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“Can I buy this? Or are you going to continue staring into space?”
I force a smile and take the bag. “Sorry about that,” I say brightly. “Yeah, I can ring you up.”
I thought coming to work on a Saturday would help take my mind off things, yet it’s only made me think of Seth and Rachel at work. This isn’t the first rude comment of the day. The abuse really isn’t helping either. I’m just glad the boss is in the office going over the accounts rather than seeing me make a fool of myself.
“Alright,” I say after scanning her bag, “the total comes to $308.70.”
The girl rolls her eyes. “Isn’t there a 20% discount?”
I look at the tag on the bag and low and behold she is indeed correct. “Yes, there is,” I say with an awkward chuckle. “I’m so sorry about that. I guess we forgot to put it in the system. Let me fix that for you.”
The girl sighs in exasperation and taps her nails on the counter while I type on the computer, finding the button for discounts and applying it to the bag. “Once again, sorry about that,” I say brightly, “your total now comes to $277.83. Will you pay by card or cash?”
“Cash,” the girl says haughtily while pulling out three one-hundred-dollar bills.
I see someone thinks highly of themselves, I think while taking the bills and typing the amount into the computer, which totals the change to $22.17. I press enter and the cashier opens, displaying several bills. We’re all out of tens and we only have pickles and pennies. It’s not a problem, but it still takes me time searching and counting everything quickly. And when I mean, it takes time, I mean it takes me maybe three minutes. The girl rolls her eyes and sighs as I recount the change. She continues tapping her nails angrily on the counter. If I wasn’t an employee, I would tell her to knock it the fuck off, but sadly, the customer is always right in these situations. Meaning they can emotionally abuse me whenever they see fit.
“$22.17 is your change, ma’am,” I say sweetly while handing over the change and her receipt.
She doesn’t bother to count it and shoves everything into her small Dooney and Bourke wallet.
“Would you like a bag?”
“No,” she says angrily while heaving the bag over one shoulder. “God, you would think they would hire someone with a brain,” she murmurs on her way toward the door. “Stupid dumb jocks.”
Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out, I think while the door slowly clothes behind her.
I sigh and practically wilt onto the counter, laying my heating face on the cool surface. There’s only an hour left in the day. I can do this. There’s only been five customers and two of them were fuck faces. That’s not even half. I’m sure there will be at least one or two more and then I can go home and freakout about Rachel.
I have no clue what to do. There’s a 50 percent probability I’m the father of her child. What am I going to do if Seth turns out to be the father? Will I be relieved? Happy? Or will I feel disappointed? I have no clue how to feel. One day, everything seemed so normal and then, all of a sudden, Rachel tells me I could be the father of her baby. Why did I assume she was depressed? Why didn’t I dig deeper?
Maybe I was in denial. That could be it. I was so invested in what was going on in my life and how things have not been what I thought they would be. I didn’t want to notice that Rachel was changing. I wanted to assume it was depression, that she was putting on weight because she was eating her feelings. God. How could I have been so fucking blind?
I probably should be angry with Rachel, but I’m not. She kept a secret for this long, however I was the one who didn’t want to see the truth. I understand why she was so scared to tell us. She was worried how we would react. She was worried about Seth. Man, did he prove her right.
I pull myself off the counter and grab the broom behind me, needing something to do to pass the time, to keep myself from thinking of Rachel. We spent the last two days shopping for the baby at Lucas’s insistence. We didn’t even get to half of what was on his list. Rachel did find a few nice these in the maternity section. It’s so weird seeing her in those clothes, with her baby bump showing. She looks beautiful, like she’s glowing. I was surprised how much variety she had to choose from. And the baby clothes were cute. We didn’t get much. Lucas was also talking about arranging a baby shower for Rachel. I wonder if her mother knows.
My heart lurches and alarm bells go off in my head when I see Millie through the shop window, carrying a coffee in one hand and a workout bag in the other. She’s about to cross the street, her gaze locked dead on me. Can she see me, or is she zoning out?
I don’t take any chances. I drop the broom, hearing it knock on the ground several times while I dash toward the counter, jumping over it and crouching low in order to hide myself. “Please, don’t come inside,” I whisper while I wait for the bell on the door to ring. What is she doing out on a Saturday anyway? I thought locals went to campus during the weekend because the college kids are usually hungover? Maybe she just got out of the gym and wanted a post workout coffee? But Fitness Express isn’t even in this area.
My heart slams in my chest and I inhale deeply, trying to calm myself. I count to twenty before I dare to peak over the counter, finding no one staring into the window. The doorway is empty. The bell didn’t ring, so no one entered. She’s gone. Thank God she didn’t see me. She probably wasn’t even looking into the store. I don’t think camping or hiking is really her thing. She’s more of a dancing party girl than someone who enjoys nature. At least, the Millie I used to know. Hopefully, she’s moved on from her old ways, but I have my doubts.
“Hey, Hunter!” Bob, the manager, calls, bursting out from his office. “Since it’s not so busy you can head on…” Bob pauses, his eyes widening on me as I slowly rise from my crouch. “Home,” he finishes hesitantly. “What on Earth are you doing?”
“Oh, this?” I ask, trying desperately to come with some valid excuse to give him. “Well, I was just trying to get my squats in for the day.” I chuckle awkwardly while lowering myself into a low squat and rising again. “Just thought, since we’re not busy and all, I could get a quick workout in.”
Bob frowns and crosses his arms. I don’t think he’s buying it. He tilts his head at me and says, “You know, Hunter, you’re supposed to be cleaning when we’re dead. That’s what I pay you for.”
“Oh, yeah, of course,” I rush out. “I was sweeping just a few minutes ago. I will get back to it then!”
I feel Bob’s gaze on me as I briskly walk toward where I left my broom over by the window, hoping he doesn’t fire me for being an idiot. This really hasn’t been my day. I’m surprised he didn’t hear the last customer complaining and I worry there may be a crappy review posted later about our shop.
“When you’re finished with that, you can go home, Hunter,” says Bob.
“Okay,” I murmur, keeping my head down while I continue sweeping, ensuring I don’t miss a single dust molecule.
“Actually, Hunter, there is something I wanted to talk to you about.”
