A Hole in the Universe - Mary McGarry Morris [8]
“So what should I do?” Eddie asked.
“Whatever the hell you want to do, Eddie,” Neil Dubbin groaned.
The HELP WANTED sign stayed in the window even though his first day on the job had begun. There were two registers open. At the first was June, a tiny gray-haired woman with a hacking cough. She was the fastest cashier but couldn’t bag groceries because of her emphysema. In the lulls between customers, she reached down and switched on her oxygen tank, then slipped the clear tubing over her head and adjusted the prongs in each nostril.
Serena was at the next register. She was a tall, coarse-skinned woman with large teeth and tendrils of ivy tattooed up each finger of her right hand. A small silver hoop pierced her left nostril. She and June seemed in a constant state of annoyance with customers. So far they’d had little to say to their huge, clumsy bag boy who kept filling the bags until they were too heavy. The bottom of the last customer’s bag had ripped open, spilling cans all over the sidewalk out front.
“Hey, Gordon,” Serena called as he double-bagged milk, juice, and cigarettes for a fat, bearded man in a dungaree jacket. “We’re running low on plastic.”
“Bags. Out back,” June wheezed, then pushed a REGISTER CLOSED sign onto the belt.
Gordon hurried through the meat-cutting room.
“Whatever it is, tell ’em we’re out,” Leo, the butcher, called as he continued shrink-wrapping packages of ground beef.
Gordon stood in the middle of the poorly lit, chaotic storage area. He had already been back here on two previous futile missions for items customers couldn’t find on the shelves. Stacks of torn, half-filled cartons were everywhere. Some had fallen, littering the floor with cans and boxes. There were no plastic bags. He was about to knock on Neil’s door when he spotted them in a box by the walk-in cooler. He was filling a smaller box with bags when the wide double doors to the loading ramp swung open. Eddie Chapman pushed through a dolly piled with cases of milk.
“Just the man I need,” Eddie said, and ordered Gordon to bring the cases up front and refill the dairy case. “There’s six more cases on the ramp, but I gotta go see a guy, so if you could just put them in the walk-in, I’d really appreciate it.” He zipped his jacket as he backed toward the door. “And for God’s sake don’t let anybody bother Neilie. He’s gotta get through this. But mingya, I got a life to lead, too. I got my own thing. I can’t keep doing this,” he said through the closing door.
Gordon started to push the loaded dolly into the store, then realized he probably shouldn’t leave six cases of milk out on the ramp to spoil or be stolen. He brought in the cases but couldn’t see another dolly, so he carried them two at a time into the cooler. He was wheeling the dolly out to the dairy case when he remembered June and Serena. Hands flying, he got the milk onto the shelves in just a few minutes, then raced up front with the bags.
Five customers were lined up at Serena’s register. June was gone.
“Is she all right?” he asked, and Serena rolled her eyes as she counted change back for a teenage girl with black lipstick and bright-red eye shadow. The girl pushed her cart through. In the baby carrier was a sleeping infant. Its tiny mouth opened and closed. He leaned closer. He’d only ever seen babies from a distance in the visiting room.
“Cute, huh?” Serena said.
“Like a little fish,” he said, gazing down.
“And what