Elias:I’d never. Sounds perfect to me. When will you be done buying the store? I’ll be out of here in about an hour.
Me:I’m not buying the store! This is a light trip. I usually have two carts. I’ll be done soon.
Elias:When we have kids, the two carts will turn to four.
Me:I like that number.
Elias:Well, whatever you like, I like.
“Wow. You must really like this guy if he makes you smile like that,” Jeremy says, bringing me back to the present.
I forgot he was right next to me.
“Yeah, I do. I’m pretty sure I’m completely in love with him.”
“He’s a lucky guy. I’m happy for you. Really.”
I turn to him and give him a soft, appreciative smile. “Thanks. That means a lot.” I turn down another aisle, a wheel on the cart beginning to squeak. “What’s on your mind? You have that look in your eye.”
He blows out a breath and shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. I feel a little lost. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing. How did you know Warrick General is where you wanted to be? You never told me if you wanted more, like…climbing the ladder, you know.”
“Hmmm,” I hum while I gather my thoughts. “I only ever wanted a job that I could tolerate and make enough money to live my life. I had no interest in climbing the ladder. I didn’t want my life consumed by corporate or any job, really. My goal was to just be happy, to make enough money to support the life I want. I think you just need to figure out whatyouwant, not what’s expected of you, if that makes sense. If you want to climb ladders and be the big bad CEO, great. If you don’t, great. Who cares? As long as you’re happy in the end, that’s all that matters.”
He nods long and hard, then a big smile crosses his face. “You’re right. You’re so right. Thanks, Olivia. It was great seeing you. I think…I think I want to go to art school. I want to draw.”
“You were always really great at that. I think you should.”
His eyes seem brighter and hopeful, as if what I said really helped him. “It was really good seeing you. I wish you and Elias the best. Truly. Have a good one, Liv.”
“You too, Jeremy.”
He gives me another hug, but it’s quick and light, and then he runs to the other end of the store, completely out of sight.
I sigh when I look down at my cart. I might have gone a little overboard. It’s best if I stop now. I head to the cashier, a young lady wearing a blue apron who’s chewing gum behind the counter as I begin to unload the cart. I can tell she’s annoyed by the way she blows a bubble, staring at me with pure disdain.
“Do you have your own bags or would you like paper?” Her voice is even and monotone, showing barely any sign of life.
“Paper is fine. Thank you.”
With every swipe of a barcode over the scanner, it beeps. Over a hundred beeps later, and I’m paying and on my way out the door with the entire store in my cart, according to Elias. I wanted us to be prepared to never leave the apartment ever again. I know that isn’t realistic, but a girl can dream.
I load up the car, the last bag containing the pregnancy test box.
It’s early. Probably way too early to detect, but I’m excited. I couldn’t stop myself from buying it. I’ve felt different the last few days. I can’t explain it. My body just feelsdifferent than it usually does. Maybe the test is negative and that’s okay. I don’t expect to get pregnant so soon. But we haven’t been safe at all. There hasn’t been a day where Elias hasn’t come inside me. Sometimes multiple times a day.
Slamming the trunk of my car, I can’t help the giddiness consuming me as I rush to the driver’s side door. I’m ready to get home and get the bedroom ready with a bunch of blankets and lay out all the treats on a tray.
All I have to do is push through the anxiety of driving in the dark. The lights always blur together, and it makes it difficult to see the road. Luckily, I don’t live far away. It’s a ten-minute drive and I know the route like the back of my hand.
Pulling onto the street, I make a right, stopping at a main intersection as I wait for the light to turn green. One of my favorite songs comes on the radio and I’m tapping my fingers against the steering wheel.
My attention flies to the rearview mirror when the headlights coming from behind me don’t slow down.
“Shit. Shit. Please, slow down,” I beg, curling my hand around the steering wheel.
The music blaring through the speakers fades when my heart begins to race. A cold sweat breaks out over my skin, my eyes locked on the headlights reflecting in the mirror. I brace myself, and the impact comes a second later, metal on metal grinding and crunching.
The force shoves me into the middle of the intersection, and my head slams against the steering wheel, the pain immediate through my skull and down my neck.
