Farm Tag

Chapter 9. « Sleepover. »

"Angel? Come here, sweetie."

I rush over to Gertrude and she shows me the empty refrigerator.

"We have to fill the shelves with stock and change the labels to match the products. You can't go wrong, some brands make the same product but without sugar and with... In short, it's torture!"

"I'll manage, don't worry."

I rip the cardboard off the packaging and fill the yoghurts on the shelf. Removing the label that goes with it, I crack my back before filling the top shelf and depositing the cart with the empty pallet in the parking lot.

"My grandson will be here soon, can you hold the till? I need to pick up my flower delivery."

"No problem, go ahead."

I take off my gloves and sit down on the cashier's stool. I check out several customers before a young man arrives, a white shirt under black suit pants.

"Hello. You must be Angel, right?"

"And you're the manager's grandson?"

"She didn't even bother to say my name."

"Actually, she did but I forgot."

He smiles at me and his eyes crinkle, making him look natural and sincere.

"That's okay, my name's Arthur. Can we talk?"

"Of course. You have an English accent, don't you?"

"That's right, I'm from the UK. I moved here to study and be with my grandmother."

"That's sweet of you."

I take off the jacket with the store logo and give it to him. 

"Good luck."

I walk out of the store and bump into a torso. I recoil as I recognize the colors of the Senegalese flag on the shirt.

"Oh sorry, I didn't do it on purpose, I swear!"

I smile sweetly at him.

"It's my fault, don't apologize."

"Have a nice day."

I go home and help Mom paint the fences with white paint.

"Wasn't Dad supposed to do that?"

"He went to take Reid to the physiotherapist."

"Outside the sessions?"

"I think he found his psychologist."

"I see."

"How was your work session?"

"Great. I met her grandson."

"Is he charming?"

"He's my age."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Yeah, he's cute."

"You're old enough to have a boyfriend, bunny."

"I doubt it, with the nickname you give me."

I dip the brush in the paint and continue painting the fence.

"You'll always be my little bunny, even when you're forty."

"I'm sure I will."

"Girls!"

We turn to my father's voice and see his figure walking from the entrance.

"Look at our savior!"

Reid appears without crutches, limping slightly. Mom smiles to see that he's getting up without a hitch. I put the brush back in the paint pot.