“Why are there so many choices?”
“Who cares? Just pick one so we can go.”
“I don’t want to get the wrong thing.”
“Jesus, girl, make up your mind already,” I grumbled in a hushed whisper. The last thing I
wanted was for someone to find me in this particular aisle. My only consolation was that it was
currently devoid of people.
She didn’t make a decision, choosing to torture me instead by reading every label. I shifted
uncomfortably, trying to decide if I should run or stay. I’d never been so uneasy in my life. Finally, I
picked up the largest box that said ‘extra absorbent’ on it and chucked it at her head.
“Ouch, what did you do that for?” she asked, rubbing her face.
“Take that one and let’s go, now!”
She picked it up and I grabbed her hand before she could do any more comparison shopping.
“Wait,” she said, stopping as we almost neared the end of the aisle.
I sighed. “What now?”
“We should buy some more stuff. I don’t want it to be too obvious.” She chewed on her lower
lip, and her hands trembled so much I thought she might drop the package.
She was embarrassed about this too. I nodded at her. “Yeah, you owe me some candy or
something after this shit.”
I went to grab a basket. By the time I returned, she was in the candy aisle, clutching the box
against her chest. I held out the basket for her. She carefully placed the item with the picture of pearls
on it inside as if she was handling a live grenade. Why did it have pearls on it? I didn’t want to know.
I flung bags of Laffy Taffy, gummy worms, Snickers and licorice rope, concealing it. She added a bag
of chocolate kisses, gingerly placing them on top of my pile like she was building a house of cards.
“This is why you went to the nurse, right?” I asked as we headed to the checkout.
“Yeah, I got my period.”
I pressed my hand against her mouth. “Jesus, girl, don’t say it out loud.”
She laughed against my palm, tickling me with her breath. I dropped my arm, surprised how soft
her lips felt. “Well, it’s what happened. The nurse gave me some stuff, but I need to buy more.”
“Why didn’t you tell your dad?”
“He would have freaked out.” Somehow, I couldn’t imagine Mr Cranston freaking out, but I also
doubted he would have helped her. He seemed content to ignore her existence.
“Cal, will you check us out?” she asked timidly, staring at the lines.
“You want me to buy this?” I asked as if it was an illegal item. I thought it might be in this case.
She smiled coyly. “Let’s do it together.” I shook my head in disbelief, even though she was
completely serious. “It’s just that it’s all boys cashiering or Mona Simms, and you know she’s super
nosy. I don’t want her to ask me questions.”
She was right. Mona Simms’ other part-time job was local gossip collector. Sylvie and her
father were curious inhabitants of our small town, which peaked Miss Simms’ insatiable prying. Hell,
when they’d first moved here, Miss Simms had made public pleas for any information about them,
reasoning that it was good for all of us to know who are neighbors were.
I scanned the checkout. Mike Turner was manning one and Stan Watkins the other. This was no
good. Mike’s parents played poker with mine. Stan Watkins was a senior at the high school, and the
last thing I wanted was to be a product of Prairie Marsh High’s rumor factory before I even got there.
Therefore, I had to settle for the lesser of three evils and go for the only viable choice…Mona Simms.
I threw our items on the conveyer belt, strategically hiding that blue and white box under a
mountain of sugary sweets. It was a dumb idea, because it only made it more obvious. Sylvie stood
close behind me, trying to be invisible as she always was. It was funny how she managed to do that
while wearing ill-fitting clothes and white powder, but she was typically successful.
I’d heard adults trying to rationalize her reasoning with false tones of concern. They’d assumed
she was on drugs or craving attention. I’d even heard some suggest her daddy knew her more
intimately than a father should. My mother and father always defended the Cranstons. A stern warning
from my parents carried enough weight so that the loud voices became hushed slithering murmurs, but
they were no less hurtful.
I knew better, though. Sylvie dressed oddly because she was trying to avoid people. It worked.
People talked about her, but not to her, and she preferred it that way. That was everyone but Mandy
and me. I knew we were Sylvie’s only friends, and for some reason, it made me feel special. I hadn’t
chosen her. She’d chosen me. We never talked in school, but I spent just about every day with her in
some capacity.
Miss Simms scanned our purchases and held a bag of licorice mid-air, pausing to stare at the
box of maxi pads. “Cal, why are you buying this?”
Shit. Most people used their personalities to attract friendship and acceptance, but Mona Simms
relied on gossip. She bartered it like currency, often using it to garner favor with the community. I
suddenly wished I’d picked another checkout line.
“I’m shopping for my mother,” I replied quickly.
Mona arched one of her drawn-on eyebrows at me. I noticed the mole on her right cheek moved
independently from the rest of her features. She smacked her lips together, which looked clownish
since her chosen lipstick shade of glittery orange drooped outside of her actual lips. “What about all
this candy? Surely your mother doesn’t have this much of a sweet tooth.”
“It’s for Mandy,” I stammered, wanting to shut her up quickly. I could have just said it was for
me, but I wasn’t thinking too clearly at that point.
“Does your momma know that you’re buying all this for your sister? Mandy’s already heavy for
her age. I don’t think it’s wise to encourage her with candy.”
What?
Was this woman calling my sister fat? I knew Mandy was a little plump, but hell, that
was baby fat. It was ironic as hell, since Mona Simms looked like a cow in woman’s clothing.
“Miss Simms, I’m in a hurry. My momma’s waiting for me.”
She laughed, looking down at the maxi pads. “Of course she is. You’re a good boy for doing this
for her, Cal. Not every boy would do this.”
No shit. To my relief, she finished scanning our items. Sylvie stuck a twenty in my hand, which I
held out to Miss Simms before she even gave us the total. “Now, it’s this girl who could use some
candy,” she remarked, gesturing toward Sylvie. I suddenly wished the store were more crowded, and
there were people behind us. I doubted Mona would stop this opinionated conversation, though, even
if it was to do her job. “We sell clothes here, dear. You should find something that actually fits you.
Doesn’t your father feed you?”
Sylvie didn’t respond, which wasn’t surprising. There were actually some people in our town
who swore she was mute.
“If money is a problem, I could talk to the pastor about getting you some church donations from
our clothing drive. You don’t have to be a member. We Christians want to help everyone.”
Oh, hell no.
“Is that where you get your clothes from?” I was surprised by how even my voice sounded,
especially since my fists were clenched so tight it actually hurt. Mona’s sugary smile shriveled into a
deep frown, causing the wrinkles in the corners of her eyes to intensify. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid
thing to say,” I added quickly. She nodded and opened her mouth to respond, but I cut her off. “You’re
the biggest woman in town. They’d have to sew all the donated clothes together to get an outfit to fit
you.”
Her face reddened as her jaw dropped so wide you could see the cavities in her teeth. I had
done the impossible. I had made Miss Mona Simms speechless. I snatched my change out of her hand
before she could say anything else. I grabbed the two plastic bags that held our purchases and gripped
Sylvie’s hand, pulling her away.
“Cal, why did you do that? You know she’s going to tell your mom,” Sylvie reprimanded when
we were outside. I placed the bags on the handlebars of my bike and walked it alongside her.
I shrugged nonchalantly. “Let her. She’s a bitch. She can’t talk that way about Mandy.” I stared at
Sylvie’s tiny frame and added, “Or you.”
She shook her head, but I caught the curl of her lips trying desperately not to smile.
“Thank you,” she replied simply. “I’m sorry about that.”
“You didn’t do anything, Sylvie.”
“I probably got you into trouble.”
I winked at her, bumping her shoulder with mine. “It was worth it.” She was worth it. “Can you
walk the rest of the way? I have to get to the game.”
“’Kay.” She went to take the purchases off the bike, but her hand trembled and she dropped one
of the bags. I reached for it, glad the maxi pad box didn’t fall out. She took two rapid breaths, which
signaled she was close to tears.
“Damn it, Sylvie, what the hell is wrong now?”
“Nothing.”
“Spit it out, girl. I ain’t got all day.”
She sighed. “It’s just that I wish I had someone to talk to about this. Stuff is happing to me and I
have so many questions.”
I held up my hands and backed away from her. “Do you think I have the answers?”
She choked out a laugh, crossing her arms tightly. “Hell, no. You know less than I do.”
“Thank God for that.”
Sylvie bit her lower lip, staring at her black Chuck Taylors. “I just wish there was someone,”
she said softly.
I had no idea what the hell she wanted to talk about and I really didn’t want to know, but I did
feel sorry for her. Sylvie’s mom was dead and her dad was more interested in Glenlivet’s company
than his own daughter’s. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so rushed to get to the game. “There is someone.
Come on.” I took the bags out of her hand and placed them back on the handlebars.
“Where are we going?”
“Where we should have gone in the first place.”
We both picked up the pace and headed home. My momma was peeling potatoes at the kitchen
table while Mandy sat on the floor playing with her dolls and their million tiny accessories. I threw
the plastic bags on the counter, glad to be rid of them. I would have made Sylvie carry them, but my
momma had taught me that a man should never let a lady carry something, especially when his arms
were empty.
“Sylvie, did you come to play with me?” Mandy asked, holding out a doll to her.
“Not today, princess,” I answered for her. My parents called Mandy ‘princess’ as a term of
endearment. I used it in a more sarcastic manner.
“Cal, I thought you were going to the game,” Momma said.
“Sylvie needs to talk to you.” I pulled out the empty chair at the table for her. It was another
mandatory gesture from Amelia Tanner’s ever-growing list of requirements for being a decent man.
“Sit,” I told her.
Sylvie looked around nervously. She came over to play with Mandy and my mom liked her, but
this wasn’t something she was comfortable with.
“Cal, that’s no way to talk to a lady,” Momma admonished, before turning to Sylvie. “What do
you need to talk to me about, sweetheart?” she asked, patting the chair.
“It’s private,” I replied. My mother arched her eyebrows at me. “Women problems,” I added.
She gave Sylvie a knowing smile like there was a secret I wasn’t in on, which was just fine with
me. “Watch your sister, Cal.” Shit. Now, I would never make it to the game.
“I want to stay. I’m a woman too, Momma. You said so,” Mandy chimed in.
“No, you’re not,” I replied, but she wasn’t paying attention. Her attention was diverted by the
bags on the counter. She was like a hound dog with that stuff. It was like she could smell it through the
wrapping.
“Candy? I want some,” she squealed, running toward the counter.
I slapped her hand away. “Not for you.”
Mandy started her half-whimper fake cry she always did when she didn’t get her way. “Momma,
Cal slapped me.”
“I did not!”
“He did and now my hand hurts awfully bad. I need candy to make it better.”
I laughed, my mother grimaced, but Sylvie actually looked like she felt sorry for Mandy.
“Can she have some, Mrs Tanner?”
My mom was thoughtful for a moment. “Two pieces, that’s all.”
“Thank you.” Sylvie walked over to the plastic bag and took out the bags we’d bought. I was
thankful she managed to keep the embarrassing item under wraps. She bent down so she was at eye
level with Mandy. “Which one do you want?”
I shifted, knowing that Mandy would take longer than a Sunday sermon to make a decision like
this. Sylvie was patient with her, though. Much more than I would have been. They sat there talking
about the pros and cons of each kind of candy like some people debated the instant replay rule in
baseball. I glanced over at my mom, hoping she would put an end to this stupidity and make Mandy
choose. She was too busy grinning at them, though.
“Which one is the best one for me?” Mandy asked.
“Your favorite one,” Sylvie said, brushing Mandy’s hair to the side.
Mandy looked down at her hands, shaking her head so her pigtails flew, smacking Sylvie in the