to eat healthier. I noticed most of the produce was unusually costly here, but figured it must be off-season or something.

By the time I made my way to the front of the store, the sun was starting to set outside, so I quickly unpacked my goods onto the conveyor belt. I was so intent on my task that I was startled when I realized the bag boy was talking to me.

“Huh?” I asked looking up. My face filled with color as I took in his boyishly handsome face. He had thick brown hair that threatened to fall in his eyes if not for the hand he used to push it back off his forehead. His eyes were the typical brown you would expect, but seemed to sparkle as he smiled at me. Within our endless travels over the years, I had run across my share of cute boys, and even went out with a few, but it was the dimples that sat in both corners of his mouth that instantly captivated me and set him apart from any other boy I had ever met. He was more than boyishly cute, the word
steamy
jumped to mind. I knew without a shadow of doubt he was trouble.

“I said you must be new,” he said, smiling broadly at me.

“Yeah, we just moved in across the way,” I said, indicating the trailer park across the street.

“That’s great. We never get new people around here. The last people to move here was Shirley Mc…”

“Jones,” I finished for him.

“Exactly. How did you know that?”

“I met some girl earlier and she filled me in.”

“Brown hair, crazy tall, has a brother?” he asked.

“Yep, that would be her, except I didn’t meet the brother.”

“That would be Bethany and her brother Matt,” he said in a tone that was hard to place.

I looked at him wondering what the issue was, instantly suspecting it had something to do with her attire.

I turned my attention back to the less-than-friendly cashier as she scanned my items, deciding right then and there he was way out of my league.

“We’re all in the same class,” he continued. “Though they don’t like the rest of us all that much,” he added.

“Why not?” I asked, trying to sound disinterested.

“Not sure,” he replied, shrugging slightly. “Are you a junior or a senior?” He asked, changing the subject.

“Senior, and I have to admit, it’s wigging me out a little that we will be in the same school with a bunch of munchkins,” I said, grimacing.

He threw back his head and laughed.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, they keep us pretty separated.”

“So, is this the only job around here?” I asked, hoping for the opportunity to finally get a job.

“Pretty much. My dad owns the store, so I was a shoo-in,” he said, looking slightly embarrassed. “I could put a word in for you if you would like?” he said, shooting me one of his knee-melting-palm-sweating-dimpled smiles.

“Um, that’s okay.” I replied, not entirely crazy about being indebted to him.

“You sure? It’s no prob, my dad’s a fair boss and such.”

“That’s okay, but it’s cool you have a built-in job.”

“Yeah, well, he kind of owns a bunch of stores, but we live close to this one so I’m pretty much slave labor since he’s actually just grooming me for the fu-”

“How did you want to pay?” An impatient voice asked, interrupting him.

“Oops, sorry,” I said, turning back to the slightly aggravated sales clerk. “Um, with this,” I said, trying not to let it show that I was bothered about paying with my mom’s food stamp card. I shifted my body to the side so I wasn’t facing the cute bag boy that was making my pulse act erratically.

“Are you Lucinda Richards?” she asked, reading my mom’s name off the card.

“No, that’s my mom,” I said, wishing that the floor would open up and swallow me whole so I could escape. Even a meteor crashing through the roof would have been preferred.

“Then your mom will have to come in and sign for it,” she said almost gleefully, enjoying the fact that she was putting me on the spot.

“I never had a problem before,” I said coolly in an effort to cover my embarrassment. Being poor was definitely not fun at times.

“Marge, I’m sure it’s okay,” the bag boy said, coming to my rescue.

“Maybe I should call the manager to check,” she said in a defiant voice.

“Marge, my dad owns the store and I said it's okay,” he said in a voice that left no argument.

“Fine, but if I get in any trouble, I’m telling your father you approved it,” she said, clearly aggravated at being trumped by a seventeen-year-old.

I kept my head held high, trying to act like the entire confrontation hadn’t mortified me. Paying with the food stamp card was always embarrassing, but the majority of the time the stores were so busy no one paid much attention to you.

I met my rescuer’s eyes dead-on, feeling completely vulnerable as he seemed to peer through my defenses.

“These bags seem pretty heavy. Do you want me to carry them for you?” he asked, not quite releasing them completely to me as our hands touched.

“No, I got 'em,” I said. “I’m tougher than I look,” I added, making it clear I didn’t need his help. I pulled on the handles until he reluctantly released them.

“Are you sure?” he asked one last time.

I nodded. “I’m used to it,” I said, feeling the mask that was hiding my embarrassment begin to slip as he studied me intently.

“Okay,” he surrendered, sounding a little disappointed.

I gripped the handles tightly making my knuckles turn white. His now sympathetic gaze was enough to wither the tough-girl front I was trying to portray, so I turned quickly, fleeing from the store before I completely crumbled.

I didn’t slow my pace as I continued to berate myself all the way back to the entrance of the trailer park. Some master of illusion I was. We're not even here one day and in one fell swoop I’d allowed a swoon-worthy hunk a glimpse into my reality. The thought of facing him again the next day made my stomach flip. For a moment I wanted to be selfish as I contemplated using Lucinda’s spontaneity in my favor by harping on the smallness of the town. I knew if I worded it right I could convince her we should move on and leave the small town behind. Kevin’s face floated through my head and I imagined his disappointment if we packed it in and hit the road again. I had promised him I would try to keep us in this place as long as I could. Could I betray him by breaking my promise just because I was afraid that some cute guy had caught a small glimpse of the real me?

I knew I couldn’t do that to him. After our last bout of homelessness, Kevin needed some semblance of stability, for as long as it would last anyway.

By tomorrow I would have my mask firmly back in place. Avoiding grocery boy would be tough in a small school, but hopefully he would turn out to be a halfway decent guy and not make me the front page news. Satisfied with my plan of action, I tried to make my mind forget about him and not think about his yummy eyes or dimples that made my palms sweat. In a different life I could see myself with someone like him, but here and now, we're just from different worlds and had no place together. It was for the best anyway. I had no desire to start up a relationship with some guy when my days here were numbered. I just wanted to make a few friends and enjoy our temporary home while it lasted. Making friends was never hard for me even though I was always shy initially. Lucinda, during one of her kinder moments, had once told me that I had the gift for putting people at ease and that they automatically gravitated to me because of it.

Tomorrow we would see if she was right.

***

Kevin was waiting for me on the top step when I finally staggered to the trailer.

“What are you doing out here?” I asked.

“They’re fighting,” he said, not needing to elaborate.

“Ugh, are you sure?” I asked, seeing our chance of a decent dinner slowly slipping away.

“Yeah, they were quiet at first, but they’ve gotten louder.”

“Well, crap,” I muttered, trying to come up with a game plan. “Why don’t you go sit in the car since it’s chilly out here? I’ll go see how bad it is.”

He nodded, heading to the car. We both hated when Lucinda fought with whomever she was hooked up with because the fights always seemed to turn volatile. Kevin hated the fights because the yelling hurt his ears. I hated them because most times they turned physical, and I hated having to step in. Getting hit was not my idea of a fun time, but more often than not I always got caught in the crossfire. It was one thing to suffer Lucinda’s wrath if I pissed her off, but it really sucked to get caught in a fight that had nothing to do with me.

I could hear the yelling before I even opened the door. They were still in their room which was a good sign for me. Rushing to the kitchen, I threw the groceries in the cupboards and fridge as the yelling escalated. I hastily pulled out the peanut butter and jelly and hurriedly assembled a couple sandwiches each for Kevin and me. Once they were made, I snatched up sandwich bags and two of the packages of Top Ramen soup. Stowing it all in one of the now-empty grocery bags, I linked my wrist through the handle of the bag leaving my hands free to pour a tall glass of milk for us to share. With dinner in hand, I quietly made my way to my room to grab the blanket off my bed and the book I had laid out earlier. My plans for lying in my own bed reading would have to wait.

I scurried back down the hall with my arms full, almost home free when their fight spilled out of their room. Jim knocked into me as he rushed toward the front door, making me spill milk everywhere. “Your mother's a fuck'n psycho,” he yelled on his way out the door. I groaned silently. He would pay for that comment.

Sure enough, not a moment after he slammed the door, Lucinda flew out of her room like a bat out of hell. “PSYCHO?” she screamed at the closed door as she rushed to get by me. I knew I was in for it the moment she saw the spilt milk on the floor. “And what the hell are you doing?” She screeched, swinging out at me. The blow landed before I could think of something that would pacify her. My head jerked back from the impact across my left cheek.

“It was an accident,” I said, keeping my voice even as I cupped my stinging cheek with my now free hand.

“Well, clean it up and stop standing there like a moron!” she screamed, turning her rage toward me.

“Okay, Lucin…uh, Mom,” I said correcting myself, hoping she wouldn’t notice my slip.

I mopped up the milk with toilet paper I had grabbed from the bathroom since we didn’t have any paper towels. In my haste to clean up the mess quickly, the toilet paper became a soggy mess. I knew logically I should have grabbed an empty grocery bag, but my head was still fuzzy from the hit. I didn’t realize my mistake until I was carrying the soggy toilet paper to the kitchen trash, leaving little droplets of milk that slipped between my cupped hands splattering onto the linoleum floor.