Ugly(62)

She huddles in the corner and brings her knees up to her chest. “Can I tell you something, Lily?” she asks me.

“You can tell me anything.” I sweep my hand across her forehead and notice how rapidly her temperature is rising.

“From the very first time I worked here, I thought just how beautiful you are. I think you have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.” She balances her chin on her knees and she smiles at me. “Sorry,” she adds.

“How old are you, Ocean?”

“I’ll be eighteen next year.” I smile at her and she returns me a weak smile. “You are really pretty though.”

“Thank you.” Poor child, she must be delirious if she thinks that.

Her phone vibrates in her hand and she looks down at it. “Mom’s here.” She stands on shaky legs and I notice now she’s shaking even more than before.

“Come on, Ocean. I’ll help you out.” I put my arm around her shoulder and help her out to the front of the store. Her mom’s waiting for us and comes directly to us when she sees us.

“Thank you so much,” she says as she wraps her arms around Ocean and takes over what I was doing.

“You’re welcome. Take care, Ocean. I’ll see you next week for your shift.”

“Thanks, Lily,” Ocean says over her shoulder to me.

I watch as Melanie takes Ocean and carefully, lovingly helps settle her into the car. She gets in the driver’s side and leaves. I go over to where Carl has been working the register, and he’s getting slammed with people. Today is one of the busiest days of the year and it’s all hands on deck, even the store manager, Chase, would need to come down if we weren’t coping. “Close off after you’ve served that gentleman.” I point to the last man, and Carl turns his light off.

I go to one of the few registers that has no one on, sign in, check the float and start working the register. We’re one person down since Ocean’s left and the wave of people is relentless.

The hours melt into each other, and before I realize it my stomach is protesting, needing food. I look up at the clock above the door and see I have half an hour before it’s my break time. I’ve been consistently looking around the floor and analyzing what’s needed. Although we’re extremely busy, it’s running smoothly.

“Oh my God!” I hear the distinct voice of my once best friend and look up to see her standing in my line.

I can feel my mouth fall open as I look at her in disbelief. I’ve not heard from Shayne in years, and she’s still as beautiful as she was the last time I saw her. “Shayne,” I say but it comes out like a high-pitched squeal. “You’re still beautiful,” I blurt.

“She certainly is,” says the older gentleman who I’m serving. He turns to her, and innocently winks.

“Thank you.” She grins toward him. “Look at you. I thought you’d be finished with your degree and working in some exclusive high school somewhere,” she says. I feel my face drop immediately, and I look down at the groceries I’m bagging. “You have finished, haven’t you?”

“Um,” I don’t say anything more because I’m coming to the end of the older gentleman’s items. “That’ll be sixty-seven dollars even, please.” The gentlemen pays, wishes both Shayne and me a happy Thanksgiving, and leaves. “How are you?” I say, changing direction of the conversation.

“Absolutely fantastic. Liam and I got married and we moved to the other side of town. His dad bought a tire store and offered Liam a job on the floor, and me one in the office. We couldn’t say no. It’s just too good an opportunity.”

I scan her few items and bag them. “I’m so happy for you,” I say with sincerity.

“Hey, what time do you get off? We can grab a bite to eat, what do you think?” she asks eagerly.

I look up to her eyes and it instantly transports me back to the carefree and happy days we shared. But I suddenly realize I have only enough money for the bus. Trent gives me the exact amount I need on a daily basis. And sometimes when he’s forgotten, I have to walk the twenty-five minutes either way. I’m completely embarrassed that I have to say ‘sorry but my husband doesn’t give me money for food’ so I give Shayne another excuse. “I really wish I could, but I forgot my purse at home and I only have enough money for the bus trip home. I’m sorry, maybe next time.” If there’s ever a next time, I’ll have to think of another excuse.

“I’m not going to let you forgetting your purse at home stop us from having lunch. My treat. I have so much to tell you, and I’m sure there’s so many fantastic things you’ve done, too. What time is your break?”