Page 10 of Issued
I smile, but don’t turn to look at him.
“Never figured you listened to country.”
“You’d be surprised.” I let out a little puff of air and try to suppress the smile that tugs on the corners of my mouth when his knee begins jerking up and down in time with the base drums of the song. Good. He’s feeling better.
Pressing on the break, I turn the truck into the parking lot. Yes, front-row parking. I jump out of the truck and straighten my clothes a little. Jim heads off and grabs a cart, leaning over it to support some of his weight. He follows as I run around picking fruits and grains. He occasionally grabs something off the shelves and throws it into the cart. I stop in front of the hygiene section and my cheeks heat instantly.
This is awkward.
My ears burn as I reach for the tampons with shaky hands and bury it deep into the cart, under the pack of toilet paper. I swiftly turn around and make my way down the aisle. I peek at him over my shoulder, pretending to look for stuff. He doesn’t seem too frazzled. More like bored, as he absentmindedly scans the rows of products.
“Jim.” A tall man wearing a baseball cap with a bone-frog symbol on it nods at him in passing.
“Mike.” Jim matches his tone and throws him a smile. I know that smile—tight lipped, brows furrowed, head tilted slightly to the right. He has given me a few of those. It’s his fake smile.
Jim heads down the cleaning supply aisle, grabbing a gallon of floor cleaner. He spins the bottle around, reading the label. Ingredients lists are worse than procedure lists for science class experiments.
I’d love to blame Jim’s apparent label dissection on his OCD, but my father did the same thing. Ugh, how many shopping trips took hours because Dad and I had to argue over the quality of name brand versus generic? Not to mention most of those items have the same exact ingredients but because one carries a particular name, the product costs more.
I’d do anything to have him here right now. Arguing with me over Charmin versus store-label toilet paper.
The pain catches me off guard, stealing my breath and making me lean over the cart and squeeze the handle until my knuckles go white.
I wait a few seconds for the sensation to pass before I turn down the next row and force myself to focus on shopping. I grab a family-sized box of Lucky Charms off the shelf. Nothing like empty calorie marshmallows to satisfy my sweet tooth. Jim pulls up with the cart, running his hand through his hair and down his neck. I go to add my box of cereal to the cart and pause. “Holy crap.”
He shrugs. “I like Oreos.”
Likeis an understatement. Five packages of double-stuffed cookies are crammed into the cart.
“Though, I shouldn’t really be judging because...” I shake my box of Lucky Charms a couple of times and then pose with it. “Magically delicious.”
“You sing along to Willie Nelson with that mouth?”
“Right after I take a hit of that marshmallow goodness.” I sniff at the box. He shakes his head and his mouth creases as he tries to hold back a smile. I place the cereal box on top of the other shopping with theatrical caution and we walk to the register side by side.
Jim pulls his wallet out from his back pocket and I grab his forearm. “I’ll pay. You only got a couple of things.”
“No, I got it.” He hands his credit card to the cashier and I squeeze past him to start bagging the groceries.
After loading everything into the back seat of the truck, Jim walks to the passenger side again. I chew the inside of my cheek. His headache should’ve dissipated by now. Maybe he’s got a concussion.
By the time I climb into the truck, Jim has the glove compartment open and takes an envelope out. He fishes out a debit card and hands it to me. My name is etched across the bottom.
“This isn’t necessary. I’m nodependa.” I throw the card onto the armrest console and start the car. I may have lost everything, may have quit my job to get away from New York, but I still want to keep my dignity. The same way Dad worked extra shifts to pay bills insurance wouldn’t cover when Mom got sick. “I lived at home to pay off my college loans and still paid my dad rent. I’m not here to try to fleece you.” My shoulders stiffen. Our family paid our own way, even if we had to eat ramen for dinner for a month.
“Listen, I’m sorry about that.” He faces straight ahead as he takes the card and flips it around in his hands. “This is different. The military has some strict guidelines when it comes to finances. It’s a bit difficult to understand. Hell, it’s difficult to explain too. Having a...someone...depending on me—”
“A dependent.” I shift to face him. Might as well call a spade a spade.
“Yes, for lack of a better term. Having a dependent means my pay increases so that I’m able to support you. Financially. As my wife.”
“Right...” My voice trails off as I get stuck on that one word.
Wife.
He meets my gaze. “Brass is really anal about it, but to be fair, they have to be. They’re just trying to protect the families. Give them benefits. In case something happens, you know?” He looks down at his lap and massages his legs with his hands.
Something already happened to him. Something that is causing the dizziness and migraines. But what? Do I even want to know? And what if it’s... permanent? I take a moment to collect myself before speaking. “Makes sense.”
