Page 3 of When a Soul Cries

The other customer’s mouth fell open.

I lowered my head and pretended to study the register because losing my job for laughing at two customers arguing was not on my list of things to do that evening.

Not that I could afford to lose it for any reason.

My eyes drifted toward the clock mounted above customer service.

5:47 p.m.

My shift didn’t end until seven, but Bright Beginnings closed at six. Even if I walked out right then, evening traffic would make it nearly impossible to get across Crestmont in time to pick up Lo-Lo.

My phone vibrated again.

This time, I felt it all the way down in my stomach.

Something was wrong.

For one brief second, the noise inside the store faded. The scanners, the music, the customers complaining in line—all of it became distant beneath the sound of my heartbeat pounding inside my ears.

I pictured my one-year-old sitting in the daycare office with her little backpack beside her, waiting for me to walk through the door.

“Just take the pizza and the juice off,” the woman finally decided. “What’s the total now?”

I pressed the button and waited for the register to recalculate.

“One hundred seventy-two dollars and sixty-four cents.”

She stared at me.

I stared back.

“That didn’t do a damn thing.”

“I can only remove what you give me.”

She released a long, dramatic sigh before digging into her purse. “Go ahead and put the pizza back on there. If I’m getting robbed, I might as well have something to eat afterward.”

I added the pizza back to her order and tried to ignore the phone pressing heavily against my thigh.

“Your new total is one hundred eighty-one dollars and thirteen cents.”

She pulled out her card and stared at it as though she needed a moment to prepare it for the damage.

“You better go through,” she warned before sliding it into the reader. “Don’t embarrass me in front of all these people.”

We both watched the screen.

PROCESSING.

She held her breath.

The machine beeped.

APPROVED.

“There’s a God somewhere,” she whispered.

“Would you like your receipt?”