Page 12 of Pen Me

I decided I’d find a regular store for paper goods and those things.

“Four thousand seven hundred and twenty-two dollars,” the salesgirl announced.

“Perfect.” I offered my card, and she moved to accept it.

Shit! Delivery.

“Oh…I, uhm, I forgot I need it all delivered.” I subtly drew back the card.

“Delivery.” She sounded stunned, despite my many items. “Yeah. For sure. We offer delivery for a fee. It wouldn’t be today, though, those are usually booked ahead.”

“Right.” I nodded, trying not to sound disappointed or surprised. Of course, normal people didn’t just go buy a houseful of furniture on a whim. “Would, uhm…tomorrow be okay?”

She sucked in air, making a regretful sound. “Delivery guy is off tomorrow. We could put you down for first thing Monday morning, though?”

I glanced down at the screen of my phone.

Thursday, April eighteenth, stared back at me.

The thought of sleeping on that cold, hardwood floor for the entire weekend sent goosebumps racing down my arms.

“Our customers are always number one. We value your business and aim to make your shopping experience as smooth as possible. To help us do this we ask that you please select your final choices and head to the front checkout at this time,” a voice chimed over the speaker.

I inwardly groaned.

“Could we suspend the order for just… two minutes, I could hop back in line and see about a truck?”

She frowned but eventually relented with a nod.

I shot to the back of the line and quickly called my brother.

“Hey!” he blurted out. “Are you alright?”

“Uh…yeah.” I exhaled awkwardly, “Do you think you could pick me up at the furniture store with a truck? I had to get some things, and I bought them and now I can’t get them home.”

I hadn’t technically bought them, but I played dumb for sympathy.

“You did what?” He laughed.

I groaned and stepped forward with the line.

“I should make you call Dad,” he threatened, humor laced in every word.

“Don’t be an ass. I’ll buy you a pizza if you keep quiet and help me put it all together?”

“Pizza and an ice-cold soda.” He negotiated.

“You got it,” I blurted out as the lady in front of me started to pay for her purchases.

“See you in five,” he sang, and hung up in my ear.

I was waiting on the curb with all my many boxes when Sauce pulled up.

“You didn’t bring any help?”

He laughed.

“Look, I know I’m not the biggest bastard in town, but I ain’t no weakling,” he murmured, hefting one of the boxes up with ease.

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