“I feel like crap,” Noah complains as we walk through the aisles.
“You look like crap,” I retort, earning a small scowl. “But don’t worry, apparently, it only lasts a day or two and then you’ll be right as rain.”
Tossing a few more things in the cart, Noah dutifully shuffles toward checkout next to me. He’s looking more miserable by the minute. I’m exhausted and running out of patience for today. It seemed like anything that could go wrong, did.
Standing with Noah at my side, I give him a brief smile and brush his hair off his forehead. There are only a few people ahead of us, so it shouldn’t take long.
An older woman, possibly in her early fifties, stands in front of us, holding mostly junk food. It takes everything in me not to laugh. I hope to still be enjoying my favorites when I hit her age. The cart is full of cookies, ice cream, soups, and chips.
Her gaze meets Noah’s, and she smiles at him. “I like your jersey. You must be quite the soccer star with cleats like those.” She gestures toward his feet.
He smiles but doesn’t say anything.
“He does pretty good,” I admit, thinking of his up-coming game. It dawns on me that tomorrow is his first game, and he’s going to miss it. Poor kid has been working so hard too.
“Your total is fifty-two dollars and eighty-four cents,” the cashier tells the lady as I put our things on the conveyor belt. I shake my head when Noah eyes the rack of candy. It’s the last thing he needs right now.
“Oh shoot. I forgot my card. Do you mind waiting just a minute?” the customer asks the cashier. “I parked right out front. It’ll take liketwo minutes.” Turning to me, she apologizes, “I’m so, so sorry. I should only be a minute.”
After watching her exit, I look at Noah, who’s getting paler.Shit.
I point toward the bathrooms, which are located near the checkout area. “Go!” I watch him run to the bathroom and pray he doesn’t slide on the floor in his cleats. I really need to get him slides or something for after practice.
Glancing toward the entrance, I don’t see the woman yet, and a few more people have joined the line.
“Here, I’ll pay. It’s no biggie.”
I tap my card on the terminal and smile at the cashier.
“Whatever.” He puts her bags into her cart and pushes it to the side.
Ringing up my few items, he gives me my total, and I tap my card again.
As I load the last bag into the cart, Noah comes out of the bathroom. My heart clenches when I notice how awful he looks.
“Come on, bud.”
He joins me as we head toward the exit.
“I’m here! I’m so sorry. I got a phone call and got so distracted!” the woman who was in front of me explains to the cashier.
“Your stuff was already paid for.” He shrugs, pointing to her cart that sits to the side.
“I don’t understand.”
“I dunno what to tell you,” the kid responds, pointing in my direction. “She paid for it, so you’re set.”
Her eyes turn to mine, and she takes in Noah’s pale face. “I’m so sorry,” she apologizes. “I didn’t think it would take but a minute. Let me pay you, please.”
I shake my head. “It’s no big deal. Just pay it forward.”
“I insist.” She walks next to me with her cart in tow.
“Seriously, it’s not a big deal. Enjoy your evening.”
I head to my car with Noah, who freezes before taking off for the shrubberyclose by.
Sighing, I say a silent prayer for this vomit to be the last.
