Ugly(29)

BANG.

I jump out of bed, quickly checking the room I’m sleeping in, but nothing seems out of place. My heart’s racing in my chest and my breathing is rapid and short. I stay still, listening for the noise that woke me. But I hear nothing.

Letting out a huge gust of air, I get back in bed. The clock beside me is relentless, the time continuing to flash. It’s only been an hour since I fell asleep.

Lying in bed, I let the native sounds carry me forward again to sleep. I don’t let the bang worry me, because Mr. Hackly or Trent would have come to check it out if it was something serious.

It was probably a bat flying into the side of the house. It can’t be anything else. Right. Right?





Sunday morning was incredibly strange in the Hackly home. I didn’t see Mrs. Hackly at all before I left for work, and Mr. Hackly and Trent were cold toward me.

“You ready?” Trent asked, as he grabbed the keys from the hallway table and stood at the door. It was my cue to hurry up. Mr. Hackly didn’t even look at up at me from his tablet as he read the news.

The ride to work was just as icy as the Hackly home. Trent tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel to a song that wasn’t even playing.

I didn’t bother asking him if he was okay, because I already knew the answer. A lifetime with an alcoholic parent had taught me to never ask a question I already knew the answer to. As a matter of self-preservation, I shouldn’t say much anyway.

Trent dropped me off at the grocery store, and told me in a no-nonsense way, “You’re going to give me sex tonight, and I’m taking you to the doctor after work to make sure you don’t become pregnant.” It wasn’t really a question; he wasn’t asking. He was telling.

Shayne’s been teaching me what I need to do at work, and now it’s just before my break. Stacey put me on a register on my own, with Shayne on the one behind me so I can ask her questions if I need help. As the customers come through with their full shopping carts, I mindlessly scan each item. But all I can think about is tonight. It’s inevitable I’ll give him sex, I know that. But I was hoping it would happen when I was more ready.

I hear someone ask me a question, and it brings me back to the present, and not what’s going to happen tonight. “Sorry?” I say to the old lady who’s standing in front of me with her few groceries.

“I said you’re a very pretty girl,” she says, and smiles warmly at me.

“Thank you,” I respond with a wan smile. Though deep down inside, I know she must be talking about Shayne. Shayne is beautiful. And so bubbly and outgoing. How can anyone not say she’s pretty?

The old lady looks at my badge and squints to read it. “Oh, you’re training are you?” she asks as she adjusts the glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.

“Yes, ma’am I am. This is my first day.” I scan one of the last products on the conveyor belt.

“Your first day?” She shrills, then adds, “My goodness, you’ll be running this place before you know it.” She smiles again to me.

For the first time in a long time, I feel something other than judgement. A complete stranger, a random elderly lady, isn’t looking at me like I’m trash. Her words are meant to give me strength and confidence, and I know these words, although they would be inconsequential to many, will live with me a lifetime.

“Thank you,” I say, feeling my face brighten and my lips turn up in a genuine smile. I scan her last items, she pays for them and I wish her a fantastic day. She’ll never know the impact of the kindness she’s shown me, with just that one simple sentence.

I begin to scan the next customer’s items and Luke, the manager of the cashiers, comes over and tells me to turn my light off. Shayne and I finish at the same time and I step away from the register, about to go to the staff room.

“Hey, come out and grab some lunch with me,” she says happily.

Damn, I didn’t bring anything with me, and I don’t have any money. “I’m not very hungry,” I respond, though truthfully my stomach is growling, though thankfully, not loud enough for her to hear. But it’s enough to remind me I want food.

“My shout, come on, let’s go. We only have half an hour.” Shayne links our arms together and starts to lead the way outside. Next to the grocery store is a deli and we walk in there. “They make the best pastrami on rye. You like pastrami, right?”

I can confidently say yes, because Mrs. Hackly has made it for me. “I do, especially with mustard.”

“Two pastrami’s on rye, both with mustard. I’ll have a bottle of water and…” Shayne turns to me and motions just with her eyes what beverage I’d like.