Orie knows what each of the essential oils helps with, and I’ve told her about some of my…struggles before. Jasmine is a nice,calming scent to me, and anything else it helps me with is just a bonus.
As I insert my card, she packs up my things, and out of the corner of my eye, I see her put something else in my bag. I glance up at her, tilting my head and raising a brow.
She slides the bag to me, her hand still at the top. “Just something extra to try—for thescent, of course.”
“But—” I don’t even get a second word out before Orie cuts me off.
“Just take it. On me.”
I give her a small smile. “Thank you.”
“Of course. Anything for my best friend.” She winks, crossing her arms. “You better hurry though, the post office closes soon.”
With that, I turn, hustling out the door and waving over my shoulder to her. She knows me well, almosttoowell. She is right, I need to get to the post office before it closes, otherwise they’ll send me another notice.
Walking as quickly as my feet will take me, I make it to the post officejustbefore close. The worker seems unimpressed at my timing, but their attitude changes when they’re able to give me all of my packages.
The sheer number of packages and parcels I need to drag home is much more than I anticipated. If I were the worker, I’d be happy to clear some room out back too. Now the question is, how am I going to get these home?
“Any chance I can take half today and half tomorrow?” I ask hesitantly, looking between the stack and the worker.
The worker sighs, shaking their head. “Yes, but there’ll be a fee since they’ve already been here so long.”
My shoulders sink as I stare at the daunting pile. Icanpay the fee, but that also means having to come back outagain. I’d rather not do that.
“How about this…” The worker glances around, as if looking for any prying ears. “I’ll lend you one of our carts, but youhaveto bring it back tomorrow.”
A wave of relief floods through me. “Really?”
“Yes, but only for you, Raya—since you’re a regular.” The worker’s tone is serious as they nod. “If you don’t return the cart tomorrow, I’ll be inhugetrouble.”
As much as I don’t want to go out two days in a row, I can’t pass up their generosity. Besides, dropping off a cart is less socializing than having to get a second load of packages.
I nod, watching as they disappear into the back, reappearing only a few moments later, pushing a canvas-style cart in front of them, the post office logo plastered on the side.
The hairs on my arms stand up, a chill running down my spine. I have to walk home pushingthat? Oh, my Gods. My neighborsandrandom people will see that.
No words come to me as I watch the worker pack up the cart, filling it with all my mail. I guess there’s no going back now.
Unless I run out of the store, close my PO box, and disappear forever…which sounds like a very tempting option right now. Public humiliation or disappearing off the face of the earth?
Disappearing off the face of the earth.
Unfortunately, my feet seem to be glued in place, and I don’t make it anywhere near the door. The worker pushes the cart right in front of me, smiling as they look proudly at their packing job.
“Well, it’s closing time. Have a good night, Raya. Hopefully you got some cool stuff in there.” While their voice is chipper, they can’t keep their eyes off of the door behind me.
A silent way of telling me to get out.
Grabbing the cart and beginning to push it out the door feels like an out-of-body experience, like I’m not totally in controlof what I’m doing. This must be my mind’s way of protecting myself from what I deem anincrediblyembarrassing situation.
I’m definitely not sleeping well tonight.
Pushing this heavy cart as fast as I can, I take First Ave to Harmony Road, heading home a different way. This way means that I won’t have to pass by Orie’s store again, and have the embarrassment of her seeing me push this cart.
This way feels a bit longer to get home, but the other way runs the risk ofwaymore people seeing this. I don’t want to take that risk.
Every crack or bump in the sidewalk has me gripping the cart for dear life, desperate for it not to tip over. There’s no way of knowing if there’s anything fragile in my packages until I open them.
