12
POLLY
“Hekissedyou?”Carlyclutches an eggplant to her chest.Andgiven the pitch of her shriek, most of the neighborhood dogs will come streaming through the door any second.
“Myhand.”Iset a fresh supply of recycled brown paper grocery bags on the counter and snip the string around them. “Isaid he kissed myhand.”
“Howhave we made it to almost closing time the following day without me knowing about this?”Carlyasks, shocked, appalled, and almost bouncing with excitement all at the same time. “Whydidn’t you tell me?Whathappened to the whole ‘soul sister’ thing?”
“Ineeded time to process it.AndIdidn’t want you to thinkImight be swayed by it.”
“Whyin the name of holy fuckery are younotswayed by it?”Sheholds up the eggplant and waggles it at me. “Imean, what the hell’s wrong with you?Ahot billionaire kissed you,Poll.He’soffered you enough cash to keep you and your mom comfortable for the rest of your lives.Butyou want to cling on to the shop?”Shespreads her arms wide, holding the eggplant out at full stretch. “And, get this, you still want to organize aprotestagainst him?”
Ipull the string from around the bags.
“Wherethe hell have your principles suddenly vanished to all of a sudden?”Iwind the string around my fingers. “Peoplelike that can’t be allowed to get away with walking all over us, with thinking we’re merely pawns in their money-making games.”
Shebangs the eggplant down on top of the others.Ilook up from the string-winding and nod at it. “That’llbe bruised now.Takeit home for dinner.”
Sheleaves it where it is and strides up to the counter.
“Look,Poll.”Sheplants her elbows on top of the stack of bags to stop me working on them, and rests her chin on her hands. “YouknowIunderstand.You’refighting for a principle because your folks were so burned before.Ofcourse,Iunderstand.Butthis wouldn’t be the same.It’sa giant check that would end all your worries about the shop, and you could fix up the house.Oryou and your mom could move, or do whatever you want to do.Andlive happily ever after.”
Iopen the counter drawer and drop the string loop into the pot with all the other string loops.They’llcome in handy for something one day.
Carlygrabs my sleeve, tugs my left arm toward her across the counter, and takes hold of my hand. “Andthis deal might come with a side helping of a smart, sexy, rich-as-fuck dude in your bed.”
Shehas no idea how unlikely that is.Ididn’t tell her about the muddy, almost-kiss humiliation.Tooshameful.
“Youcan put that idea out of your head right now.”Isnatch back my hand.
Shestraightens and smiles. “Asmart, sexy, rich-as-fuck dude who’s kissed that very handIwas just holding.”
“Itwas actually this one.”Iwave my right hand at her. “AndIcan’t believe you’re saying this.”Itake the rubber stamp and ink pad out of the drawer. “It’syou who taught me to fight against plastic straws in the school cafeteria, to shop at the thrift store, and to stand up forArtiShadwick.”
Artiwas in our class in middle school.Agang of bullies took his glasses and smashed them.Hisparents couldn’t afford new ones, soCarlyorganized a collection.Andwhen the big dumb guys weren’t punished, she gathered witnesses and a petition, took her case to the principal and they were suspended.
Sheshould have been a lawyer.Butshe went to art school instead.Hence, she now sells produce with me.
“ButIlove you.Andyour mom.”Herwords make my heart swell with how luckyIam to have her as my best friend. “Andmy only priority here is what’s best for you guys.”
Whenwe were kids,Carly’smom had to work all hours to make ends meet after her dad left.Carlywould come home with me after school and have dinner with us most days till her mom picked her up on her way home from her evening job.She’sfamily.
Ipress the stamp into the ink pad with one hand and rub her arm with the other.
“Iknow.Ilove you too.”Igive her a gentle push. “Butget off the bags.”
Ibang the stamp onto the top bag, then peel it off to reveal a perfectPolly’sProducelogo.DesignedbyCarly, obviously.
Shetips her head sideways to examine it. “Ikeep thinkingIshould add some flowers.Maybeinside the o’s.”
Weboth look around as the door jingles open.It’sthe first arrivals for this evening’s protest strategy meeting.
“Lastchance to call it off,” saysCarly, her expression like a kid begging to stay up late.
Igrab the bags and stamp off the counter, slide them onto the shelf underneath, and slowly shake my head.
* * *
