But the music always stops, and reality sets back in.
I’m still partially behind on rent, using the cash from Solomon to catch up on utilities, stock the fridge and freezer, and fix my car. Thankfully, my landlord is a little old lady who was definitely a saint in a past life.
I’m not allowed to drive for another two weeks, so some of the money is going to rideshares to take me to and from my appointments.
But today I’ve landed somewhere else.
Somewhere I probably shouldn’t be.
The familiar jingle bell greets me like a bone-deep trigger. My skin starts to sweat as I use my crutches to drag my weight through the entrance, my attention landing on a middle-aged woman behind the counter, her dark hair threaded with glints of silver. There’s another woman beside her with similar features. Mid-twenties, maybe.
Mother and daughter.
Together they sift through the register, talking among themselves, glancing up with smiles as I struggle to keep myself upright.
“Good afternoon,” the younger woman calls out.
I hesitate, my heart pounding in my chest.
Invisible voices scream at me to turn the other way, to book it before they realize who I am. The damage I’ve caused. But guilt is a fucking parasite, and I need to do whatever I can to relieve myself of its weight. To set it free.
“Um, hey.” Slowly, I inch toward the checkout station, leaning my crutches against the counter topped with an assortment of panic-buys. Fishing through my pockets, I pull out a handful of change.
Three dollars and twenty-seven cents.
I place it on the counter and meet the daughter’s eyes.
Her smile falters. “Are you…buying something?”
“Yeah. Sort of. I’m…” Flashbacks trickle through me. Fluorescent lights streak across my vision, disorienting me. Gun smoke. Clipped, garbled words. Fiery pain sheathed in a crimson haze. “I was here a few weeks ago. I owe you for a can of dog food.”
The older woman lets out a squeak. A strangled, choking sound.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “For everything.”
The daughter’s face shifts in an instant, smile gone. Her whole body tightens like a bowstring as she rounds the counter.
“Get out,” she snaps, standing right in front of me, her voice low but shaking. “You need to leave.”
“I’m so sorry—”
“You ruined our lives. Do you realize that? My father is under investigation. We’re drowning in legal fees.”
I force a swallow. “I’m not pressing charges.”
“That’s not the point,” she grits out. “He never meant to hurt anyone. We’ve been robbed three times this year, and he’s been working double shifts just to pay off my medical school loans. This store is all we have. Now we could lose everything.”
“Parvati…” The older woman rushes over, placing a palm on her daughter’s shoulder.
“I’m going to rectify that,” I say, extending a hand like a peace offering. I can hardly stay upright, partly from my pulsing leg, but mostly from the devastation I feel soaking into every pocket of this gas station, trying to pull me under. “I will, I promise. It was an accident.”
“Stealing is not an accident.” She steps two inches closer. “Do you know how terrified he was going to work every day for the past few months? He didn’t have a choice. But you did.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I can’t believe you had the nerve to show your face here.”
“I’m—”
