Page 9 of His Wounded Heart

“You’re making this more difficult than it has to be,” the brunette whispers as she moves closer to me. “You might as well have said ‘acquire.’”

“Might as well make it an overall teaching moment,” I whisper back.

I turn back to Dennis. “Procure, as in retrieving or getting me another loaf of bread.”

“Why?”

This time, the question comes from the cashier.

“Dennis, take the contents out of the sack,” I slowly enunciate my order to the kid.

As if his life’s dream is to imitate a tortoise, Dennis pulls the orange, cranberry, and carrot juice bottles out of the bag and finally he holds up the mashed loaf of bread. Neither the cashier nor Dennis say anything.

“Do you notice anything wrong with the loaf of bread?” I prompt.

They both look at me. I truly don’t think anyone is home behind their blank stares. If I say ‘Bueller’ it’ll just age me more than my gray hair and they won’t get the reference anyway.

“Do you notice how the loaf of bread is almost flat?” I ask.

Dennis finally nods. The checker blows a bubble.

That’s it. Now I finally want to go off. I really do. But the cashier looks like she’s still in high school, and the bagger is even younger. He is at least three years younger than enlistment age, and I just can’t do it. Even so, it would be so damned satisfying.

I close my eyes, trying to think how to get through to them.

“You squished his bread ‘cause you put heavy stuff on it. That was stupid,” a high-pitched voice pipes up. It’s the daughter of the pretty mother.

I look down at the kid.

Dennis frowns at her. “He wasn’t talking to you,” he protests.

“Well, she’s the one who understands the situation, so I’m talking to her now. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“I’m Bella. My mom says she always has to tell people here how to put things in the bags she brings, especially the eggs. It used to be that they’d be broken. There’s this one girl who bags that Mama just shoos away and does it herself. Maybe you should shoo him away, Mister.”

“That’s enough, Bellatrix Star.” Her mother’s voice is stern.

“But he said that I understood things, and he’s talking to me.”

I look from daughter to mother and I see the consternation on the woman’s face. It’s clear that her daughter has relayed too much information, but the kid’s a kick. Best medicine I could have asked for this morning.

“You know, if you brought in your own bags, like my Mama does, you could probably arrange things easier. Plus, it’s better for the ‘vironment.”

I look back up at her mother. She gives me a weary smile. “You wanna play? You’re going to pay.” It takes a minute for me to figure out what the pretty woman is saying to me, but then I catch on. Apparently, I was going to have a hard time stopping the kid once she got going.

“He only has to pay if he swears, Mama.” The little munchkin looks back at me. “It’s a dollar a swear, Mister. That’s what Uncle Drake and all of his friends pay me.”

“We’ve started a savings account,” her mother says. “If she attends in-state, she already has her first year of college paid for,” the woman sighs as she tucks her long, brunette hair behind her ear. She looks down at her daughter. “What’s the rule?”

“We don’t demand money from strangers.” Bella pouts. “But all of Uncle Drake’s friends were strangers before I was introduced.” She swings her head toward me and pushes out her hand. “I’m Bella Avery. What’s your name?”

What a fucking riot.

“I’m Co—” I stop myself. I take a breath, then shake her tiny hand. “My name is Simon Clark.”

She twists her head and looks back at her mom. “See, we’re not strangers anymore.”

“Can you speed things along?”