Okay, put on your big-girl panties and adult, I decided. Eat more than the junk I used to live on in college and my first job. Just look at Killian. There was a reason he looked so hot and healthy every time he came by. The man fed himself actual food.
Hmm… Wonder what he was having for dinner. Probably he was planning on making himself something delicious. Did he cook dinner topless, too? Flex those forearms while he was shifting pots and pans? Maybe even admire his own tats?
I would if I had arms like his.
My stomach growled. The sound probably meant, Less fantasizing, more food!
I grabbed my keys and went outside. The air was getting warmer, typical of this time of year, when spring was transitioning to summer. The breeze was refreshing, carrying the scents of grass and new leaves on the trees, and I inhaled it deeply. I didn’t know air could smell like this. I needed to open windows in my home and let some of it in.
Deliberately not looking toward Killian’s house, I drove to Sunny’s Mart. Grabbed a big cart and pushed it into the store like a responsible adult who intended to eat healthily.
But the piles of vegetables just weren’t enticing. Washing, peeling and prepping everything… Simply imagining the amount of work made me feel exhausted. I grabbed some strawberries and oranges. They required the least amount of effort. Since I was being so good, I went to the beer section, spotted two cases of Hop Hop Hooray raspberry beer lying in the aisle that nobody from Sunny’s Mart had put on the shelves yet and seized them. The raspberries used in the beer must count. Nobody ever said you had to chew your fruit.
I went to the frozen food section to get some TV dinners. A few looked decent. Then I spotted the ultimate prize: a guy in a purple Sunny’s Mart apron stocking ice cream. And not just any ice cream, but Bouncy Bare Monkeys.
Jackpot! This must be how Neolithic hunter-gatherers had felt when they discovered a giant mammoth stuck in a crevasse.
He shut the clear freezer door and moved off. Excitement sparking through me, I hurried over to get the ice cream. But a loud scream rang through the otherwise quiet supermarket.
Molly—not my Molly, but Kingstree’s Molly—was coming around the corner, while her son bellowed, “I said I want cookies, not stupid ice cream!” He was disheveled and his eyes were wild, like a cat being pushed into a bathtub full of water.
What kid doesn’t want ice cream? Maybe he was lactose intolerant. My dad was, and he couldn’t have any ice cream, which was karmic justice.
Instead of shushing her son, Molly was texting, her thumbs moving busily. He threw himself on the floor and started kicking like a toddler, even though he had to be at least eight.
“We’re getting ice cream,” she said finally, not even looking up, which only seemed to make her kid’s face redder. Now he looked like an overripe tomato. Tears and snot covered his cheeks, nose and chin.
I shot her my meanest look. Lady, rein in your out-of-control kid!
She looked up from her phone as though she’d sensed my evil laser glare. “What are you looking at?” she demanded, moving toward me.
“I’m looking at what I’m being forced to listen to,” I said, then snapped up every tub of Bouncy Bare Monkey. Partly to spite her and partly because who knew when the store would get more?
All six tubs sat in my cart. I’d give one or two to Killian tomorrow morning. That seemed fair, since he was paying for the eggs and cheese for my portion of the breakfast.
“Wait, are those Bouncy Bare Monkeys?” Molly said, coming rapidly toward me in her heels. She hadn’t looked at her kid, not even once.
He was still throwing a fit, although he’d somehow rolled around in the aisle to follow her. It looked like he had a lot of experience sticking close to his mom and pitching a fit at the same time.
“Give me that!” she said, reaching into my cart with both hands, each on one tub. “George, stop hollering and come help me!”
Rude, much? “Don’t even think about it.” I shoved my cart away, while her son completely ignored her.
Red mottled her face. “Don’t be a selfish bitch!”
“Selfish? At least I’m not imposing my kid on everyone in the store. Buy your son the damn cookies.”
She nodded, somehow making the movement sarcastic. “Oh, I see. A lot of experience with kids?”
“None at all. But I’m certainly not going to have one and let him roll all over a grocery store while screaming.”
She tried to stick her hands into my cart again, and I quickly turned it so she couldn’t grab the ice cream.
“I’m buying these for a neighbor,” I said. Only a couple were for Killian, but she didn’t need to know such an inconsequential detail. “Now cut it out or I’m calling the manager.”
Before she could stop me or try to steal my ice cream again, I went over to the checkout. A cashier who I’d seen a couple of times sighed and shook his head at the antics of Molly’s kid.
“Does he do that often?” I asked, despite my firm resolution not to gossip with the townsfolk.