“She’ll be good.” Hazel sits Hopper on the table. “Don’t be a bad girl.” She points at Hopper, who looks up at her with innocent eyes. “See?” She smiles at me.
Hazel washes her hands and I look over at the rabbit, who is actually minding Hazel. I don’t know how she does it, but even the animals adore her.
“How was school?” I ask as we start to make dinner.
“It was boring,” she sing-songs. “Ms. Copper wasn’t there today, so we had an extra-long PE class and no art.” She huffs the last part. If it were up to Hazel, it would be art class all day and no PE ever. Not that I blame her. I was never a fan of PE either.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” I tell her as I put the water on the stove for the pasta. I turn around and lean up against the counter, watching as she gets the grilled cheese ready to cook.
“What would you think about me becoming the assistant manager at the grocery store?”
She pauses, and I watch her think for a moment. Most people automatically think that Hazel is dumb, but she’s not. She’s just a little slower when she has to process things. Big stuff is more difficult for her, but from what her doctors and teachers have told us, she has the learning ability of a twelve-year-old.
I don’t know the whole story because my mother refused to talk to me about it, but during the delivery of Hazel something went wrong and Hazel suffered a traumatic brain injury. The doctors originally thought she’d never be able to speak or walk, but she’s so strong and loves proving people wrong. She won’t ever be able to live alone or take care of herself completely, but she can have a beautiful, full life, and that’s all I ever want for her. I loved her like my own baby the day she came home from the hospital. I’m okay with her being with me for the rest of our lives because she deserves someone who will look out for what’s best for her, and because I love her.
She has small seizures throughout the day, but none that keep her from being able to function. As long as she stays on her medication she’s healthy. I just need to find a way to get her on my insurance and keep her on her meds. Her quality of life directly relates to mine because I want her to be the happiest she can be.
“Does that mean I wouldn’t be your bagger anymore?” she asks, and I watch as her thumb starts to tap her index finger, something she does when she gets annoyed.
“Probably, but you could bag for Kyle or some of the other girls. You might like bagging for them, too. If I was the assistant manager, you could tell me who you wanted to bag for and I could make it happen. It would be like you’re in charge of where the baggers are assigned. In fact, maybe you could help me pick each day who bags for each cashier.”
Her finger stops tapping and she perks up at that. Her eyebrows come together in concentration, then her eyes light up. “So I’d be the bagger manager?”
“Sounds fancy.” I smile at her. “But I haven’t gotten the job yet. Mason—” Hazel gags, making me fight a smile. “Mason said he wants to talk to me about it, but I wanted to talk to you first.” I walk over to her. “Because we’re a team and we decide things together.”
She lifts her hand and holds her pinky out. I lock it with my pinky and we both kiss our hands, which we always do when we’re on the same page.
Chapter 4
Shawn
I prop my feet up on my coffee table with my computer in my lap. I take a sip of my beer as I scan over the budget for next quarter that Belinda sent me. Running numbers is my least favorite thing about my job, but it’s a necessary evil.
My cell phone is on the couch beside me and I hear the ring I have for my mom. The company has an answering service that will send calls where they need to go. If someone needs to speak with me, it has a different sound. It makes it easy when my mom calls because she doesn’t like to wait.
I pick it up and bring it to my ear without taking my eyes off the computer screen. “Hey Ma, how’s the Bahamas?”
There’s a long pause, and then I hear a small squeaking sound. Suddenly the line goes dead. I pull the phone away from my ear and see the unfamiliar number. Then it hits me that the ring isn’t specific to my mom but to a personal call. It just so happens that the only person who calls me is my mom. But I’m excited when I see that Bailey called.