Page 4 of Judge of Saints and Sinners

2

Justine

The sharp edges of the cardboard box bit into my palm as I walked slowly to the front of the store. My steps were measured, careful, the worn-out soles of my sneakers nearly silent against the pharmacy’s thickly waxed tile floor.

One, two, one, two, I chanted to myself, forcing one foot after the other until I reached the counter. A grim-faced man stood there, his colorful vest and name tag a matching horrid shade of eggplant. Ted, it read in bold letters.

Seeing my hesitation, or perhaps he was just always upset, Ted gave a soft grunt and knocked his knuckles against the speckled laminate. “Right here, young lady.”

“Just this, please,” I said, leaning on the manners my mother had worked so hard to instill in me. Under the ripped jeans and too faded T-shirt, all designed to make sure I did everything to blend in, I was still my mother’s daughter.

Ted grunted again, and I decided that it must just be his native tongue. I placed the box of cough medicine on the counter, and Ted quickly swiped it across the reader with a cheerful mechanical chirp, his gaze back on me.

“Your total is $9.42.”

I laid out the amount in cash and coins, down to the exact cent, and while Ted made a big show of picking up each of the coins, he neither said nor grunted anything else. Still, I felt exposed, others joining the line behind me in an effort to check out too. I could almost feel their eyes on me. My fingers twitched, so I pressed them hard against my sides, remembering what the counselor had told me to do when I was anxious.

Touch something. Describe it to myself. Under my hand, the denim was soft, worn, the seams raised as the fabric was gathered together at the pocket. I ran my fingernail along the cut in fabric, willing Ted to move faster. I needed to get out of here.

Finally, he held out the loud, snapping plastic bag to me with my receipt in his other hand. I took them both, whispering a quick, “Thank you.”

Ted eyed me, dull eyes disinterested as I moved to the door.

“Ma’am! Wait just a second.”

I stiffened, freezing a stride from the automatic doors. If I ran now, I could probably make it. I just had to get around the corner, to the hiding spot I’d already scouted out. I had gotten fast. I could make it.

“Yes?” I turned, forcing a smile to my mouth as I looked back at the new voice. Another purple-vested employee was hurrying towards me, but unlike the checkout employee, he wore a wide grin on his face.

“You dropped this,” the boy said, his cheeks an unusual shade of red as he held out a piece of paper to me.

My heart skipped a beat when I realized what he held, but I kept my face carefully blank, reaching out to take the slip of paper.

“How silly of me. Thank you.” My eyes dropped to his name tag, reading Danny quickly before meeting his smile once more.

“It’s okay. I do that kind of stuff all the time.” Danny scrubbed the back of his neck, his eyes wandering over me appreciatively for a moment. Unlike his colleague, he didn't seem to notice my rundown apparel. I should be glad, since it distracted him from the evidence that I now held in my fingers.

I stepped towards him, letting my eyelids lower as I bit into my bottom lip. “Well, apparently you're my hero.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Danny said, following the motion of my teeth with wide, dark eyes.

I contained the roll of my eyes that nearly emerged at his comment. But it seemed like my distraction had worked. Score one for me. Well, nearly. I still had to get out of this place. Which reminded me…

I offered my best smile. “Well, I’ve got to go, my brother needs this.” To emphasize, I held up my bagged purchase. Behind me, Ted was checking out another customer, the plaintive beeping blending into the white noise around us.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Come back any time.” Smiling Danny gave me an enthusiastic wave that I returned with far less gusto. I needed to get out of here. And soon. My feet carried me quickly down the sidewalk until I was turning, crisscrossing downtown Omaha. It was no New York City, and while I wasn’t sure it was home, it was home for now. Or it would be, as long as I didn’t get caught doing something stupid. Or rather, more stupid than usual.

I glanced over my shoulder. I kept hurrying, my backpack digging into my shoulder, as the sun began to fade, turning the already gray downtown into something dark and ominous. I was shivering by the time I reached my apartment building, and not just because my clothing was fucking threadbare.

Ever since my parents died, there’d been something, just there, right behind me. It followed me from Georgia to Tennessee. Then from Tennessee to Ohio. And now, just when I finally felt like I’d settled into whatever I could consider a normal life here in Omaha, it was rearing its head again.

I hated it.

I yanked open the door to the shitty apartment building that I'd been staying in since early summer. My neck ached from how I kept it turned as I climbed staircase after staircase after staircase. Instantly I regretted the fact I’d only had a package of ramen noodles roughly seven hours ago. I got a little woozy by the fourth floor.

I rounded the final turn and took a quick look around. No one. Perfect. I was in no shape to talk to anyone about why I had half a pharmacy shoved down my bra or why I was carrying cough medicine around like it was some kind of buffer against the world. Glad for the peace, I slowed my pace, skipping over the most squeaking floorboards in the hall as I approached Rocky's apartment. Instead of knocking, I took a spare key out of my jeans’ pocket, pressing my hand against my breasts as I turned the old-style skeleton key in the lock and stepped inside.

The scent of old furniture crept over me—not bad, not good, just familiar. I shut the door carefully, eyeing the young child lying across the faded green sofa on the side wall. My footsteps were measured as I smiled, watching the distinct rise and fall of his chest. I was tempted to press a hand to his temple, to check his temperature, but I was sure that his grandfather had already done that.