Juniper’s blue eyes fill with tears, and I can tell she’s trying her best to hold them back. She uses one of her shaking hands to hastily wipe the fallen drops.
What the hell?
“You okay?” I ask
“Yep. Just… ready to be done.”
“Why don’t we split up? We can get it done faster that way.”
Panic crosses her face for a brief moment, but she doesn’t protest. She nods. “I’ll take the rest of the food items.”
“Let’s meet back by the pharmacy in twenty minutes.”
I head back to the front to grab another cart, pushing through the crowds of people. When I have everything, I make my way to the pharmacy to wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Ten minutes past when we said we’d meet. Frustration bubbles in my stomach, but there’s another feeling there too.
Worry.
I pull out my phone and send Juniper a text, asking where she is.
No response.
Where the hell did she go?
I try calling, but it goes straight to voicemail.
I park my cart off to the side and start hustling through each aisle, but I don’t see her or her denim overalls anywhere. I do, however, find an abandoned cart with the items on our list by the meat section.
That’s not a good sign.
I don’t know her well enough to know where she’d go, but she couldn’t have gotten far. I don’t think she’d leave me stranded in the store. I don’t think she has a malicious bone in her body. My instincts are telling me to check the bathroom, so I head in that direction. I stop in front of a store employee.
“Excuse me, did you see a woman go into the bathroom? She’s about five feet tall, with brown hair, in overalls and a black long-sleeve shirt?”
“Yes,I saw her go in about fifteen minutes ago. Poor thing looked distraught. I think she was having a panic attack.”
Panic attack?
“Thanks.” I rush into the bathroom, checking under each stall until I find the pair of forest green tennis shoes I remember her wearing this morning. Soft sniffles filter through the other side of the door. There are a few other people in here. Has anyone heard or checked on her at all? Has she been crying on the bathroom floor for fifteen minutes with no one coming to help?
The thought makes me want to rage.
“Juniper,” I whisper, knocking on the stall door. “It’s Addison. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she croaks, her voice wobbling.
“Clearly, since you’re sobbing on the floor of a Costco bathroom.” I don’t mean for my words to come out so harshly, but I can’t help it. She scared the shit out of me, and now she’s pretending she’s fine?
The toilet flushes, and the door creaks open. Her eyes are swollen, her face splotchy and red. I let her pass me to wash her hands, never taking my eyes off her. Her hands are shaking still, her shoulders slumped in defeat.
She splashes water over her cheeks, patting them dry with a paper towel before she turns to me. “I’m sorry I didn’t meet you at the designated time. Let’s just pay for our stuff and head to the next stop.”
“Hey, whoa. Stop.” I grab her arm. It’s the first time we’ve touched, and I swear my fingers tingle. “Are you not going to explain?”
