Page 5 of Look for Me

“Let’s carry her to the back office. We have customers here.” Sandra’s voice was a mix of concern and…regret?

“Is she pregnant?” Erika’s voice.

“Should we call 911?” Hardin, oh Hardin.

“No, no. I’m fine.”Most definitely, do not call 911.

That would cost money. Without insurance, Corinne could not afford it.

“I don’t want to be a burden to anyone,” she found herself saying.

She couldn’t get up.

Her eyes finally opened. Someone was staring down directly at her.

“Are you all right?” Sandra asked.

“Please don’t fire me. I need this job. I’ll…I’ll get back to work.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Sandra said. “I’m giving you the rest of the day off.”

“Maybe it was too hot outside. I just need some cold water.” Corinne struggled to sit up. She held her head.

What happened?

“Hardin can drive you home,” Sandra said. “You should see the doctor ASAP. I don’t want you passing out again.”

Corinne nodded even though she knew she wasn’t going to follow through.

Doctors cost money. She had to save every dime to feed herself and her daughter.

I won’t let Dahlia down like everybody else has let me down.

“Where’s Hardin?” Sandra asked.

“I’ll take her home,” a deep voice said.

Martin MacFarland.

I’m dreaming.

Corinne dared not look in the direction of the voice. She pulled her shirt across her belly to cover up her baby bump.

“Who are you?” Sandra said to the voice from Corinne’s past.

“I’m an old friend. She knows me. I’ll take her home.”

Still sitting on the floor, Corinne didn’t want to look at him. At the back of her mind, she should have expected that somehow she would have to face reality one way or another at some point in her life.

Though not this soon, God. Not this soon.

Corinne breathed in and out. Steeled herself as best she could, and rose to her feet—with the help of many hands. They moved her away from the main aisle behind the counter toward the back of the store. Sandra gave her a cup of cold water. Then she went back to work, leaving Corinne sitting on a chair by the wall.

She lifted her chin, and there he was.

I wasn’t dreaming. It’s really him.

Martin MacFarland looked older. His haircut was shorter now. Neater and tidier. He wore a Hawaiian shirt with faded geometric patterns. Scruffy deck shoes. Canvas, probably. His favorite.

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