Jonas thought about the Act of Leaving the House. He was oddly proud of himself for leaving yesterday, even if it had been a disaster. He’d left, gone out, and that was what had mattered. It felt good, which was surprising. Jonas had mentally promised himself to try again sometime. He just hadn’t expected to be trying again so soon. But his mom needed groceries, Brennan worked at the grocery store, and he was tired of feeling like he was getting off because of the leg (even though Brennan didn’t know about it, so it couldn’t be the reason she was letting him off the hook for his role in the accident).
His mom parked the car, and they walked in together—or rather, Jonas crutched inside while his mom walked. He received a few glances, but not nearly as many as he would have if he had just left his pant leg empty and the prosthetic leg at home. His sweatpants covered the metal, and he almost felt normal. Almost.
By the time they reached the end of the second aisle, his mom crossing things off on her list as she got them (Jonas’s mom always wrote her lists by aisle number—milk, eggs, cheese: aisle one; canned beans, corn, tomatoes: aisle two; etc.—he thought it was rather smart, actually), he had begun to notice her casting glances sideways at him as they walked.
“What?” he asked, furrowing his brow.
“Are you tired at all?”
Jonas’s frown deepened slightly, but he sighed and said, “No, Mom. I’m fine.” He was always fine. What did fine even mean? Fine was such a lie.
But his mom nodded and resumed her list-crossing-off.
Truth be told, Jonas was getting a little tired. The last time he’d been on the crutches this much was when he’d been in school. Even then he’d had a wheelchair for when he just couldn’t take the crutches anymore (he’d used it as little as possible, but there had been days, especially at the beginning, when he was in so much pain that he’d given in). After the school year had ended, he’d gotten around mostly by hopping on one foot, propping himself on the wall, if he had to get somewhere in the house, and occasionally using the crutches when he was feeling particularly lazy or when his mom was watching. Using crutches for a prolonged amount of time was more uncomfortable than he had remembered—wrists aching, arms tired, wanting to sit down.
His mom seemed happy to have him here with her, though, and that was worth the discomfort.
Jonas wondered what department Brennan worked in. Was she a cashier? Did she stock shelves? Bakery? Then again, was she even at work today? You’re an idiot. She said it was fine. Why can’t you let it be fine? Nothing was fine, so this couldn’t be fine.
Farther down the aisle, his mom came across something on her list that she hadn’t ever bought before, and therefore didn’t know where in the store it was.
Chipotle peppers in adobo.
Jonas would have just looked for the peppers until he found them, heaven forbid he ask anyone before he’d exhausted every effort on his own. His mom, however, had no problem flagging down the closest sales associate.
Jonas stood a little way behind her, kind of wishing he was farther away, because she was gesturing at him suspiciously. What in the world was she telling this stranger?
He suddenly realized the stranger had a familiar messy bun (familiar wild tendrils escaping at the ears) and blue uniform shirt–black pants combo. Jonas’s eyes widened before he immediately returned his gaze to the floor, hoping she—hoping Brennan—wouldn’t recognize him right away. He needed to separate from his mom somehow if he wanted to keep the accident a secret. He stared at the little hole in Brennan’s left sneaker.
Meanwhile, his mom was chatting Brennan’s ear off, telling her about the recipe she was making, as if that was required background information in the search for the canned chipotle peppers. Jonas would have just said, “Excuse me, do you have canned chipotle peppers in adobo?” That was, if he had asked at all. His mom was turning it into Elise Nguyen-Avery and the Quest for Chipotles in Adobo.
Finally, Brennan found enough of a pause in the conversation so that she could insert her reply without accidentally interrupting Jonas’s mom. Jonas had been watching her and the way she kept going to say something and ending up just smiling and nodding at something Jonas’s mom had said. When he looked at her more closely, he could see what appeared to be panic growing in her eyes. She looked trapped. Go ahead, interrupt her, Jonas mentally urged her. It’s okay. Do it now. One, two, three, now! “I know we have them,” Brennan finally said. “I’m just not sure where they are.” Jonas wondered if she hadn’t been working there long. “I can find someone who knows for you, though, if you come with me.” Brennan was continuing, and his mom was smiling.
Of course Jonas’s mom followed her. Brennan kept turning around and making comments to his mom, as if trying to fill the silence on the walk to wherever they were going. She laughed awkwardly after most of the comments. Jonas wanted to say It’s okay. You don’t have to talk. It’s all right, because it seemed like she wanted to be anywhere but there, leading them around the store. She walked too quickly, and no matter how hard he tried, he realized (with frustration building within him) that he couldn’t keep up.
His mother glanced back at him. He gestured for her to keep going, but slowed down, following them at a distance.
Eventually, they must have found someone who was able to tell his mother where the chipotles were because Brennan departed (as quickly as possible, Jonas noticed, and frustratingly before he could say anything to her about paying for the dent in her car).
Calm down, he thought, relaxing a bit. He wasn’t sure if he was relaxing on her behalf or letting go of the unspoken worry he’d had that she’d somehow reveal their fender bender to his mother.
They visited every other aisle of the store. Jonas wondered why they hadn’t just looked in every aisle for the chipotles as they shopped instead of asking someone (instead of asking her). Of all the people. He felt a little bit bad that he still hadn’t told his mom about the accident, but he still thought it was for the better. He wouldn’t be able to stand it if she felt any more guilt because of him. A small part of him whispered Or do you just not want to feel any more guilt over all the things she now worries about because of you?
After the aisle shopping came the specialty shopping, which meant that Jonas’s mom went to buy fresh ground beef (How much fresher can it be than what they have in the packages? It’s not like they butcher a cow in the back of the store, thought Jonas, who would rather have spared himself from the conversation that ensued when the guy behind the counter asked what had happened Sports injury? Sports injury.) and salmon fillets.
The next stop was the deli. His mom ordered a pound each of sliced ham and turkey, and a pound of provolone cheese (Jonas’s favorite because it didn’t really have a strong cheesy taste) and then left Jonas to wait for the cold cuts while she went off to order a cake for Taylor’s birthday (A week away, but better to get the order in early, she’d said). He’d been trying to find a way to separate from her and go find Brennan, but it seemed like maybe she’d given him a chance all on her own. He could get the order and then wander the store a bit and find Brennan again.
Jonas zoned out, watching the deli worker slicing the meat for the person who had been in line in front of him—back and forth, back and forth. He was rather amazed that the worker hadn’t managed to slice off his own fingers. Jonas wondered what it would be like to be fingerless and legless. He also wondered if his mom was relieved to leave him behind for a bit and walk at a normal pace over to the bakery.