Chapter 6. Lucy Wal-Mart September 12th

Lucy’s feet hurt, it hadn’t been a good day. First Anthony had a really bad day. His dementia was worse, he kept trying to leave and go to work. The more she tried to correct him the more argumentative he became. Then to make matters worse he shit himself.

After that it was a trip to the vet for their cat, Mistletoe. . Top all that off with a trip to Wal-Mart and Lucy just wanted to go home and put her head in the sink. She had one final item on her list, canned pineapple.

A young man pushing an oversized shopping cart was standing nearby on his phone. “Excuse me sir, do you know where the pineapple is?” she asked.

“The boy dropped his phone in his pocket and sighed then clicked his airpod. “What?” he asked with obvious annoyance.

“Sorry, I’m just looking for pineapple,” Lucy said again.

The young man rolled his eyes and jutted his finger out, “Fruits and vegetables are that way,” he said. He clicked his airpod and started to leave.

“No I’m not wanting a fresh pineapple, I want canned pineapple,” Lucy explained.

The young man clicked his earbudy again and spun around, under his Wal-Mart vest was a black T-shirt depicting a mouth full of razor teeth and wicked eyes, emblazoned with the word “Disturbed.”

“Look at the signs lady, next aisle, Fruits and Vegetables, can’t you read?” he said and shot off.

Lucy felt rising humiliation, “I can read,” she said but the boy was already gone. The damn burst and tears flowed.

Lucy stood there, cheeks burning, tears spilling before she could stop them. She pressed her fingers to her eyes, trying to get control, but the humiliation of being scolded like a child after the day she’d had was too much.

She turned into the next aisle, and there was the pineapple right in front of her. She snagged a can off the shelf. “Why am I the one crying?” she asked between tears.

She leaned against her cart, breathing hard, the bright fluorescent lights turning everything sharp and loud. Her eyes blurred again. She hated crying in public, hated that the stupid pineapple had been the thing that did her in.

A soft shuffle of footsteps approached, slow and hesitant.

“Um… excuse me?”

Lucy looked up. A young woman in a navy Wal-Mart vest stood a few feet away, hands clasped nervously in front of her. She was soft, friendly looking, with her hair pulled back and her eyes wide the way someone looks when they’re not sure if they’re allowed to speak.

“Are you Okay?” she asked.

Lucy blinked hard, embarrassed. “I’m fine,” she said quickly, wiping at her face.

The girl took one small step closer and held out a neatly folded Kleenex.
“You’re not,” she said softly. “But that’s okay.”

Lucy took it without thinking. “Thank you.”

The girl nodded, but didn’t smile. She looked like she wanted to, but couldn’t quite manage it.

Lucy inhaled shakily, pressing the tissue to her eyes. “It’s just been a really hard day.”

The girl nodded again, slowly. “I get that.”

Lucy looked at her more closely, taking in the vest, the posture, the quietness. Her gaze dropped to the nametag clipped to the girl’s chest.

GRACE.

Lucy’s breath caught. “Grace?” she said before she could stop herself.

Grace stiffened, hands twisting in front of her. “Um… yeah?”

“My husband, Whit, teaches the painting class at the college. He mentioned a Grace.”

Grace’s eyes widened with something like fear, like she was waiting for a blow that hadn’t landed yet. “He… did?”

“He did,” Lucy said, softening. “He said you were talented.”

Grace blinked rapidly, as though no one had said something kind to her in weeks.
“Oh,” she whispered. “Um… thank you. Your husband is a good teacher.”

Lucy managed a watery smile. “You didn’t have to help me. I appreciate it.”

Grace shrugged, looking down. “Most people don’t cry in the canned fruit aisle,” she said, trying for humor. It came out small. “I figured… someone should care.”

Lucy let out a shaky breath, “More people should care,”

Grace glanced toward the end of the aisle. “I should get back to filling my cart for the people too cool to come in here and shop. They’ve probably got an AI watching me.”

“Of course.”

Grace hesitated, just long enough to show she wanted to say more, then gave a tiny nod and walked away, pushing her cart of boxes, shoulders slightly hunched.

Lucy watched her disappear around the corner.

She wiped her eyes one more time and whispered to no one:

“Whit was right about her.”

And for the first time all day, the knot in her chest loosened.

***

The groceries were put away, Whit was home from work and they both sat down on the couch with slices of a frozen pizza. “I saw that new student of yours, Grace, today,” Lucy said.

Whit froze in mid bite, “Umm, yeah, where at?”

“She works at Wal-Mart, she was really nice, some asshole worker made me cry and she gave me a tissue.”

Whit sat his pizza down, “Wait, what, who made you cry, what happened?” he asked.

“I don’t know some worker there, it was nothing, he just said something rude. But Grace seems really nice,” Lucy said.

“I wish I’d been there. I'd give that kid a piece of my mind.”

“I was no big deal,” Lucy said and took another bite.

White felt a rising panic, yeah he was annoyed some kid made his wife cry, but even more worried what Grace might have told her. He tried to act cool, and slowly turned. His face was too blank, too careful. “What… exactly did she say?”

Lucy blinked. “Why do you ask it like that?”

Like what? Just curious.” He dried his hands on a towel though they weren’t wet.

Lucy studied him, a knot forming.

“She didn’t say much, Whit. Just that most people didn’t cry in the canned fruit aisle, oh she said you were a good teacher.”

Whit exhaled, maybe a little too hard. “Okay. Good. That’s… good.”

Lucy frowned. “Are you worried about her for some reason?”

“No,” Whit said quickly. “No, I just, it’s fine.”

Lucy watched him a moment longer. He wouldn’t look at her.

Something strange passed through her chest, suspicion. No, Whit wasn’t messing around with this girl, there’s no way.”

“She seems very sweet,” Lucy said softly.

Whit nodded without speaking.

Lucy got up and went to the fridge and leaned against the counter. “You really like her as a student, don’t you?”

Whit swallowed. “Yeah. She’s… very talented, and she’s also all alone as far as I can tell. Living in a dump out in the woods and she’s… I’m just worried about her.”

Lucy didn’t know what that meant. But she knew how it felt. Like there was more here than he was saying.

They finished eating in silence and then Lucy turned to her husband, “We have to talk about the other night. I’m sorry I made you so upset, I just don’t understand what’s going on. I thought you were done with that stuff?”

Whit’s chest tightened like a vice.
He knew exactly what she meant.
The clothes.
The dressing.
The thing he’d sworn years ago he’d buried.

He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again.

“I…” His voice cracked before it even started.

Lucy stepped closer, her expression uncertain,not angry, not judgmental. Just scared. “Whit, I’m your wife. You can tell me if something’s wrong.”

Wrong.
The word hit like a hammer.

Whit dragged a hand through his hair and stepped back, needing distance he couldn’t explain.

“There’s nothing wrong,” he lied. Too fast. Too sharp.

Lucy’s face pinched. “Whit…”

He turned away, gripping the back of a chair until his knuckles whitened.
He didn’t want to lie to her.
He didn’t want to hide from her.
He wanted, God, he wanted, to say it out loud.
The thing bubbling up in him ever since he’d sat in that truck with Grace.
The thing he was terrified even to think.

But saying it would break the world open.
Saying it would make it real.
Saying it would mean Lucy would look at him differently forever.

“I’m just tired,” he said finally, voice rough. “I’m… I’m overwhelmed. Work’s been busy, the class. You know it was just something I do alone to unwind.”

It was cowardly.
He knew it.
Lucy knew it too.

She swallowed. “I feel like you’re hiding from me.”

Whit closed his eyes.
Because he was.
Because the truth lived bottled up in his chest, clawing its way up his throat.

“I’m not hiding,” he whispered.
Another lie.

Lucy stepped forward and touched his arm lightly, like she wasn’t sure he’d let her. “I love you, Whit. I just need you with me. Not… somewhere else.”

He looked at her hand on his sleeve and placed his over it. No wedding rings. Both lost over twenty years of life and never bothered to replace.

He wanted to tell her. Wanted to trust her with it.

But he couldn’t.
Not yet.
Not tonight.

He gently pulled his arm back and managed a strained smile. “I’m here,” he said. “I promise.”

Lucy nodded, but her eyes said she didn’t believe him.