The Hurt And The Healing: Bucky X OC

Chapter Six: A Bag Of Flour Has Many Uses

Mara stared at the rows of food before her, eyes scanning over the yellow tags. 6.2¢ per ounce. 4.8¢ per ounce. 7.3¢ per ounce. She ran the numbers in her head. She grabbed the off brand box and chucked it into her shopping cart. Nonna could make anything taste good with enough seasoning and alcohol. She would work her magic with this too.

Mara pushed her cart through the aisles, thinking through her remaining tasks for the day. When she had woken up she counted eight tasks to be done in seventeen hours: get up, get ready, go to work, work, go to the store, come home, eat, go to bed. She was only halfway through and still had three hours left before she could complete her last task. But tomorrow she would have a day off and could sleep in until eight. She sighed and squared her shoulders. Three hours until she could sleep for ten. She could do this.

After finding everything else on the list that Nonna had given her, Mara swung through the medicinal section of the store. She gazed longingly at the shoe inserts in their fancy display with the pad where she could stand and see what was structurally wrong with her feet. Her mother had always complained about low arches, maybe that was her problem too. She almost stepped onto the mat, but the price tag for those little pieces of foam glared at her and she turned away. Her birthday was in two months. Maybe she could get some then.

Mara skipped the cashier lane, opting for self check out. She had to be careful when packing up the groceries, and she couldn't expect some teen working minimum wage to put up with her system. As she scanned each item and its corresponding coupon, she methodically placed her groceries in the bags that she brought from home. The cans of vegetables and bag of flour went into her backpack, to be topped with the spices in their hard containers. The eggs went at the bottom of the next back, with the fresh fruit and bag of coffee on top. Finally, she placed Nonna's medication in her purse, along with the bottle of vodka. Sixty-four dollars and nineteen cents. Eighty one cents under budget. Damn, she was good.

She kept her head on a swivel while standing at the bus stop. Two teenagers looking at something on a phone, an older gentleman with a cane and his shirt tucked into his pants, a pregnant woman and a child, and a man standing off to the side with his hands in his hoodie pocket. She kept her eye on him, careful to not let him see her looking, while sizing him up. If need be she could always take off her backpack and swing it. The cans and flour bag were heavy enough to stun him, if not knock him out.

The bus pulled up in front of the stand and shuddered to a stop. Mara was the closest to the door and got on first, spotting an empty seat behind the driver. She went to sit down only to realize that it was one of two empty seats left and the older man was already heading for the one further back on the bus. Refusing to let herself groan, Mara turned to the pregnant woman and smiled.

"Here," she said, gesturing to the open seat. "You should stay off your feet." The woman smiled gratefully and nodded, sinking down into the seat with a sigh of relief. Mara shifted her bag on her shoulders and walked closer to the center of the bus. She grabbed one of the handles and squared her feet, bracing for the bus to lurch forward. The man in the hoodie was maybe four feet behind her. He was also standing.

As the bus slowly made its way closer to home, Mara could not relax. She tried to, she even put in one of her earbuds to listen to music, but it was pointless. She kept glancing behind her, looking at the man in the hoodie after each stop he did not disembark at. Eventually a seat opened up and she quickly sat down, tucking her bags behind her legs and keeping her purse and backpack on her lap.

It was late and the bus was heading further away from downtown. The number of people getting on at each stop soon became smaller than the number of people getting off. By the time they reached Mara's stop it was just her, a young woman with a briefcase, and the man in the hoodie. Mara made eye contact with the other woman.