Page 53 of The Weight Of Falling
KENZIE:Or maybe he’s just someone who prefers staying behind the camera. Not in front of it.
KATE:Kenzie has a point. Joel values his privacy.
TESS:For the record, if he ever hurts you, I will bury his camera under six feet of dirt.
SOFIA:You’ll need to make the hole wide enough for his body.
KENZIE:You two are actually unhinged.
TESS:Only because we care about you.
SOFIA:Deeply enough to commit a crime.
21
I’m humming as I stroll through the produce section of the grocery store. My parents are coming for dinner tomorrow night, and I’ve decided to make paneer curry. It’s warm and comforting, and my dad’s favorite.
I probably should have written a shopping list, but there’s something oddly soothing about wandering the aisles, letting my mind wander with me as I track down ingredients one by one.
Somehow, thinking about food always makes me think of my friends.
Kate, of course, has the store layout memorized and organizes her list by aisle. Tess makes a list too but usually forgets it at home and ends up winging it. And Sofia approaches grocery shopping like a choose-your-own-adventure, deciding dinner based on what catches her eye.
We’re so different, but I love that about us.
I drop a bunch of fresh cilantro and a bag of salad mix into my cart, then make a mental note to double back for chickpeas. That’s when I hear high-pitched shouting coming from the next aisle over.
I round the corner and spot Alix Constable frowning at a young mom and her son standing in front of the freezer section. I’ve seen the mom around town, but we’ve never spoken. Her son, who appears to be around nine or ten, is pointing excitedly at something inside one of the freezer doors, making loud, enthusiastic noises.
Alix’s lips are pursed and her eyes narrowed in disapproval. My stomach dips. Why is it easier for people to judge rather than help?
I walk toward them, pushing my cart ahead of me. The mom is juggling a handbasket while trying to gently coax her son forward. He’s agitated now, tugging on her arm as he fixates on whatever he saw behind the glass.
She speaks to him in a low, steady voice, trying to redirect him, but it’s not working. As I get closer, I see her face. It’s the picture of love and exhaustion, and my heart goes out to her. I don’t know her story, or her son’s specific needs, but I do know what it’s like to have one of those days.
From the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Rodney, the assistant manager, stepping out of the back stockroom. He frowns as he takes in the scene, clearly gearing up to intervene.
I step quickly toward the mom. “Hi,” I say brightly. “I’m Kenzie.”
She looks up, startled. Her son presses closer to her side, still buzzing with energy.
“Reagan,” she says, her voice cautious but polite. “This is Jacob.”
“Hi, Jacob,” I say, crouching slightly so I’m nearer to his eye level without crowding him. I keep my voice soft. “That freezer’s pretty cool, huh? What did you see in there?”
He doesn’t answer, but his eyes flick to mine, then back to the freezer. He’s still bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“I see something green,” I say casually. “Peas, maybe? Or dinosaur nuggets?”
He doesn’t speak, but his movements slow a little.
Rodney, watching from a distance, seems to reconsider and disappears back into the stockroom.
“Jacob’s very visual,” Reagan explains in a quiet voice. “He likes packaging and pictures. Lots of color.”
I straighten. “Sometimes just looking at stuff is half the fun.” I glance at her basket. “Can I give you a hand? My cart’s basically empty.”
“I don’t want to be a bother,” she says automatically, like she’s had to say it too many times before.
