Page 13 of Pen Me

My eyes widened and I moved to help him, but he was already slinging it into the truck bed by the time I caught up. He turned and stumbled into me, his arms coming out to grasp my shoulders.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He laughed, stepping around me.

I sighed and decided to leave him to it, picking up a smaller box and setting it up there between his trips.

“That's all of it?” he asked, once the sidewalk was bare.

I gave a slow nod, and we climbed into the cab of the truck.

“You fuckin’ walked up here?” Sauce exclaimed.

“Uh… No, I sprinted actually.” I laughed when he looked at me like I was crazy.

“Shit. Do you need anything else? Grocery? You good for the night after this?”

“No, I’m good. Actually, I-I need paper stuff, laundry soap, just… random shit. Don’t worry about it though,I can probably get it tomorrow,” I dismissively decided.

He flubbed his lips and turned into traffic without asking which direction home was.

“It’s nothing. There’s a place around the corner.”

He pulled into a large parking lot, and I stared at the sign in front of the store.

On site pharmacy, it read across the top. According to the sign, they offered seasonal vaccines. Flu, Pneumonia, and more.

“You ever wonder why we missed half that shit.” I motioned toward the sign. “I mean, you don’t even have to go to a damn office anymore. You can get shots in a store, or a damn health department.”

Sauce squinted at me and slowly shook his head, clearly having never given the matter a single thought.

“We got shots growing up.”

“Not all of them.”

He shrugged, “I wasn’t complaining. Don’t remember you complaining over not getting them, either.”

“I’m complaining now,” I snapped, causing him to tuck his head back toward the driver’s side window.

His lips parted, only to close again. It was fucking weird. I was being weird.

Jesus.

What was wrong with me? Did I want everyone to know about my business?

“Shit. Sorry. Look, I’ll be back,” I promised, and let myself out before he could say another word.

I could feel his eyes on me all the way to the front of the store.

He was right. I’d never given a damn about the missed vaccines. Not until I had to catch up on a ton of them when I joined the service. Even then, it wasn’t more than a passing irritation, not something I’d dwelled on.

I had no grudge against my mother.

It was the sudden realization that I could have been vaccinated against the disease that stole my career and chance away from all of this that left me edgy.

My mother was a grieving woman. She’d lost a child, blamed herself for it a little and was drowning in depression while trying to raise those of us who were still with her. My emotions swung while I shopped as quickly as I could.

Sauce saw me at the door and swung the truck around to the curb, saving me a few steps.

“Let me,” he quietly mumbled, taking most of the bags in his fist.

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