Page 29 of Hidden Truths

“Da!” Cora says again with a small giggle.

“Me too, pretty girl.”

After filling our cart, plus a special bonus cart that’s waiting for us at the register, with everything in the girl’s section, plus a few items from the boys’ section, I’m ready to test out this credit card.

“You know, girls are allowed to like dinosaurs and footballs too,” I say to the disinterested girl ringing up all the items as I place two pairs of ‘boys’ PJs on the counter. “They also like trucks and sharks and robots.”

Cora claps in agreement. So I take that as encouragement and keep going. “And boys are allowed to like flowers and kittens and the color pink.”

The girl finally makes eye contact. “Okay?”

“I’m just saying. It shouldn’t be restricted by gender,” I mumble.

“Didn’t seem to stop you,” she says, going back to scanning and bagging everything.

“Right. Well, I suppose it didn’t,” I admit.

It’s awkward standing here for as long as I have been while she bags everything up. So long that I think about going on another rant about baby clothes.

“Your total is $6,342.”

I snort and tap the card against the reader. “Your dad is going to be so pissed,” I whisper to Cora.

“Da!”

“You’re right, Cora girl. He can’t be angry when he sees how cute you look in all of this.”

The cashier seems surprised when it’s approved. I catch my reflection in the mirrors behind the desk. Ah. That’s probably why. I’m in leggings and an old, faded college sweatshirt that hasa stain on it from Cora’s breakfast. My hair is tied in a haphazard bun on the top of my head.

I’ve looked . . . better.

“Can I see your I.D.?”

I chuckle to myself but dig it out of my wallet and hand it over anyway. The card is in my name, and I’m thankful Cal thought of doing that instead of just handing me one with his name on it. The cashier studies it a lot longer than what’s probably standard.

“I look like a hot pile of garbage today. I get it. You don’t need to be so rude about it.” Cora claps, and I shake my head. “That wasn’t really a clapping occasion, Cora.”

The cashier hands me my license, along with the receipt. I look at all the bags and flinch. “I don’t suppose you’d be able to help me get these to the car?”

“Can’t. Only one working.” She picks up her phone and goes back to ignoring me.

“Alright. Just me and you, Cora girl.”

“Cart stays in the store.”

“Can’t I use it to bring my bags out? I promise I’ll bring it back.”

She just points to a sign next to the exit. “The wheels lock if I push the cart past the threshold? Are you serious?”

I strap Cora to my chest, grateful that’s how I decided to carry her in here in the first place and load my arms up with bags.

It works well enough. I’m sweaty, and I think some of the handles from the bags have cut into my arms, but I’ve made it back to my car.

I’m breathing heavily by the time I get Cora strapped in. Of course, now my phone is ringing. I pull it out of my purse to see Cal’s face on the screen. It’s a picture I took of him with Cora. They were playing with sticks and leaves in the backyard. They looked so happy that I snapped a picture and immediately set it as his contact picture.

Guess it’s time to face the music.

“Beautiful daughter you have there.”

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