Page 10 of Wrapped Up in You


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I put the cart in the corral, and we begin our walk home with our bags in hand. We’re a block or two away from the store, when I hear, “Ma’am, ma’am!”

I glance behind me and spot the teenage boy, who had been bagging the groceries, sprinting my way.

“Whew,” he says, his hands resting on his knees to catch his breath. “I didn’t think I was going to catch you.” He extends his hand, holding a plastic bag in front of me.

“Oh, did I forget something?”

“Um, kind of.” He smiles shakily as I take the bag from him and look inside it: cake mix, frosting, and conditioner.

“Who did this?” I ask, my lids filling with tears.

“Mommy, the cake mix for Daddy is in there!” Jordan screeches in excitement. “Thank you!” She wraps her arms around the boy’s legs, and he chuckles, patting the top of her head.

“Actually, it wasn’t me,” he says with an awkward shrug.

“Oh. I didn’t buy these,” I tell him, attempting to hand the bag back since there’s obviously been some sort of misunderstanding, and the last thing I want is to be accused of stealing.

“I know,” he says. “But they’re paid for.”

“By who?”

“Umm…” He looks at me uncomfortably. “I think it was supposed to be anonymous.”

I think about who could’ve done it. The woman making the annoyed noises wouldn’t have bothered. It could’ve been the cashier, but… “The gentleman behind me,” I guess. The same man who gave me the five dollars.

“Yeah.” The kid nods.

“That was very nice of him. Do you know how I can find him to thank him?”

The kid raises a brow. “You don’t know who he is?”

“We’re new here. Only moved to Christmas Valley a couple of months ago.”

“Ahh, that makes sense. His name is Pierce Adler. He works at the fire station.”

“Oh, do you know which one?”

He chuckles. “There’s only one.” He points in the direction of downtown. “You can’t miss the two-story red-brick building.”

After thanking him for running the bag to me, Jordan and I head home, and then we spend the rest of the day making the cake and looking through the photo album.

“Mommy,” Jordan says with a yawn as I tuck her into bed. “We should bring the fireman a piece of Daddy’s cake since he saved it. We can pay it…next?”

I smile at my daughter, so proud of the little person she’s growing up to be. On our way home, I explained to her that the firefighter who was in line behind us paid for the items, saving the day and that one day when we have the money, we’ll pay it forward and help someone else who’s in need.

“Pay it forward,” I correct her. “And we can do that.” I lean over and kiss her forehead. “How about tomorrow?”

“Okay! And can we get a tree too? Thanksgiving is soon, and we need a tree to decorate.”

I open my mouth to correct her and tell her that the holidays are still a bit off, but when I click on my phone to see the date, I realize she’s right. Thanksgiving is just around the corner. Which means we’re going to need to get a tree soon if we want to continue our tradition of decorating the tree after we eat Thanksgiving dinner. Just like I used to do with my grandma when she was alive and then with Trent and Jordan once she was born.

The only problem is, while Jordan was taking a bath, I looked at my banking info and learned that I was in the negatives—hence my card being declined. I forgot about the check I wrote to Jordan’s school for the field trip they’re going on. Then the electric and water bills went through. Luckily, the check cleared, though everything else bounced, leaving my account not only in the negatives but also with overdraft fees to boot.

Being an adult is hard. My entire life, I had everything taken care of for me. Even when Trent and I lived together, he handled the checking account and bills. And when I moved in with Silvia and Ron, I paid them. When I told Silvia I was moving out, she said I’d never make it on my own, but I didn’t fully understand what she meant until now. The bills add up, and what I make is barely enough. Because I had to take off when Jordan and I were sick, I fell behind on everything when I already didn’t have any wiggle room, which means…

“I’m so sorry,” I tell my daughter, my voice cracking with emotion as I wonder for the first time if my mom was right. Maybe I’m not fit to be a mom. “I don’t have any money right now for a tree.”

Not only do I have no money, but the electric and water bills are now late—thankfully, they can’t shut it off during winter, but I don’t want to get behind and owe more money. If something were to happen, I don’t even have a credit card in my name that would save us. I guess it’s a good thing Silvia took back the car I was driving because there’s no way I could afford that payment, plus the insurance and gas.

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