He almost smiled, and I almost lost it. I didn’t know he knew how to almost do that. Maybe it was just a twitch in his lips, but when they slightly curved, he looked so handsome. I could tell he didn’t partake in the act of smiling very often.
As he stepped to the side and dialed his mom’s number, I tried my best not to eavesdrop on his call. I took the next customers’ orders, but still, my nosy ears and eyes kept finding their way back to him.
“Ma, I’m just saying, I feel like a fucking idiot. I swiped the card and it keeps getting declined.”
“I know the pin number. I entered the pin number.”
“Did you use the card yesterday?” he asked. “For what? What did you get?”
He moved the phone from his face as his mom spoke to him and rolled his eyes before putting the receiver back to his ear.
“What do you mean, you bought thirty-two cases of Coca-Cola?!” he shouted. “What the hell are we going to do with thirty-two cases of Coca-Cola?” Everyone in the grocery store turned toward him. His gaze met mine, and the embarrassment returned to him. I smiled. He frowned. Heartbreakingly handsome. Slowly he turned his back to me and returned to his call. “How are we supposed to eat for the next month?”
“Yeah, I get paid tomorrow, but that’s not gonna be enough to—no. I don’t want to ask Kellan for money again—Ma, don’t cut me off. Listen. I have to pay rent. There’s no way I’ll be able to—” Pause. “Ma, shut the hell up, okay?! You spent our food money on Coca-Cola!”
Short pause. Crazy arm movements of anger.
“No! No, I don’t care if it was Diet Coke or Coke Zero!” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. He sat the phone down on the ground for a few moments, shut his eyes, and took a few deep breaths. He picked it back up. “It’s fine. I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about it, all right? I’ll figure it out. I’m hanging up. No, I’m not mad, Ma. Yeah, I’m sure. I’m just hanging up. Yeah, I know. It’s okay. I’m not mad, okay? I’m sorry I yelled. I’m sorry. I’m not mad.” His voice became as low as it could, but I couldn’t stop listening. “I’m sorry.”
When he turned back to me, I’d finished helping the last customer in my line. He shrugged his left shoulder and stepped closer, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to get those things today. Sorry. I can put the stuff back on the shelves. Sorry. Sorry.” He kept apologizing.
My gut tightened. “It’s okay. Really. I’ll handle it. I’m getting off work now anyway. I’ll put it all back.”
He frowned again. I wished he would stop doing that. “Okay. Sorry.” I wished he’d stop apologizing, too.
When he left, I glanced inside his grocery bags. Studying the items in the bags was heartbreaking. The stuff added up to a total of eleven dollars, and he couldn’t even afford that. Ramen noodles, cereal, milk, peanut butter, and a loaf of bread—items I’d never had to think twice about buying.
You never knew how good you had it until you saw how bad someone else did.
“Hey!” I shouted, chasing after him in the parking lot. “Hey! You forgot these!”
He turned around slowly and narrowed his eyes in confusion.
“Your bags,” I explained, handing them to him. “You forgot your bags.”
“You could get fired.”
“What?”
“For stealing groceries,” he said.
I hesitated for a moment, a bit confused as to why his first thought would be that I stole the food. “I didn’t steal them. I paid for them.”
Bewilderment filled his stare. “Why would you do that? You don’t even know me.”
“I know you’re trying to take care of your mom.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head back and forth. “I’ll pay you back.”
“No, don’t worry about it.” I shook my head. “It’s no big deal.”
He bit his bottom lip, and brushed his hand over his eyes. “I’ll pay you back. But…thank you. Thank you…uh…” His eyes fell to my chest, and for a second I felt a level of discomfort, until I realized he was retrieving my name from my nametag. “Thank you, Alyssa.”
“You’re welcome.” He turned and went on his way again. “What about you?!” I shouted his way, hiccupping once or twice—or maybe fifty times.
“What about me?” he asked, not turning to face me, still walking.
“What’s your name?”
Hunter?
Gus?
Travis?
Mikey?!
He could’ve definitely been a Mikey.
“Logan,” he said. He kept walking, not looking back once. I placed my shirt collar in my mouth and chewed on it; it was a bad habit my mom always yelled at me about, but my mom wasn’t there, and small tiny butterflies were taking over my stomach.
Logan.
He looked like a Logan, now that I thought about it.
***